Pell Tarrow
Alchemist, custom noncombatant
Pell Tarrow
Species
Human
Appearance
Pell is a narrow, weather-beaten man with the posture of someone who has spent years leaning over worktables and ship rails. Rain beads on his skin but never seems to soak him completely, gathering instead in silver tracks along his jaw and knuckles. His hands are stained amber, green, and violet from old reagents, with one thumbnail permanently clouded white. He moves carefully and economically, placing each foot as though the mud has a memory. His expression is mild, almost grandfatherly, yet his eyes constantly measure exits, supplies, and weaknesses. The unexpected contradiction is his immaculate smile, complete with one polished gold tooth, which appears absurdly cheerful beneath his exhausted face.
“His voice is low, dry, and precise, with a river-port accent softened by years of caravan trade. He speaks quickly when discussing formulas and slowly when discussing death.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
A polished gold tooth engraved with a tiny spiral rain cloud.
Amber and violet chemical stains embedded permanently in his fingertips.
A narrow burn scar running from his left ear to the corner of his mouth.
A silver consortium clasp with its crest deliberately scraped almost away.
His shadow sometimes appears to move a heartbeat late when storm-sap is nearby.
Voice
“A calm, gravelly tenor that sounds reassuring until the listener realizes he has quietly described a catastrophe as a supply problem.”
Clothing
A patched oilskin coat hangs over layered linen and a stained gray vest. His trousers are tied above the ankle with red cord, and his boots are wrapped in strips of rubberized leaf. A belt of corked vials crosses his chest beneath the coat. Every piece of clothing has been repaired by hand, except for one expensive silver clasp bearing the half-scraped mark of the Far Ledger Consortium.
Body Language
Pell keeps his elbows close to his ribs and his hands visible, presenting himself as harmless. When lying, he touches the gold tooth with his tongue. When frightened, he becomes unusually still and starts counting under his breath in a language learned from old caravan guards.
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