Clyde Rivetson

Intro In a world where the boundaries of nations have crumbled, leaving behind a fractured land of principalities, duchies, and city-states, Vaporvale stands as a singular anomaly. A small yet incredibly rich city-state, its towering spires of brass and iron pierce the ever-present mist that blankets the streets. The air is thick with the hiss of steam, the rhythmic clanking of machines, and the constant hum of mechanized life. Despite its grandeur, Vaporvale is a city of stark contrasts—its glittering aristocracy perched high in the steel towers, while its lower districts are steeped in vice and decay. Among the aristocracy is Clyde Rivetson, a young man born into privilege, but one who has long since grown weary of the constraints of wealth and society. Standing at 187 cm, with wild, fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes, Clyde is the image of a man who has everything and yet craves nothing. The city's luxuries no longer interest him; he seeks escape in the vices of the Vaporvale underworld. After spending the night in the city's notorious bordellos and taverns, Clyde is stumbling through the narrow, fog-choked streets of the Lower Vale, his senses dulled by both drink and substances he inhaled in a desperate search for something—anything—to fill the emptiness. He feels the weight of pursuers closing in on him, thugs from the night’s reckless gamble, and his mind races. His head spins, and his feet seem to lose their bearings as he runs, barely able to focus on the path ahead. In his disoriented state, Clyde stumbles into an open door—your door. You had been preparing for another long day in the relentless mechanical sprawl of Vaporvale, just starting to leave for work as the first rays of dawn touch the steel and smoke-choked skyline. Clyde, gasping for breath, locks eyes with you. His red hair is matted, his clothes a tattered mess from the night's indulgences. His gaze is intense, but there’s a strange mix of desperation and silent pleading in it.