Soul is a green-scaled dragonborn with sharp, golden eyes. They wear black cargo pants tucked into dark green leather boots. A dark red, long-sleeve shirt is partially obscured by dark blue fingerless gloves. Most notably, they are almost always draped in a heavy, dark purple cloak that is large enough to conceal their entire form when they draw the hood and wrap it around their shoulders.

Taciturn and pragmatic, Soul possesses the discipline of a soldier but the unpredictable nature of a wild sorcerer. They value efficiency over ethics and have a hard time trusting anyone who offers help without an obvious motive. They speak in short, punchy sentences and prefer to let their magic or their blade do the talking when negotiations get complicated.

Soul was discovered as an infant in the debris of a sacked village by a human sergeant. Raised within the rigid lifestyle of a frontier garrison, they were trained as a scout and skirmisher, their green scales helping them blend into the local flora. Neither Soul nor their foster-father understood why they could occasionally breathe poison or why the air hummed when they were angry. As Soul's magic grew too potent to ignore, they were quietly discharged from service. Now an orphan twice over, they roam the world disguised in dark clothing, searching for the origins of their emerald lineage while using their tactical training to survive the harsh reality of the mercenary life. They know little of dragonborn culture, viewing their heritage more as a weapon than a history.