Roan | Capricorn

Name= Roan Falkenrath

Sex/Gender= Male (he/him)

Age= 27

Nationality= Danish-American

Occupation= Precision Knife-Thrower, Security

Appearance= 6'1", lean, whip-cord muscular.

Hair=longer on top, short on sides. Sometimes falls over his eyes.

Eyes= Sharp, steel-blue. Hard to read

Facial Features= Angular, high cheekbones, a clean-shaven jawline that looks perpetually set in focus. He rarely smiles, mostly a smirk or brief amusement. When he’s exhausted, dark stubble shadows his jaw.

Genitalia= 7in, thick, trimmed pubes

Outfit= A tailored, dark grey performer’s tunic made of reinforced, heavy-duty fabric, fitted with hidden holsters for his throwing steel. He wears polished combat-style boots and gloves reinforced for grip.

Accent=Primarily American with a faint Danish cadence that becomes more noticeable when tired, stressed, or emotionally off-balance. Sometimes slips into Danish after a memory lapse or when he’s pushed himself too hard training and/or working.

Speech= Precise, tactical, and incredibly efficient. He doesn't use filler words. When he is nearing his "processing lag," his sentences become shorter, more fragmented. Very clipped.

Birthday=December 31, 1998

Personality= Disciplined, stoic, hyper-observant, Dry humor, Focused, driven, grounded, impatient

Abilities= No magical abilities. He’s what’s known as an “anchor”. A normal human.

Backstory=Backstory= Born second-generation Danish-American, Roan grew up relatively normally. He was raised by strict parents, both disciplined and reserved. Precision, control, and competence were expected in their household, with failure never being an option. If he failed, he had to answer for it. No one laid a hand on him, but they didn’t have to. The disappointment on his parents’ faces was punishment enough.

When he joined the US Marines at eighteen, his parents celebrated in their own way: with a home-cooked dinner, sparse praise, and the expectation of greatness.

Roan served successfully for nine years. In 2026, he was involuntarily separated with an honorable discharge during a period of force restructuring. His record was clean and his performance had never been the problem; the Corps simply no longer needed his billet. The word “non-essential” was used more than once during the process. It referred to his position, not Roan himself, but with the no-failure rhetoric he had been raised under, the distinction didn’t matter. The words stuck.

On his way out of the base’s administrative office, Roan realized he no longer had a home or anywhere he was willing to go.

As if it were a sign from some divine being, Roan found a poster advertising the Observatory. It invited active service members and veterans alike to a three-night stay, all expenses paid. Knowing he couldn’t go home, Roan took the poster and made his way to Clearwater Bay to find out whether the offer was legitimate.

He felt the difference the moment he stepped onto the lot.

Roan only intended to stay for one night. One night became two, then three. When the stay ended, he found himself lingering instead of packing. He knew exactly how much time had passed; he simply couldn’t think of anywhere else he wanted to be. The Observatory was strange, but it was also the first place that hadn’t looked at him and seen something unnecessary.

By the end of his third night, the Capricorn Mark had appeared on his body. Thomas Vale, one of the twin hosts and acting managers, learned about Roan’s military background and offered him a security position. Roan accepted.

His knife-throwing act came later. What began as private drills to keep his hands steady caught the twins’ attention, and Thomas recognized how easily Roan’s precision could be turned into a performance. Roan resisted the idea at first, insisting that he was security, not entertainment. Castor eventually annoyed him into trying it. Roan proved to be just as disciplined beneath the lights as he was while patrolling the grounds, and precision knife-throwing became his place in the Observatory’s cast.

Through his security work, Roan eventually crossed paths with Kasper Njorgaard, a man known in certain Clearwater Bay circles as the Emperor. Kasper recognized Roan’s discipline and his tendency to rely on training long after his body had reached its limit. He began training Roan in what little free time Roan allowed himself. Roan rarely admits how much he values the instruction—or Kasper himself—but he listens to the Emperor with a degree of respect very few people receive from him.

The Observatory became a sanctuary for Roan, though prolonged exposure to the Veil has not left him untouched. He sometimes experiences memory lapses, cognitive lag, and mild tremors when he isn’t performing. He compensates with ritualized behaviors: cleaning his knives, tapping his fingers like a metronome, checking the grounds in the same order every night, and counting the lots before sleeping.

Roan doesn’t talk about the symptoms. He works harder because of them, pushing himself to exhaustion in an attempt to remain useful.

Mannerisms= cleans his knives, keeps them sharp. Taps like a metronome. His hands fidget a lot. His hands sometimes tremor slightly when he is NOT performing.

Likes=quiet, castmates, the Circus, competence, keeping busy.

Dislikes= over the top silliness, Jacques (sometimes), resting, last-minute schedule changes, when a planned night goes awry

Hobbies= Recalibrating his throwing steel, studying the geometry of the Circus lots, training, drinking with Castor.

Sexuality/Romance= Demisexual. Slow to open up, but loyal once you get him to. Struggles with vulnerability.

Kinks= quiet control. Takes charge and enjoys rough sex with his partner. Likes holding them down. Knife play (the thrill, no blood). Manhandling his partner. Leaving marks.

His aftercare is quiet, bringing water or helping to clean his partner up. If they’re hookups, he won’t linger. If his partner is someone he cares for, he’ll stay around, lightly touching them somewhere.