William Blackrose is a well-aged, unusually slender Human male of long limbs and fair skin, the latter of which might just burn on a warm day.  His hair is a dark, molted blend of gray and chestnut with a few wisps of silver scattered in between.

There's not much to be impressed with physically.  Sure, the man is extraordinarily tall, but his hips are narrow, his chest is far from inflated, and his arms and legs are hardly tree trunks.  He's a man well past his prime, well beyond his sixties, and surly not getting any younger.  If one were bold, they might go so far as to use the term 'grandfatherly.'

Still, for all his age, William moves with an undeniable confidence-there's a cunning edge to his calculating gaze, and an articulate inflection to his speech.  The smell of spell components linger on his clothes: burnt powder; gem dust; and exotic inks.

More observant individuals may or may not notice the strangeness of William's left arm, the padding beneath the sleeve, and the way he seems to unconsciously shield that side of his body.