Krivven is a towering figure whose once-lustrous brass scales have dulled to the color of weathered pennies, mottled with patches of verdigris green around his joints. His left crest horns are broken off midway, leaving jagged edges that he meticulously polishes. While he carries himself with the stiff, measured gait of an old soldier, his movements have a surprising, liquid grace when he reaches for a book. His left eye is a milky, sightless orb, while the right is a piercing amber that seems to glow when he is agitated. In stark contrast to his scarred and warrior-like frame, he always smells faintly of dried lavender and old parchment.