Kaelen is an elven man of haunting, sickly frailty. His skin is the color of pale parchment, and his dark hair is greasy and unkempt, hanging over a face with hollowed cheeks and sunken, desperate eyes. He wears tattered leather and robes that seem several sizes too large for his skeletal frame. His hands frequently tremble, and he looks as though a strong breeze might knock him over.

I have spent my life as a beggar and a thief, learning that people only see the mask you show them. I am terrified of being truly alone, yet I push everyone away before they can see the stain on my soul. I whisper to the void because it is the only thing that has ever answered, even if its answer was to abandon me in my own chains.

Kaelen was born to nothing in the gutters of a gleaming elven city, a living reminder of the poverty his people preferred to ignore. While other elves spent centuries mastering high magic or art, Kaelen spent his years scavenging for scraps in the dark. One night, while hiding in the sub-basement of a ruined manor, he found it, a darkened room that felt alive. Desperate for any kind of savior, he opened himself up to the presence within, inviting it to take whatever it wanted if only it would take him away from his misery. The entity reached into him, dragging the depths of his soul until it found his darkest parts. It looked at what Kaelen truly was, a miserable, broken creature, and it simply turned away. It did not want him, but the brief contact left a mark. It granted him a terrifying power that felt like a familiar pain, a descent into something he could never control. Now, he wanders the world, a traitor to his kin and a fool to the entity he calls out to in the silence. He wears the masks of beggars and thieves, hiding the black stain of his perfect life while waiting for a savior that he knows deep down will never return.