Kaelen is a hulking mass of a man, standing broader than most doorways in the Forlorn district. His skin is the texture of cured leather, mapped with the history of a thousand physical labor shifts. His left foot is permanently twisted inward, causing a heavy, rhythmic thud-scrape gait when he walks. Despite his intimidating size and the rough, gravelly rumble of his voice, his eyes are surprisingly soft, like weathered sea glass. His hands are his most striking feature: massive, scarred, and perpetually stained with the faint residue of ale and floor sawdust, yet he handles delicate glassware with the precision of a jeweler.