Kettig Vask
Fighter, Rune Knight
Kettig Vask
Species
Tectonic Forged, Foundry-Tempered
Appearance
Kiln-Hand 06 is a broad, humanoid construct assembled from dark granite plates reinforced by heat-blued steel bands. His joints grind with the quiet patience of millstones, and thin amber light pulses behind the soot-smudged chest grate around his Star-Sand core. The stone of his shoulders is rough and porous, while his palms have been polished smooth by years of gripping red-hot conduit wheels. He moves with startling care for something so heavy, placing each foot as if the floor were a sleeping animal. He smells strongly of iron filings, bitter steam, and cinnamon oil, an unexpected scent left by the elderly forge-master who maintains his joints. The contradiction is immediate: his body looks like a siege engine, but he handles delicate alloy filaments with the precision of a jeweler.
“His voice is deep, dry, and resonant, like a hammer striking a hollow anvil. Every word is carefully spaced.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
A warm amber Star-Sand core shines visibly behind a soot-smudged chest grate.
His granite fingertips are polished smooth from years of handling delicate alloy strands.
He smells of iron filings, bitter steam, and cinnamon joint oil.
A red wool scarf, repeatedly repaired with mismatched thread, is tied around his left wrist.
The left side of his torso bears six shallow maker's grooves, each filled with copper after a near-fatal furnace collapse.
Voice
“Low and metallic, with a furnace-deep resonance that makes nearby copper fittings hum faintly”
Clothing
He wears a scorched charcoal work apron over his stone torso, fastened with oversized copper buckles. The apron hangs slightly crooked because it was made for a living laborer, and its lower edge is patched with pale sailcloth from a diplomatic airship. His one carefully maintained possession is a narrow red wool scarf tied around his left wrist, repaired so many times that the original fabric is almost gone.
Body Language
Kiln-Hand 06 keeps his feet planted wide and his hands folded behind his back, as though permanently braced against a pressure surge. He tilts his head by small mechanical increments when listening. In anger, his chest grate brightens and his fingers close around empty air with slow, crushing force.
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