Shurbert stands tall with vibrant crimson scales that have grown dull and dusty from years of living in the wild. His golden eyes are sharp and constantly scanning the horizon. He wears rugged scale mail reinforced with dark leather, and he often carries a longbow draped over one shoulder and two shortswords at his hips. His movements are deliberate and predatory.

He is a quiet and observant individual who values the silence of the woods over the noise of the tavern. He speaks bluntly, often comparing the complexities of civilization to the simple laws of the forest. He is deeply protective of the natural world and distrusts those who take more than they need from the earth.

Shurbert was once part of a militaristic dragonborn clan that focused on conquering the surrounding territories. He found no joy in the rigid structure of his kin and eventually chose exile over obedience when the chieftain ordered the clearing of an ancient grove for a new outpost. Shurbert realized then that his loyalties lay with the land itself, rather than a bloodline or a crown. For years he has wandered the untamed reaches of the continent, serving as an unofficial guardian of the green. He has learned to read the clouds like a book and hears warnings in the shift of the wind. He often lingers on the edges of small villages, trading game and pelts for the few tools he cannot forge himself, but he never stays under a roof for more than a night. He is a hunter, a tracker, and a ghost of the timberlands, seeking to maintain the delicate balance between expanding civilizations and the wild world that preceded them.