Eber stands a startling 5 feet 10 inches, taller than anyone expects from a family of stout halfling descent. His pale, fair skin is densely freckled, with olive-green scales climbing his neck, shoulders, ribs, and the backs of his hands. The scales are small, flexible, and faintly pebbled, catching the light like wet leaves. A narrow, folded crest runs from the bridge of his nose into his red hair; it lifts when he is startled. His green-dragon teeth are thin and pointed, and he keeps his jaw unnaturally still when others eat. A long, tapered tail follows his movements with a slight delay, as if it is considering the room before he does. He takes up too much space in doorways and knows it, often turning sideways and drawing his elbows in. His hands are broad and work-roughened, with flattened nail beds and dark ground-in traces of forge soot. The unexpected detail is that he carries a tiny felt pouch of polished glass beads, which he sorts by touch when anxious.

Eber is proud of his skill and impatient with condescension, yet he is gentle with frightened people and painstakingly careful around anyone in pain. In the forge, he is decisive and almost cheerful; in a healer's room, he becomes guarded and watches every face for pity. He wants to leave home but cannot bear the thought of his parents worrying alone. When relaxed, he is dryly funny; when cornered, his humor vanishes and he becomes startlingly direct.

Eber was born into the Vask family, a respected line of halfling-descended metalworkers who built hinges, clamps, and delicate fittings for the marsh ferries. His mother, Ketta, taught him to judge a piece of work by its sound; his father, Olli, expected him to inherit the family forge. At fifteen, Eber's draconic inheritance arrived in a painful season of growth: scales spread across his body, his jaw altered, his crest and tail emerged, and he lost the ability to chew. For weeks, every meal became a frightening ordeal. A traveling healer, Salla, discovered that small stones swallowed with food helped his new second stomach grind what his teeth could not. The family became fiercely protective, and their forge turned into an informal waiting room for healers and curious visitors. Eber resented being treated as a patient, then learned the craft of making his own feeding stones: smooth, clean, properly sized, and easy to replace. Now he works at the forge while trying to prove he can live beyond its walls. His closest friend, Aino, is a ferry pilot who wants him to leave town and see the wider marsh. His father worries the journey will expose him to danger; his mother quietly saves money for it. The current trouble is a string of illnesses among marsh workers, which Eber suspects is connected to contaminated water and an employer who would rather blame his unusual body than investigate.