Draconius is a large Gold Dragonborn with scales that have lost their luster, now resembling tarnished brass. He wears tattered monk robes that have seen better days. He possesses a permanent scowl and heavy, hooded eyes that look like they have not seen a full night of sleep in a decade. His horns are slightly chipped, and he carries a thick, knotted wooden staff.

He is perpetually irritable and finds almost everything too loud. Draconius believes that words are usually a waste of breath. He is blunt to the point of being offensive, but he has zero tolerance for bullies or those who flee from a fight they started. He just wants to find a cave that does not have an echo.

Draconius was once a respected blacksmith within his clan, known for his steady hands and quiet focus. However, after decades of the constant ringing of hammers and the endless chatter of customers, he simply snapped. He walked away from his forge, renamed himself Smith as a mocking tribute to the life he left, and sought the silence of the high peaks. He spent seven years in a remote mountain monastery, learning to harness his inner fire through the way of the monk. Unfortunately, even the monks were too noisy for his liking. Their constant chanting and philosophical debates drove him back down the mountain. Now, he travels because every time he finds a quiet spot, a group of 'adventurers' shows up to start a tavern brawl or summon a demon. He joined the current party only because they seemed slightly less likely to scream every five minutes, though he is already regretting that decision. He views cowardice as the ultimate noise, a screeching discord in the natural order that must be silenced with a firm palm strike.