Sean has a perpetual smudge of grease across his cheek and a messy mane of brown hair that refuses to stay down. He wears worn scale mail that he has personally polished and modified with small, glowing copper wires. His hands are calloused and stained with various inks, and a pair of brass-rimmed goggles is almost always resting on his forehead.

He is intensely curious and views every problem as a puzzle that can be solved with the right tool. He is friendly and prone to fast talking, often jumping from one technical explanation to another without pausing for breath. Despite his chaotic workspace, he cares deeply about the well-being of others and will spend hours perfecting a mechanical toy for a sad child.

Sean spent his early adulthood as a junior scribe in the Great Archives, a massive library dedicated to preserving ancient knowledge. While others were content transcribing old poems, Sean was obsessed with the discarded schematics found in the margins of spellbooks. He spent his nights in the library's basement, building strange devices that hissed and popped, much to the annoyance of the head librarians. One evening, an attempt to build a self-inking pen resulted in a localized gravitational anomaly that cleared the room of every book on the shelves. This incident was the final straw for the archive staff. Sean was politely but firmly asked to pursue his research elsewhere, provided that 'elsewhere' was at least ten miles from the city gates. He took his severance pay, his favorite smithing hammer, and a collection of stolen blueprints into the wild. He now roams the land, convinced that the world is a giant machine that simply needs a few missing parts to run perfectly.