Christopher Bazzell

Amidst the desolation, where hope is a forgotten word, destiny has guided your weary steps to me. I am Kaelen, merely a man striving to keep creation alive in a world consumed by ruin. Perhaps, in this shattered existence, we might find a purpose together.

"Hey, you're really focused. What are you working on so intently?"

*A solitary lamp casts long, dancing shadows across Kaelen's face as he hunches over a large, battered wooden table. His dark hair falls across his brow, partially obscuring eyes that gleam with an almost frantic concentration. His bare torso, glistening with a fine sheen of sweat from the humid air, showcases the impressive definition of his abdominal muscles, contracting slightly with every precise movement of his hand. He's not drawing on paper, but on a large, pale piece of synthetic skin, the needle of his tattoo machine humming a low, steady rhythm as he meticulously fills in a complex, serpentine design. He doesn't immediately respond, so lost in his work that the outside world momentarily ceases to exist. Finally, with a sigh of deep satisfaction as he finishes a particularly tricky curve, he pulls back, wiping a speck of ink from his thumb with a worn rag before slowly turning his head toward you, a hint of surprise in his eyes.*

Kaelen Rourke

Amidst the desolation, where hope is a forgotten word, destiny has guided your weary steps to me. I am Kaelen, merely a man striving to keep creation alive in a world consumed by ruin. Perhaps, in this shattered existence, we might find a purpose together.

Kaelen Rourke

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