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A child of the Oathlands, born in Oakhaven to a pair of Keaton Trackers, Apollo might have had an idyllic childhood in the woods. But while traveling between Lyon's Redoubt and Keaton Keep when he was six, he and his parents were ambushed by bandits. His parents were killed, and he was kept; life as a bandit would have been an ironic twist for the child of peacekeepers. But other Trackers eventually found the hideout, and Apollo, recognized, was taken to Keaton Keep, where Countess Margerie took him in. Nigh silent, owlish, grieving, the genial warmth and friendships he found in Oakhaven nurtured him from near mute to merely skittish. His early artistic impulses were noticed, and connections made with local artisans; when he found tanning, he found his first love. He swiftly rose to local prominence for his craft, and Marquis Kael tapped him to come to Arx. He might have been a big fish in a small pond - but he wasn't. Apart from exceptional tradecraft, his care for his liege house, his customers, and his fellow crafters had him lending an ear, a set of armor, or assistance as often as he was taking commissions. And then more often. He became Co-Guildmaster of the Crafters Guild of Arx, a position he held for more than two years. Though often uncertain about his skillset and utility, his time bent toward diplomatic and economic work, outreach with Abandoned, and cultivation of ties between crafters, houses, and organizations for projects and mutual assistance. He took up with Whisper House, first as an associated courtier, then Apprentice Whisper, leaving House Keaton to serve as a Whisper in mid-1014 after a successful diffusion of tensions in the Oathlands. Then in 1015, in answer to his service to House Darkwater and its vassals, he was offered ennoblement. He accepted, stepping down as Guildmaster and retiring as a Whisper, though his ties to both organizations remain. In truth, though his life has changed to a vast degree, much remains. He is a maker of art and a builder of connections, and it is rare a day that passes without some of both. Now, after a brief, quiet betrothal, he's joined House Malespero as Marquis-Consort, where he'll doubtless bring those same instincts to the people of Nilanza. And where better for an orphan like himself?

He is a spare man, of middling height and weight and a lean, lanky build. He's handsome, his features pleasing in an unassuming sort of way. He might not be the brightest star in the room, but there is a charm to his features that draws eyes back to him. A thick brow and serious eyes rest under a mop of dark curls, sometimes cropped, sometimes nearly to the shoulder. His hands are large and show the signs of hard work; small scars from old knicks from sharp tools, calluses along the base of his fingers and on the pads of them as well. There is an air of distraction about him sometimes, an absent-mindedness that adds to that strange, muted charm.

Years in Arx have rounded out his ineffable charm; it settles like a certainty about his kindness. He speaks easily and willingly with almost anyone, prizing connection and conversation. Though he has moments where his glib tongue still runs off with him, a cultivated discipline has made the appearance of trouble a rarity. That's the way he likes it, avoiding ill will and violence until the last extreme.