Hunter is a lean red dragonborn with dark crimson scales, a blunt horned brow, amber eyes, and a narrow scar crossing his left cheek. He wears battered leather armor beneath a weathered hooded cloak, keeps his claws neatly filed, and moves with the careful, quiet economy of someone who expects trouble in every room.

Hunter is patient, observant, and dryly pragmatic. He prefers clean exits to heroic speeches, but he is not heartless, and he will protect people who are trapped the way he once was. He values competence over reputation and keeps his emotions tucked behind a careful, almost polite reserve.

Hunter was born in a backstreet tenement where a dragonborn family tried to survive by doing the work honest folk would not touch. His parents taught him that a life could be lawful without ever being respectable, and that a quiet step was worth more than a loud threat. He learned to slip through markets, lift keys from belts, and vanish into smoke-black doorways long before he ever thought of himself as a rogue. The first time he breathed fire in fear, he scorched a pursuer’s boots and earned both a beating and a reputation, the kind that follows a young criminal like a shadow. He drifted from petty theft to burglary, not out of greed but because every locked door looked like a question he wanted to answer. He became useful to a small ring of thieves as a scout, climber, and lock-breaker, though he never truly belonged to any gang. He favors jobs that keep him moving, keeps his word when he gives it, and quietly resents anyone who mistakes his calm for weakness. Now he travels because it is safer to be unknown than to stay where old debts, old allies, and old enemies all remember his name.