This younger, perhaps mid-twenties aged man stands at about five foot ten inches tall, only slightly above the Human average really. He has slightly bronzed skin, suggesting time spent outside in the sun during much of his life, yet he lacks the tell-tale signs of a farmer, as he isn’t particularly heavy-set or muscular, lacking any sort of broadness on his frame. He seems to exude averageness from his form. Strangely enough he simply reeks of the ozone-like stench of magic, to those naturally magically inclined or extensively learned, it could be very easily believed that his entire form was a work of magic, as though it were an illusion for something, or someone else.

However, those people whom are extremely well-learned in the arcane school of Transmutation would quickly begin to understand that his body is a result of significantly powerful Transmutative wards and spells, not any mere simple spell of the Illusion school, though the spell that causes this bizarre change isn’t immediately recognizable. Along his belt are a number of vaguely-labelled brews, none of which are immediately recognizable at a glance to anyone whom has never interacted with him before. Strangely enough, the liquids inside the clear glass vials seem to shift in colour nonstop, changing hues before ones very eyes, this presumably happens to the texture and temperature of the strange potions as well, should it follow any theme of logic applicable.

His hair is a rather normal dusty brown, and reaches down to his shoulders, unless of course he has decided to alter his appearance as one with such powers is often wont to do. Every now and then, from day to day, something on his body will change, whether it is coarser body-hair, all the way to a growth or change in height or broadness. His nose might shrink or grow, his eyes might change colour, or be two different ones, and on some days, his form might change completely, giving him an entirely unrecognizable persona from his last. One thing that seems grounded and unchanging about him, however, should he ever take it out, is his staff. Crafted of a fine, beautifully carved white Ash wood and covered in runes to ward off both evil and good, it is topped with a curious, illogical alloy of Baatorian Greensteel and Celestial Silver, which are usually polar opposites. Its very presence gives its owner a rather paranoid-seeming feel, as though he expected trouble from mythical monsters of Evil and fabled heroes of Good. Which is curious as the man, should he indeed be just that, doesn’t particularly appear to do much of Good or Evil to warrant an attack from either.

At all times, unless he has undergone painstaking attempts to cover it, his very form emits the acrid, clean smell of ozone, often comparable to chlorine. His scent could best be described as what one can smell after a particularly heavy thunderstorm, and is quite a tell-tale sign of the quite powerful magical wards and spells that make up his appearance.

He possesses an incredibly charming smile, at least in his current form, with teeth that glitter and shine like pearlescent lights, but not overbearingly so. His smile is both warm and friendly, and seems to come easily to him, as though he were naturally laid-back, different to what one might expect from a wizard, should he indeed be just that.

// As always, the player is friendly and you should feel free to PM me if you’re curious about anything you should know about him, anything you think your character might be able to discern through his magical wards. As his magic isn’t an illusion, but rather a form-changing magic.