Parasect is a man who looks like he just survived a landslide and enjoyed every second of it. His hair is a wild thicket of dark curls filled with bits of moss and dried leaves. He wears scale mail that is perpetually scratched and dented, often mismatched with scholarly robes tucked into his belt. His eyes are bright with an almost manic intensity, and he carries a thick, weathered journal strapped to his thigh alongside his swords.

Reckless, fun, and incredibly brave. Parasect treats the natural world like a high stakes playground. He has zero sense of self preservation and finds the presence of a deadly predator more exciting than a warm bed. He is surprisingly well spoken due to his academic background, but his words usually involve describing the anatomy of the thing currently trying to eat him.

Parasect was raised within the silent, marble halls of a grand university where his parents were esteemed librarians. He spent his youth surrounded by maps of forgotten forests and bestiaries of lethal monsters. While other students were content with ink and parchment, Parasect found himself suffusing with a restless energy that no book could contain. He didn't want to read about the scream of a griffon, he wanted to hear it. At the age of twenty, he gathered his things and left the ivory tower for the untamed woods, renaming himself after a fungus that completely consumes its host. This was his way of acknowledging that he was fully consumed by his obsession with the wild. He now roams the most dangerous regions of the world, acting as a field researcher who intentionally puts his head in the lion's mouth just to count its teeth. He considers every scar a trophy and every near death experience a successful day at the office.