ver. 0.3.2
Kaelos Valen - Details

STR

14 (2)

DEX

16 (3)

CON

10 (0)

INT

12 (1)

WIS

8 (-1)

CHA

10 (0)

Administer

2

Connect

2

Exert

2

Fix

-1

Heal

1

Know

0

Lead

0

Notice

2

Perform

-1

Pilot

2

Program

-1

Punch

2

Shoot

2

Sneak

1

Stab

1

Survive

-1

Talk

2

Trade

1

Work

0

MAX HP

15

Speed

30ft

Occupation

High-Risk Trader

Archetype (i.e. Class)

Adventurer

AC

12

Age

42

Species

Human

Gender

Male


Backstory

Kaelos Valen was born and raised in the unforgiving streets of Verokha. He learned to rely on his wits and cunning to survive from a young age. As he grew older, he honed his skills as a thief and smuggler, eventually earning the trust of Madame Ziemie and becoming her go-to man for getting rid of unwanted messes. Despite his tough exterior, Kaelos has a deep-seated desire to be free from the criminal lifestyle and start anew. He's currently located in the Zieme Family Estate, where he's been laying low after a recent job went sour.

It was on one fateful night, while attempting to pilfer valuable artifacts from an underground market, that Kaelos stumbled upon a mysterious data-shard containing ancient knowledge. The discovery sparked a fire within him, driving him to take greater risks and seek out more lucrative opportunities. His reputation as a high-risk trader spread throughout Marlowe Heights, drawing the attention of various factions vying for power in the sector.

As Kaelos navigates the treacherous landscape of Verokha's underworld, he must confront his own demons and make difficult choices to achieve his goal of freedom. Will his loyalty to Madame Ziemie and his reputation as a high-risk trader be enough to keep him safe, or will his recklessness ultimately be his downfall?


Description

Kaelos Valen steps out of the shadows, his worn leather duster coat flapping behind him like a dark wing. The cybernetic augmentations on his arms and legs gleam with a faint blue light as he moves, their gentle hum filling the air. His eyes, a piercing shade of indigo, seem to bore into those around him, as if sizing them up for potential profit or trouble. A silver-tipped cigar hangs precariously from the corner of his mouth, and the scent of ozone and stale tobacco clings to him like an old friend.