<div class="floatleft">(https://i.postimg.cc/GmVMTHJ3/eef6ec6b38c38ad3b97da9b5de81db90-2.png)</div>Besides his pretty grey dress, Pozhvim (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1753789) still wears much the same neutral, possibly dopey, smile that he had when he was full of glowgrub beer…but then it does seem to be his default expression. He looks oddly comfortable under the night sky, but then he's the sort of weirdo who has gone out hunting in the past...Supposedly even during daylight.<br/><br/>He listens patiently as Mogroom postures, glancing at the great tree visible in silver-flecked silhouette against the northwestern sky when she mentions the mites, but his fingers are at work making a flower-crown with some of the blossoms he’s pulled up along the way.<br/><br/>This is typical of Pozhvim, although generally his hands are full of fungus rather than flowers. He seems, perhaps, slightly more comfortable braiding the more robust plant stems together, dipping his head to bite off too-long stems with his toothy, draconic maw.<br/><br/>Pozhvim’s jaws are possibly the only intimidating thing about him…as kobolds go, being dragon-blessed is respectable, and many loudly claim their ancestral connections, but those fangs make it look like he shouldn’t even be able to close his mouth.<br/><br/>Despite which, the odd kobold often seems to have little to say.<br/><br/>This proves to be one of those times, and while he regards Nosk attentively, when it’s clear that the sorcerous kobold is done muttering, his orange-ish gaze turns with that same even silence towards Nug, as if awaiting her input.<br/><br/>Alone of the trio, he doesn’t seem armed…Unless one counts the short blade-like thing strapped to his tail.