Zephyr is a medium sized Dragonborn with glossy, obsidian-black scales that shimmer with a faint oily green tint. His horns are swept back, one of them chipped at the tip. He wears dark, soot-stained leather armor and a hooded cloak made of various scavenged fabrics. He has bright, golden eyes that stand out sharply against his dark face, and he often carries a faint scent of rain and swamp water.

I hide scraps of food and trinkets in my pockets at all times because I never know when I will eat again. I sleep with one eye open and always position myself with my back to a wall. I am quiet and observant, preferring to let others do the talking while I size up the exits and the valuables in the room.

Zephyr was found as a hatchling in the deepest sluice gates of a coastal city, left to die in the waste. He was raised by a loose collective of orphans and pickpockets who called themselves the Dutter-Street Rats. Growing up as a Dragonborn among humans and halflings made him a target, so he learned to be faster and meaner than those twice his size. He earned his name, Rat-Biter, during a particularly harsh winter when he had to fight the local vermin for a single dry crust of bread, a fight he won with tooth and acid.