Before you stands a man of unimposing stature, just over five foot and well under a hundred pounds, near forty years of age with greying ginger hair, a sparse beard and soft wrinkles around his eyes. He sports a nonchalant smile, an air of perpetual contentment, his soft black eyes conveying an optimism that borders on naivety.

 This of course is only one of the shapes of Beril. For in his natural aspect, the Varisian dilettante is nowhere to be seen, supplanted by a dashing and flamboyant anthropomorphic fox, barely taller than his human counterpart but orders of magnitude smoother, more charming and confident, apparently ready to topple empires if the day calls for it.

 The most noticeable and perhaps striking feature in Beril's natural shape is the bright fluffly bouquet of tails flashing behind him where typically one would expect to see a single panache of orange fur. It is difficult to say how many there are, as he seldom just fans them in a perfect array, but suffice to say there are more than half a dozen tails. The few who have heard of the Kitsune folk will know that this feature is eponymous of great magical powers, the extent of which is unknown.

 In both shapes his clothing identifies him as one of the wandering folks. Under his unassuming black cloak he wears colourful pantaloons and flowing shirts, short leather vests and an array of scarves, cravats and ribbons -the most noticeable is a sikl ribbon around his forehead which typically puzzle and entrance those who stop for a chat. Gold earrings, bracelets, rings and necklaces adorn him, as if he had to carry on his person the grand total of his wealth at all times. A lot of these trinkets bear symbols of the various gods worshipped in this corner of the world, as well as tokens and badges from various societies and organisations. On his arm a brass buckler and at his belt a long knife complete his attire, but whether he can use them is a matter of debate.