Born amidst the swirling, translucent mists of the Ethereal Plane, Zephyr lived a life devoid of texture, heat, or salt. To his people, the 'breath of life' was a literal, sterile breeze. To Zephyr, it was a tragedy of missed potential. He descended to the Material Plane not to conquer or protect, but to feast. He quickly realized that the druidic circles viewed nature as a museum; Zephyr viewed it as a well-stocked pantry. He joined the Circle of the Moon not to commune with the beast, but to master its anatomy for the sake of the perfect sear.
His life changed when he encountered a dying Silver Dragon who offered him its hoard in exchange for a final mercy. Zephyr ignored the gold, instead spending the dragon's final hour concocting a broth of arctic lichen and mountain goat marrow that made the ancient wyrm weep with joy before passing. Since then, Zephyr has followed 'The Chef’s Mandate': a rigid code of honor ensuring every ingredient is harvested with respect, prepared with soul, and seasoned with the divine. He hunts the most dangerous monsters in the realm, convinced that the higher the CR, the more complex the flavor profile.