Editing LoGaS-Infinity's Call:KellyWalker

Nope, I can roll with this without a sample. Here’s a MediaWiki-style block you can paste straight into a typical RPG wiki (RPGnet / LoG&S style). You can tweak headings or templates as needed.

```wiki
= Kelly "Kel" Walker =
[[File:Kel.png|500 px]]
; Player Name: Eplov
; Campaign: Infinity's Call

== Physical Characteristics ==

; Height
: 5'8" (172 cm)
; Hair
: Dark brown, sun-faded at the tips; usually braided or shoved under a beanie
; Build
: Rangy, rope-and-stretcher strong; climber’s muscle, not gym-sculpted
; Eyes
: Grey-green, “storm over the hills”
; Personal Symbol
: A simple mountain peak with a narrow door cut into its side, framed by a rescue cross

'''Description:'''  
Kelly Walker is a weather-roughened woman in her early 30s, with an angular, practical face and a nose that’s clearly been broken at least once. Years of wind, rain, and cold have left a permanent hint of colour in her cheeks and fine lines at the corners of her eyes. She moves like someone who spends her life on bad footing—low centre of gravity, careful placement, always aware of edges and exits. Off-duty she still favours hard-wearing outdoor kit; even in “nice” clothes she looks like she’s two minutes from grabbing a rucksack and heading uphill.

== Attributes ==

{| class="wikitable"
! Attribute !! Rank !! Points
|-
| Psyche || 2nd || 20
|-
| Strength || 2nd || 20
|-
| Endurance || 1st || 20
|-
| Warfare || Paragon || 0
|}

''Total Attribute Points: 60''

Kel is mentally tough, physically strong, and relentlessly enduring. She’s not a trained tactician or formal duelist; in a straight fight she survives by grit and adaptability rather than clever swordplay.

== Artifacts & Creatures ==

''Total Points from Artifacts & Creatures: 10''

=== Raiment of the First Walk (10 points) ===

The clothes Kel was wearing when she first travelled to the inherited estate—boots, trousers, thermal layers, and SAR jacket—have been subtly imprinted by the Grand Stair as her Warden raiment. Wherever she goes and whatever form she takes, this outfit (or its local equivalent) marks her as “on duty.”

; Powers
* '''Self-Healing [1 pt]''' – The raiment repairs rips, burns, and general damage on its own between scenes. Its “healing” also covers quiet resizing as Kel’s body changes.
* '''Resistant to Firearms (artifact) [2 pts]''' – The material is extremely tough against mundane bullets and similar projectiles.
* '''Confers Quality to Wearer: Resistant to Firearms [5 pts]''' – While worn—in any form—Kel counts as Resistant to Firearms. Gunfire is still dangerous, but she’s notably harder to drop than an unarmoured human.
* '''Unconventional Ability (Significant): Adaptive Warden Raiment [2 pts]''' – The raiment always restructures and restyles itself to:
** Fit Kel’s current body (humanoid, animal, monstrous, energy, etc.) without hindering movement or Shape Shifting.
** Match local cultural norms as practical field / emergency / working gear for that form.
** In non-humanoid forms, manifest as appropriate gear (collar, harness, barding, plates, subtle markings) in the same colour scheme.  
: To beings who understand such things, it is clearly recognizable as Warden raiment.

== Domains ==

''Total Points from Domains: 0''  
Kel currently holds no formal Domains.

== Powers ==

* '''Shape Shifting – 35 points'''  
Kel has deep, precise control over her own body. She adapts herself anatomically to hostile environments (extra lungs, altered musculature, protective skin), and can take on animal or monstrous forms when needed. Her style is pragmatic and anatomical rather than flashy: she builds the body she needs for the job.

* '''Warden of the Grand Stair – 10 points'''  
The Grand Stair recognizes her as one of its Wardens, inheriting a slice of responsibility from the previous Warden tied to her bloodline. Kel can:
** Sense dangerous or damaged Doors and “wrong” passages on the Stair.
** Open and close Doors more easily than a normal Walker.
** Invoke limited “official” authority in places that respect Wardenship.

''Total Power Points: 45''

== Allies ==

* Other PCs as co-heirs to the estate.

''Formal Ally Points: 0''

== Stuff ==

* Good Stuff: 5
* Bad Stuff: 0

== Build Summary ==

* Attributes: 60 points  
* Powers: 45 points  
* Artifacts: 10 points  
* Domains: 0 points  
* Stuff: 0 points  

''Total: 115 points''

== Backstory ==

Kelly Walker grew up on the wrong side of a tired northern town, where money was tight and futures were small. Her family knew, in a half-sour, half-mythic way, that somewhere out there were “the rich relatives” — the Harrowe line, with their big house and old portraits. They also knew those people didn’t come calling when the rent was due, so Kel learned early not to waste energy wanting what she’d never see.

Her escape was the hills.

At first it was just walking, then longer hikes, then scrambles, then proper climbs. The world narrowed to rock, sky, and where she put her hands and feet. Out there the rules were clean: respect the place or it killed you. No arguments, no spin. For someone who grew up with bills, temp work, and unreliable adults, that honesty was addictive.

By sixteen she was a regular with the local climbing lot. By twenty she was on mountain-rescue callouts: red jackets, radios squawking, slogging uphill in the dark and rain because somebody in trainers had decided the weather “didn’t look that bad.” She hauled drunk stag parties off ridges, serious climbers off bad pitches, and day-trippers out of gullies that weren’t on their tourist maps. Humans or dogs or sheep, it didn’t matter; if it was alive and in trouble on the hill, she went.

The job never really stopped. Nights, weekends, holidays—people don’t time their disasters for convenience. Kel trained as a paramedic because carrying people down wasn’t enough; too many died in the back of the Land Rover. She learned to intubate in freezing wind, patch fractures in sideways hail, and spot the grey look that meant hypothermia was about to turn fatal.

Strange things happened at the edges of that life, the sort of oddities you don’t put on incident reports. A farm gate she could swear had hung the other way round last week. A path that felt wrong one night, like stepping onto it would mean never coming back, only to be completely normal in daylight. Once, during a whiteout search, her headtorch beam caught the shape of steps gouged into the side of the fell, going up and down into nothing. When the cloud lifted, there was only rock.

She wrote it all off as tiredness and adrenaline. You can’t do her job and indulge every weird feeling.

The inheritance letter looked like a scam: heavy paper, old crest, a solicitor’s name she’d never heard, inviting her to attend the reading of a will at an estate she’d only ever heard her mum mutter about. Seeing her mother’s face shut down at the name of the deceased—Isolde Llywelyn—was what convinced her it was real. Travel paid, room and board covered, a chance to see how the other half lived and get a week off the radios? Hard to say no.

The other heirs arrived with suitcases and decent shoes. Kel came in beat-up boots, weatherproof trousers, thermal layers, and her SAR jacket, her single duffel dumped unceremoniously in a guest room that smelled of dust and furniture polish.

The first time she opens a Door—and what waits on the other side—will be determined soon. For now, Kel is the tired, capable cousin from the poor branch: the one who’s spent her life walking into bad places to bring people out, with no idea that the universe is about to offer her a much bigger wilderness to look after.
```