Veccus is a broad-shouldered Dragonborn with shimmering gold scales that look like polished brass under the sun. He has sharp orange crests and amber eyes that glow with an internal heat. He wears well-maintained leather and fur straps over his bare chest, keeping his old soldier's cloak draped over one shoulder. His snout bears a jagged scar from a spear tip.

He is a man of military precision and deep, brooding silences. While he is capable of sudden, explosive violence, he prefers to approach life with a sense of order and tactical planning. He speaks with a low, gravelly voice and rarely wastes words on pleasantries.

Veccus Ragnar was once a dedicated centurion in the Iron-Scale Legion, a military unit known for its unwavering wall of gold-scaled warriors. He spent a decade defending the southern borders, believing fully in the chain of command and the honor of the empire. That belief was shattered when a corrupt General intentionally sent his unit into an ambush to cover up a botched supply theft. Veccus watched his entire squad perish in a magical fire that he, despite his own draconic resistance, could barely survive. The grief ignited a primal fury within him that he had never known. He slaughtered the survivors of the ambush alone and vanished into the wilderness. He now lives as a wandering mercenary, trying to balance his soldier's discipline with the scorching rage that threatens to burn anyone who gets too close. He keeps the charred name-tags of his squad tied to his belt as a reminder of the price of blind loyalty.