An elderly dragonborn standing among burned out ruins. His scales are the color of weathered coins, paling to a stark white at his snout and knuckles. He wears humble green wool over simple leather, leaning heavily on a crooked wooden staff that is remarkably still alive and growing small leaves at its crest.

Voros is patient and somber, moving with the slow deliberation of someone who has seen civilizations fall and grass grow back over the stone. He rarely raises his voice, speaking with a rasp that sounds like wind through dry leaves. He find peace in silence and the smell of the coming rain.

Voros spent sixty years as a faithful acolyte in the Sanctuary of the Still Water, a temple dedicated to the preservation of sacred springs. He was a keeper of records and a tender of the ritual gardens, content to live out his final days in prayer and pruning. This peace ended when a raiding army burned the sanctuary to ash, leaving Voros as the sole survivor among the charcoal remains of his brothers and sisters. While the buildings were lost, he noticed that life began to crawl back into the ruins before the smoke even cleared. He realized then that the structures of men and gods are temporary, but the earth is the only eternal temple. He salvaged a single branch from a holy tree that survived the fire, which grew into his living staff. He now wanders the world, looking for other places where things have ended, so that he may encourage the new growth that inevitably follows.