Caelen Frost-Singer
Wizard 13, School of Divination and custom Chronurgy, Bard 4, College of Lore
Caelen Frost-Singer
Species
Human
Appearance
Caelen Frost-Singer is a sun-baked, extraordinarily ancient human man whose translucent skin has the delicate texture of onion paper stretched over knotted roots. His wild silver hair falls in a tangled cascade to his waist, threaded with tiny brass springs and flakes of blue ice. Cataract-clouded eyes give him a blind man's unfocused stare, yet he often turns toward hidden movement before anyone else notices it. He walks with a lurching, uneven rhythm, dragging one heel as though following music only he can hear, then suddenly moving with startling speed and precision. His presence smells faintly of cold iron, old wool, and dust after lightning. The unexpected contradiction is that his frail, parchment-thin body can briefly display the posture and strength of a much younger man whenever he hears a machine begin to awaken.
“A soft, breathy murmur frequently interrupted by humming, whispered apologies, and sudden technically precise observations. He speaks to objects as though they are elderly relatives and sometimes sings the final words of a sentence.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
Cataract-clouded eyes that seem to focus through solid stone
A necklace made from broken clock hands, each stopped at a different hour
A left hand with two unusually long fingers stained permanently blue by chronal ink
Bronze pendulums on his mantle that swing toward hidden magic
A faint crackling sound around him whenever someone mentions the future
Voice
“Thin and papery, like wind passing through a cracked flute, but capable of becoming unexpectedly resonant when he sings to stone. In moments of danger, his voice briefly sounds like several ages speaking at once.”
Clothing
He wears heavily patched layers of brown, gray, and frost-stiffened wool robes crusted with salt and dried glacial silt. A tattered scholar's mantle hangs from his shoulders, covered in pinned bronze gears, tuning forks, cracked lenses, tiny bells, and mechanical pendulums that never quite swing in the same direction. His boots are wrapped in seal leather and repaired with red thread.
Body Language
Caelen tilts his head toward masonry as though listening to distant speech. His fingers conduct invisible rhythms, and his shoulders twitch whenever someone lies. When frightened, he becomes perfectly still rather than retreating.
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