Profile

❝ Ever tell you how the Kid got himself wrapped up in this mess to begin with? The past catches up with the Kid, hardly had a moment's rest since all this started. Fair to say he's lead a hard life, supposin' what he says in his sleep ain't no lie. He never knew his old man, but he had his mama to take care of. Frail thing, with pure white hair like his-- havin' his mama's hair did the Kid no favors while he was growing up, but he learned to hold his own out there. School ain't workin' out, so the Kid signs up for a turn on the Ripplin' Walls, make his mama some money. Thanks to folks like the Kid, the Walls kept Caelondia safe from... whatever's out there. The elements. The Ura. You name it.

Once the Kid done his time, he hurried on home. Turns out his mama's time was done, too. The City had nothin' for him; the money he'd been sending home was nowhere to be found, neither. So what did the Kid do? Why, he went right on back to the Walls, for another five years. In the history of Caelondia, nobody's ever volunteered for a second shift on the Walls.

Out there, Kid learned how to fend for himself. Learned to build, learned to break. In time, the Kid earned good standing with the Marshals. They trusted him to scout out farther than anybody. One night, on one of his expeditions, the ground beneath him shuddered, cracked, and split apart. He saw nothin' where the world used to be. The Calamity happened, just like that. All the Kid had to work with was his hammer, and the clothes on his back. Through twisted streets, he ran with nothin' but the City Crest, and an old Stranger's voice to guide him.

Well he finally arrived at Caelondia's vaulted safe haven-- he, and no one else. But then, all he got was more thankless work, from a man who ain't even asked his name. Sure, I may be the one who dreamt up the Walls and the Bastion, but the Kid made 'em real, not me. I'd like to say I'll never forget him, or what he's doin'. What he's done. I surely would. ❞