Ghost is a slender Dragonborn with shimmering silver scales that often appear translucent in low light. They wear tattered, dark grey robes layered with practical leather straps and hidden pockets. Their eyes are a piercing, icy blue, and a faint mist constantly curls from their nostrils. They carry no visible heavy weapons, preferring the two daggers tucked into their belt.

Detached and observant, Ghost speaks only when necessary and usually in whispers. They have a dry, cynical wit and a deep skepticism of anyone claiming to act for the greater good. They are uncomfortable in large crowds but possess an uncanny ability to notice the smallest details in their environment.

Born into the freezing slums of a coastal metropolis, Ghost earned their name long before they realized they had magic. They were a phantom in the counting houses and a shadow in the alleys, stealing just enough to keep their small circle of fellow orphans fed. Their silver scales, usually a mark of pride, were a liability they learned to hide under soot and rags. The awakening of their sorcery was a violent, cold affair. During a botched warehouse heist, Ghost was cornered by city guards. Instead of surrendering, they exhaled a blast of frost that coated the room in ice, allowing them to slip away into the night. Since that day, the thieves guild they once served has become wary of their presence. Ghost now travels the world, half-convinced that their magic is a curse of the blood, looking for a way to control the internal winter that threatens to freeze their very heart.