Kaelen is a man whose very presence feels weighed down by the gravity of the plateau. His skin is the color of pale parchment stained by years of engine oil and metallic dust. He moves with a deliberate, slow heavy gait. The most striking thing about him is the constant fine tremor in his soot-stained hands which ceases only when he grips a tool. His eyes are a sharp, piercing amber that seems to see through people as if they were poorly constructed machines. He wears a heavy leather apron stiff with dried resins and a pair of massive lead-soled boots. Surprisingly, he keeps his thinning hair tied back with a delicate silk ribbon of vibrant violet, a jarring splash of color against his otherwise utilitarian and grime-covered form.