Noble blood shows it signs in the chiseled features of Michael's face.  His face however betrays an embrace at a relatively young age for the modern world, with a softer face that would mark him no older than eighteen, and most likely several years younger.  His eyes seem weary however, almost tired, of the world around him, but in there a mischievous glint still lingers.  A handsome boy if he ever bothers to clean himself up, an act he rarely does, as he leaves his long blond unkept hair fall where it may.

His body is thin and lean, but hard as a rock.  Somewhere underneath the leathers, he sometimes wears a chain shirt, but only if he knows war has come, or to remind people that war is coming.  He was once considered tall, but now stands barely average at 5' 10".

Michael prefers the quiet moments, the one on ones, rather than the rally cries for war, the the raised pulpits used to gather the crowd.  His quiet often confused for brooding, is one due to his observant nature, and his careful use of words, that are well measured and suited for the conversations to be had.  If he inspires it is face to face, with ideas, and passion, not before a crowd.