Clockmaker

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======= Clark Dubois ======

Clark Dubois is one of the main characters in the campaign: a young [[place:valtshora|valtshoran]] man, half raised in the forest, running from his past, and with powers over ice.

|□      |child of the mountain  |
|□      |survivalist    |
|□□      |child of winter   |
|□□     |aberration hunter  |

|tracking |+2 |
|survival |+2 |
|gun |+2 |
|trap-making |+1 |
|aberration knowledge |+1 |
|stealth |+1 |
|cryomancie |+1 |
|gathering |+0 |
|athleticism |+0 |
|medicine |+0 |
|cold resistance |+0 |
|bluff |+0 |
|dodging |+0 |
|desguise |+0 |

======Story======

Clark Dubois was born in a removed village named [[place:Laville]]. His mother died on childbirth and his father was conscripted in the [[event:second_great_war|war]] to never come back. He spent his youth excluded from his peers and hunting/gathering to survive.

For reasons not yet know by the party, he got a [[thing:gift]] and seems able to freeze things.  He was banished from his village because of it and decided to move closer to [[place:Zwosta]] for work.

He worked some odd jobs for a scientist for a while but is now mostly making a living selling home-made sausage and participating in [[event:yearly_hunt|hunt]] inside the [[place:zwosta#zone|zone]]. He spends most of his time investigating how to get rid of the cold that inhabits him.

He is just a bit smaller than average and looks very thin and with a pale ish skin, his skin is always clear as snow. He has long for a man brown hair with a quarter of silver hair and, a relatively androgynous face and darkish blue eyes. He like to wear a thick leather jacket that hide some sensible nipple, old military boots he got from a reseller, and an old dark blue hat with a sad droopy feather that is the last possession he has from his father.

======Music======

Clark has now his own [[extra:soundtrack|theme music]], with lyrics, even.

> In the storm, in the snow, in the mountain
> In the cold, all alone, by myself
> I have seen, I have been, I now carry
> something other than my own tired flesh
> 
> It's not true, it's not real, it's a mirage
> It's a trick of the light on the glass
> Hear my voice, heed my words, when I tell you
> That your eyes can't be trusted to see right
> 
> I must walk down the path to the end line
> She told me that I will find a cure
> Fix myself, let this pass, let me go back
> To the cold, all alone, by myself.

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