Tharix moves like a tide: slow, patient, then suddenly relentless. His sapphire-blue scales catch light in thin, metallic bands; some scales around his jaw are dulled and pitted from a long-healed wound, giving his profile a slightly jagged, learned look. He favors a hooded leather jerkin cut to allow his wings-to-be (small vestigial folds) to flex; a faded hunter's sash wrapped diagonally bears stitched symbols of the borderfolk he once guided. When idle he often toys with a carved bone token on a thong around his neck; when threatened his nostrils flare and a faint glow blooms behind his eyes. Unexpectedly, his left foreclaw is gilded with a brass prosthetic, exquisitely filigreed, which chimes faintly when he walks and occasionally distracts those who expect uniform reptilian claws.