The man has fair hair, long and windswept usually tied into a practical ponytail, and a trimmed beard that hugged only his chin.
There are a few trace lines upon his tanned face, from the winds of the world, but his eyes show a wily cunning.

He appears at first glance to be a bard well used to the street, for what he wears can not rightly be seen: he huddles in a dark cloak. But he had well-worn boots of leather, rippled with creases and dusted in mud; and upon his right shoulder there was an old oaken lute.

An arming sword is sheathed in a leather scabbard on his left hip, along with a pouch of coin which seemed more empty than full.

He's as common as muck, seemingly, speaking in tones that are yet dulcet to the ears. A blithe laugh is never far from his lips, nor is his lowborn sense of humour.