A lean male tabaxi with charcoal-gray fur, pale ochre eyes, and a long ringed tail marked by a single white tip. His ears are nicked from alley fights, and a narrow scar cuts across his left muzzle. He wears patched leather armor beneath a weather-stained green coat, with copper wire charms braided into his whiskers and a dull iron ring hanging from one ear.

Tzicqet is watchful, dryly humorous, and intensely curious about anything hidden, forbidden, or expensive. He can be charming when he wants information, but he dislikes prolonged attention and prefers to observe from rafters, balconies, and shadowed corners. He is generous with food and suspicious of gifts.

Tzicqet grew up beneath the market bridges of a sprawling river city, where the gutters ran warm in winter and every rooftop belonged to someone dangerous. His first lessons came from other abandoned children, who taught him how to lift a purse without breaking stride, sleep beneath carts, and recognize which guards could be bribed. He survived by carrying messages, stealing food, and guiding travelers through alleys that did not appear on any official map. The city became his den, but never his home. He kept a small mouse named Cinder for company, convinced that caring for one fragile creature was proof he had not become entirely feral. One night, while hiding in a collapsed shrine beneath the oldest district, Tzicqet found a black glass shard etched with symbols that seemed to move when he blinked. The voice behind it offered no grand promises, only answers to questions he had never been able to ask, such as why some people were born with doors open before them while others were left in the mud. He accepted the bargain with a presence from beyond the stars, gaining the power to bend minds and call eldritch light from his claws. Tzicqet does not worship his patron, nor does he fully trust it. He treats the pact as another dangerous arrangement, one that might someday buy him freedom, if he can discover what his unseen benefactor truly wants.