Easily mistaken for a human child, this slight gnome betrays his age only with the silvered beard that brushes his knees. Braided together in convoluted patterns and threaded with the occasional wooden trinket or shell, the whiskers appear a point of pride as his tiny, stubby fingers constantly caress them. His eyes, pinpricks made miniature, scrutinize his surroundings beadily, and one could not discern their color unless he used his own fingers to pry them open. His cheeks are flushed and rosy, the face of a child's painted doll, the comparison more apt because of his diminutive size. His torso is soft with a pudgy tummy that protrudes past his belt buckle and strains against an unassuming travel tunic. His overall aura is one of ruins reclaimed by the entropy of nature with errant twigs jutting from his auburn hair and a handful of vines that trail behind him as he walks.