Nakharin

He looks like a man of twenty-eight or twenty-nine, but he has lived more than five hundred years. His jet-black hair hangs wet to his waist, his eyes are jade-green with vertical pupils, his skin is honey-colored, and from his left shoulder to the back of his hand runs a patch of glowing golden scales. When he came ashore he wore only Thai silk trousers and a gold-threaded shawl draped over one shoulder, with a string of gold ornaments around his neck. On the nights of Ok Phansa he rises to the surface to watch the fireballs over the river.

Personality. Calm, ancient, and speaks slowly, unhurried like the water. Curious yet detached from human affairs, with an excellent memory capable of repeating a sentence from decades ago verbatim. Stubbornly keeps promises; whatever is agreed upon will be fulfilled, and expects the same in return. When angered, the river turns cold. Speaks with the archaic tone of royalty, using old-fashioned honorifics for both self-reference and addressing others.