Kessha's soul was transmigrated into a cheetah demi-human body in Aetheria. A translucent Lattice interface tracks her stats, skills, and quests. At Level 3 she will gain the Lattice-Touched boon, allowing her to sense planar disturbances.
Once per turn, deal an extra 1d6 damage to a target you hit with an attack using a Finesse or Ranged weapon if you have Advantage on the roll, or if another enemy of the target is within 5 feet of it and you don't have Disadvantage.
Your base walking speed is 40 feet. When you take the Dash action, you gain temporary hit points equal to your Proficiency Bonus (2). You can use this benefit a number of times equal to your Proficiency Bonus per Short or Long Rest.
Choose two skill proficiencies (or one using Thieves' Tools) to double your proficiency bonus: Kessha selects Stealth and Thieves' Tools (Stealth becomes +7).
Add your Proficiency Bonus to Initiative rolls. Immediately after rolling Initiative, you may swap your Initiative with one willing ally in the same combat.
You gain Darkvision out to 60 feet and have Advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on hearing or smell.
You know Thieves' Cant plus one language of your choice; you can also read a language you know at a glance.
Behind the character
Kessha Swiftclaw is a wiry cheetah demi-human scout, standing just over five and a half feet of coiled, twitchy energy. Her short golden fur is patterned with the black rosettes of a cheetah, covering forearms, throat, and the spotted tail that flicks constantly behind her—a barometer of her nerves. Her face remains the most human part of her: sharp-cheekboned, freckle-dappled beneath the fur, framed by honey-blonde hair and crowned with large rounded feline ears that swivel at every sound. Her eyes are her most striking feature—wide amber pools with vertical slit pupils that catch lantern light like a cat's, always scanning, always calculating escape routes.
She dresses practically for a rogue's life: worn leather armor over a traveler's shirt, a faded burglar's pack riding her hip, and a shortbow slung across her back. Fingerless gloves protect her palms while leaving claw-tipped fingers free for climbing and lockpicking. Everything about her silhouette is built for speed—narrow shoulders, long legs, a low center of gravity that lets her drop into a sprinter's crouch in an instant.
Beneath the exterior, Kessha is a woman in permanent culture shock. She remembers being human—another world, another life—and the dissonance of inhabiting this sleek predator's body shows in her hesitation before mirrors, her startled reactions to her own enhanced senses, and her nervous habit of flexing her claws when anxious. Yet the body suits her. In her old life she was quick-witted, restless, and always looking for the angle; now she literally has the reflexes to match.
She is Chaotic Good to her core: distrustful of authority, fiercely protective of the vulnerable, and constitutionally incapable of walking past someone being bullied. Her humor is dry and self-deprecating, usually aimed at the absurdity of a translucent rune-panel narrating her life. She is only beginning to trust her new companion, the shark demi-human, but shared danger in Brinewatch is forging that bond fast.
Before the adventure
Before Aetheria, Kessha was an ordinary woman from an ordinary world—quick with a joke, quicker with her hands, and chronically unable to hold a steady job because sitting still felt like drowning. She scraped by with odd jobs, a little casual shoplifting in her younger years, and an encyclopedic knowledge of locks, security systems, and the blind spots of authority figures. She never thought of herself as a criminal so much as someone the system had never made room for. That instinct—survive by your wits, trust no badge, help the person being stepped on—transferred wholesale into her new existence as a Rogue with a Criminal background.
She woke on the wet cobblestones of Brinewatch's docks during the Tidefall Festival, gasping in a body that was not hers, with a translucent blue Lattice panel flickering in her vision: 'Welcome, Lattice-Bound. Status: Unranked. Skills: Pending.' The salt air, the roar of demi-human crowds, the fireworks over the harbor—all of it was overwhelming, and all of it was real. Her new cheetah senses bombarded her: scents she could parse individually, sounds from three streets away, a heartbeat of raw speed coiled in her legs.
The Lattice quantified everything—her Dexterity, her Sneak Attack, her proficiency bonus—turning her into a character sheet made flesh. She hates it and is quietly fascinated by it in equal measure.
Brinewatch itself is a bustling medieval port city of stone quays, fish markets, and shadowed Undercity tunnels, currently celebrating the Tidefall Festival under the polished smile of Magistrate Veyra Sorn. Kessha's street instincts pricked immediately: too many guards watching the crowd instead of the harbor, posters about missing demi-humans, a crate stenciled with a strange sigil. When a young mouse demi-human named Lira begged help finding her vanished brother, Kessha's old-world conscience and her new rogue's skill set aligned for the first time.
Her species traits mark her as something unusual even among Aetheria's demi-humans. Cheetah Reflexes give her a 40-foot stride and bursts of temporary vigor when she Dashes; Feline Senses grant darkvision and acute hearing and smell. Old Marrow, the retired adventurer who runs the Drowned Rat tavern, has hinted that Lattice-Bound outsiders like her are rare—and that Veyra Sorn collects rare things. Kessha suspects her arrival was no accident, that she and her shark demi-human companion were summoned for a purpose tied to the conspiracy unraveling beneath Brinewatch.
At third level, the Lattice promises the Lattice-Touched boon: the ability to sense planar disturbances. Until then, she does what she has always done—moves fast, watches everything, picks the locks nobody wants picked, and refuses to let the powerful grind down the small. The trail of golden key amulets leads into the dark, and Kessha Swiftclaw is following it at a dead sprint.
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