Rhys wears the familiar human shape he remembers from childhood, with pale skin, short straight brown hair that catches copper in sunlight, and gem-green eyes. He keeps his hair carefully trimmed, almost fastidiously so, against the otherwise weather-worn look of a wanderer. A small brass locket hangs at his throat, its rim rubbed smooth where his thumb worries it. His clothes are practical and mended, and he carries a bow and an old short sword with the wary ease of someone relearning how to belong among people.

Quietly courteous and observant, Rhys is more comfortable listening to the night woods than joining a crowded table. He tries to be gentle, but old predatory confidence sometimes surfaces when he thinks someone is trying to control him.

Rhys Griwyth was the eldest of four brothers, born outside a marriage and raised with more care than his parentage ever promised. Their family was broken apart by tragedy while they were still young. His brothers were eventually taken in by other households, while Rhys slipped away, convinced that he could make his own way. His mother had taught him the first careful habits of magic, and old stories of druids and Myrddin drew him into the lonely wilds of Britain, where he pursued powers he barely understood. The years that followed are disjointed in his memory: wandering, raiding, strange rites, and a slow descent into the shape and appetites of a great red wyrm. He remembers conquest and treasure, but not always the choices that led him there. When the rise of the Anglin nation and the ruin around it finally made his old life feel empty, he turned away from hoarding and seduction, and took up the human form he believes was once his own. Now he travels as an Outlander, learning the bow and short sword, seeking a purpose that will not turn him back into a monster. He carries his mother’s locket, hoping one day to find his brothers and meet them as Rhys, not as a dragon from their worst stories.