Pzhar is a broad-shouldered bronze dragonborn with dark teal scales along his neck and forearms, swept-back horns, and a blunt, thoughtful expression. A sailor's patched coat hangs open over practical clothes, leaving his arms free. He takes up space without seeming to notice, then carefully shifts aside when someone smaller needs room. Before speaking, he draws a quiet breath through his nose and lets it out with a faint rasp.

Patient with difficult work and impatient with needless cruelty, Pzhar listens without interrupting. He has a dry, unexpected wit, but often delivers a joke so quietly that people only realize he made one after he has moved on.

Pzhar learned his first trade on the dredge boats of Kett, a riverside settlement named for the chain-dredging that once kept its harbor deep. The work demanded more patience than strength, which suited him better than people expected. He could stand knee-deep in silt for hours, listening for a snag in the chains by the change in their pull. When a storm tore the dredge loose and sent it toward the lower docks, Pzhar held the towline long enough for the crew to cut it free. The boat was lost, but the dockworkers were not.