Neri has a rounded, doll-like face with delicate features that often prompt strangers to mistake him for a woman; he corrects them with theatrical indignation, then forgets the exchange. His large, round green eyes are framed by lush, thick lashes, and his messy black hair brushes his shoulders, its tips dyed a deep navy blue. A pointed fringe rests at the top of his nose bridge. His slightly tanned skin is usually dusted with grass seeds and road grit. Beneath his bare chest, his torso is lean and corded, with a narrow waist and wiry muscle built for sudden turns rather than imposing strength. He moves in bursts: a loose, swaggering sprawl one moment, then a quick, balanced pivot the next. He takes up more social space than his frame suggests, leaning into conversations and gesturing with both arms. Unexpectedly, he is an avid and exacting mender of broken pottery, carefully sealing each crack with colored resin.

Neri is exuberant, boastful, and startlingly generous, yet he is not especially bright and knows it only in flashes. In a crowd or a fight, he fills every pause with a declaration; alone with an injured person, he becomes careful and patient. He wants to be thought fearless but privately hates being responsible for anyone's safety. He can be tactless about appearances and titles, but is tender toward damaged things and people who have been left behind.

Neri was raised in a dwarven quarry settlement where his mother, Nalla, shaped stone markers and his father, Oskari, repaired tools. He was never good at measuring twice, but he could feel when a stone was about to split and hear when a blade had been ground unevenly. At twenty-nine, he joined a caravan guard crew traveling through the high grasslands. During a night raid, he charged after the raiders alone, convinced he could frighten them off. The caravan's pack animals bolted in the confusion, and a young guard named Ione was badly injured while stopping a wagon from rolling into a ravine. Neri stayed with her until dawn, holding pressure on the wound and listening as she made him promise never to confuse noise with courage again. He kept the promise imperfectly. Later, he trained under a wandering sword teacher, who taught him to make two blades work like one continuous argument. The swords were gifts from that teacher, both damaged in the same disastrous practice bout. Neri has carried them ever since, refusing to replace them. He now travels between settlements, taking escort work and intervening in roadside disputes. He sends most of his pay home to his parents, visits Ione when their routes cross, and is currently trying to discover who has been sabotaging the grassland wells. He suspects a local water-rights broker, but his evidence consists mostly of suspiciously clean boots.