Level
3
Experience
1,600 XP
The Condemned Legion called him “Redmaw.”
No one asked whether he hated the name.
No one stayed close enough to find out.
Kaelin is a man in his early thirties, though the curse has begun to sharpen his features in ways that do not look fully human:
Even in pure human form, people often step back from him without understanding why. Something in his posture signals danger—deep, primal danger.
Kaelin is not savage.
He is not cruel.
But he is dangerous, and he knows it.
Kaelin speaks rarely, preferring to watch and listen. His silences are not hostile—they are calculated, the stillness of a predator waiting for the right moment to act. He often notices details others ignore: shifting winds, a distant metallic scent, someone’s heartbeat rising.
Despite the curse bound to his blood, Kaelin retains a surprising amount of humanity. He avoids unnecessary violence. He despises the idea of killing innocents and has long feared what he might do if he loses control again.
He carries guilt for crimes he may not even remember committing.
Kaelin keeps his word once given—perhaps because it’s one of the few things still his. He treats fairness as a lifeline to morality, clinging to small acts of honesty and restraint to anchor himself against the tide of savagery beneath his skin.
The nights near the full moon weigh on him. He becomes terse, restless, pacing like a caged beast. He warns others to keep distance. It is not false modesty or theatrics—it is genuine fear of what he may become.
His decisions often follow instinct rather than logic. He trusts his senses—even when he distrusts everything else, including his memories.
