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Name:	Kelton mac Ronain
Species:	Anthropomorphic canine, species uncertain
Age:	48
Gender:	Male
Sex:	Male
Bond:	Colneiblith
Sponsorlings/Wards:	None
Birthplace:	Sitheil Tirean, Daralain (the 6th planet in orbit around the star Thuban, located in the constellation Draco)
Current Residence:	Sitheil Tirean, Splintyr Residential Sector
Appearance/Color/Markings:	Brown/tan fur with black markings. Reddish-brown eyes. Overall husky/solid build.
Physical Description:	Kelton is a stout-bodied anthropomorphic canine with brown fur and black markings. It is hard to tell from his overall appearance what species of canine he is - and he has never said - but he could easily be either a wolf or a dog (or a hybrid). He has a full head of hair (uncommon in Sitheil Tirean's native anthropomorphic wolf population) that he keeps clean and combed, but he does not seem to care one way or the other about its "style" and/or keeping up with the latest hairstyle trends amobgst the dog and dog-hybrid anthro populations. His eyes are an intense red-brown. He wears simple chef's clothing (again with zero regards to the clothing's style or coloration - he is only interested in protecting his fur from oil splatter.) The anthropomorphic animals on Sitheil Tirean often do not wear clothing (and even if they do, they rarely wear a "full outfit") - so it is somewhat seen as a bit of an oddity/quirk that Kelt wears a full outfit (meaning that, the average anthro chef might only wear an apron and armguards to protect from oil splatters.)
Height:	5'11"
Personality:	Kelton is brusque, but not unkind. He is hardworking to the point of overworking himself. He will often (gently) push away offers of help, not because he thinks he is the only one who can complete a task, but because he has a huge, secret fear of being a burden to others, so he tries to do everything himself. This, combined with his general workhorse mentality, means that he is left with little to no time to cultivate personal relationships or even friendships past the "casual" level. This has caused him to feel very lonely, but he never learned how to properly deal with those type of feelings, so he simply throws himself into his work even more. He is somewhat emotionally immature, but it is due to inexperience and not obstinance.
Abilities:	None
History/Backstory:	Kelton is the third-youngest child out of a total of ten children born to two canines who owned a small business on Splintyr. His unfortunate placement in the birth order resulted in a childhood of limbo: he was too old to be the "baby" of the family, coddled and fussed over, but too late-born to be given much, if any, of his parents' time and consideration. His birthday gifts consisted of hand-me-downs from his seven older siblings, and he was expected to willingly pass on his toys to his two younger sibs once his parents felt he had grown too old for them himself. While his family was nor poor by any means, Kelt rarely got anything new or anything that was "just for him". He learned quickly that acting out or being a "crybaby" did not change his position in life, nor did it gain him any more of his parents' attention. They were just too busy. His oldest siblings were already working at their parents' business by the time Kelt was born, and the middle children were left to fend for themselves and to look out for their younger sibs. Nothing terrible happened to Kelt during his childhood, but nothing good or happy really happened to him, either. His earliest memories were of his parents complaining how hard they had to work, and how hard it was to run a business alone. Kelt had no particular inclination to work at his parents' business (a shipping company) when he "grew up", but he had no particular inkling of what he actually did want to do. His parents would regularly bring their entire horde of children to work with them, however, and the shipping company's office was next door to a casual restaurant. Kelt and his siblings would often be given a bit of money (and a stern admonishing to behave themselves) and allowed to go "next door" to the restaurant to get a meal during the day. Kelt was quiet, but he had been raised to have manners, so he always thanked the staff after every meal - something his more boisterous siblings sometimes forgot to do. When Kelt was 14 and feeling more aimless than ever, the head chef came out of the back of the restaurant one day while Kelt and his siblings were eating lunch. "Are you going to work for your parents once you're 15, like your brothers and sisters?" the chef, an old one-eared wolf, asked Kelton. "I'm not sure, sir," Kelt replied. He paused for a moment, and when the old wolf only stood there, apparently waiting for more, he said, "I don't think I really want to, though." The old wolf looked up at the ceiling. "Do you think you'd consider being a chef?" "I never thought of it before, sir," Kelt said. Then, since something more seemed to be needed, he ventured, "It sounds fun, though." The old wolf cackled. "Fun? Fun? I don't know if I'd call it fun, but if you're a good enough chef, you'll never lack for work." And that was how Kelton mac Ronain became apprenticed to the restaurant's head chef. He worked at that restaurant for fifteen years, and then the old wolf told him about the huge network of caves on Sitheil Tirean that housed the Gates and the Schattarneki dragons. Kelt had heard about the area before and about its breeding projects, but he had never been there himself. The old wolf told him that they were looking for a new head chef in the residential sector, and he told Kelt to go and have a talk with the wolf who ran the whole place. Kelt didn't exactly feel a grand pull of ambition or anything, but made an appointment to speak with Lakota out of respect for his master's wishes. And THAT was how Kelton mac Ronain became the head chef for all of the staff and other residents of the Splintyr sector of Sitheil Tirean.
Stories:	Kelton placed the heavy carton he was carrying onto the large wooden prep table in the center of his kitchen. He stretched with his hands pressed into the small of his back, listening to his spine crackle. He let out a small sigh. When had he gotten so old? "Getting old?" a voice asked from behind him. He spun around (ignoring a small twinge of protest from his lower back) and saw Lakota leaning in the kitchen's arched entranceway. Her yellow-and-black-furred arms were crossed over her chest. She was not quite grinning. "No older than you," he replied. "How old are you, anyway? I've been here twenty years, and you--" "Exactly," Lakota interrupted him. "You've been here for twenty years, and you've refused every assistant I've thrown at you." "I'm fine," he said. "I don't need help." "Yes, you do." "I'm fine," he repeated. She raised one eyebrow, seeming to indicate several things all at once: the slightly haphazardly-stacked supply crates along one wall (which had never been haphazardly-stacked in previous years when he had been younger), the giant pile of firewood near the old-fashioned woodstove (he found he grew too tired to make multiple trips out to the wood-storage and preferred having more wood on hand), and his hands, which were still pressed to the small of his back. She lowered the eyebrow and continued, in a gentler tone, "You do need help, Kelt. You don't have any magical abilities like Kaere does - which is fine! - but Splintyr is getting more and more populated these days, which means there's a lot more staff and residents and bonders than there were twenty years ago." After a brief pause she added, "And I personally think we could use more variety on the menu." He threw a spatula at her, which she ducked. Now she was grinning.

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