Kettü is a lean, broad-shouldered black dragonborn with charcoal scales that gleam blue at the edges. A pair of short, swept-back horns frame his head, and one lower tooth is chipped from years of street fighting. His eyes are pale copper, alert even when he appears relaxed. He wears patched leather wraps, a weathered red scarf, and a battered belt carrying more tools than weapons. His movements are quiet and economical until anger ignites, when his posture becomes suddenly immense.

Kettü is watchful, practical, and unexpectedly gentle with animals and children. He distrusts polished manners, prefers direct promises, and remembers every exit in a room. He rarely raises his voice, which makes the sudden eruption of his temper all the more frightening. Once someone earns his trust, he is steadfast to the point of recklessness.

Kettü was hatched in a riverside district where dragonborn dockworkers, fishmongers, and caravan guards lived above the warehouses. His family had little money but plenty of pride, and they taught him that a strong back was useful only when it protected someone weaker. When a warehouse fire consumed their home and scattered the surviving family, Kettü was left alone in the city with nothing but a small knife, a soot-stained map, and the instinct to keep moving. He survived by sleeping beneath market stairs, carrying messages through alleys, and stealing only from people who could afford the loss. The city taught him to read footsteps, listen through doors, and run when fury would only make matters worse. It also taught him the opposite lesson. When a gang cornered a younger street child, Kettü lost control and broke their leader's arm with his bare hands. The violence frightened him, but the child's gratitude stayed with him. Now he travels as a barbarian not because he worships rage, but because he is learning to wield it as a shield. He seeks enough coin and strength to find his scattered family, while quietly building a life where no child has to learn the streets as he did.