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The common born Zeriax hailed from the Northlands originally. At least, that's what he'd admit to. His build, while certainly fitting of the more 'barbaric' people, doesn't quite match his more southern city-state mannerisms and eloquence. Even still, his physicality and temperament sometimes drift into those found in The Mourning Isles. If ever asked, he'd just say he's 'been around'. While that much may be true, the extent of his travels have never been pinned down. The events in his youth that set him trailblazing around at an early age are alluded to only in passing mention of a drunken father and flighty mother, neither of which are spoken of with any endearment. Despite the dangers between populated areas, he began his journey alone. That idea soon lost its sway after a violent encounter with a large cat, Zeriax discovering the meaning of 'safety in numbers'. In the years following, he managed to fall in with groups travelling between population centers, bringing him from city to city as a drifter. Menial labour in exchange for safe harbour was common, though stowing away on ships in secret or shadowing caravans weren't exactly uncommon either. Eventually, he ended up in Arx, and has remained anchored there ever since. Ventures out into the world aren't uncommon for him, returning to the city with new tales to tell each time. Or, in some cases, new trinkets and baubles to show off and aggrandize. The skills he acquired throughout his travels seem eclectic, but he manages to make them work for him, earning coin and reputation with his penchant for pairing entertainment with enlightenment.

Tall, but not overly so, Zeriax is built like someone born in the harsh, unforgiving wild. Raised by wolves might just be an expression, but the physicality exuded by the man gives pause to those who would scoff. Broad shoulders top a muscular build, arms of corded muscle ending in hands made for climbing rather than writing. His complexion isn't nearly as fair as a Northerner, having been lightly caressed by the sun. Memories of mishaps and violence are engraved in his flesh. Claw marks drag across his back and arms. Wounds from sharpened blades and arrow tips long since healed show along many parts of his body, and even odd shapes from rips and tears of vines and stone lash across his form. While certainly each scar tells a story, more prominent against his skin are the darker lines of ink. Each tattoo is small and geometric, some grouped together to form a coloured pattern. Those who dabble in ciphers might recognize certain patterns within the imagery displayed along his thighs, back, and arms...if ever they were to have the chance to see them. Rounding out his rugged appearance is his ash coloured hair, grown out long enough to fall just beyond his deep amber eyes. When combined with his perpetual stubble, his wild semi-unkept hair and yellowish eyes provide for a most 'wolfish' countenance.

Potentially eccentric to some, mystical to others, Zeriax is equally as enthusiastic as he is withdrawn. While managing to be informative and engaging, he remains oddly reticent and impersonal. He possesses a large amount of energy and bears an easy confidence, but for those perceptive enough to see through the barrage of words and actions, he'll likely give off the impression he's hiding something, keeping all his cards close to heart. He's quick to smile, quicker to share stories, and even quicker to ask questions, his inquisitive and playful nature coming to the forefront of any interaction.