Character Profile: Alaric of Morwenne

Species: Human

Affiliation: Village of Morwenne (formerly the Bayou of Light)

Bonded Capra: Winona (Nymphacapra Variant)

Titles: The Ash-Bound Heir • The Boy of the Black Wall • The Marked of the Mire

🌑 Summary

Once known as a timid youth too frightened to lay his hand upon the Black Wall, Alaric was born beneath the smoke-stained rafters of Morwenne — a place that forgot its faith long before he could find his own. Son to Seneo, a hunter whose pride curdled into bitterness, Alaric grew beneath the weight of scorn and expectation.

His bond with Winona, a Nymphacapra from the drowned bayou, was deemed an ill omen — beauty born of tragedy. Yet the truth of his story lies not in the curse others saw, but in the grace he had yet to recognize. Through failure, anger, and repentance, Alaric becomes the vessel through which light begins to stir again in Morwenne.

🔥 Traits

• Temperament: Thoughtful, self-doubting, quietly defiant.

• Virtue: Loyalty beyond reason; courage born of remorse.

• Flaw: Mirrors the cruelty of those who wounded him before he learns its cost.

• Faith Arc: From bitterness to humility, from shame to divine awakening.

• Symbol: A handprint of soot that would not stay — replaced by the path of light.

🜄 Notable Events

• The Black Wall Dare (Age 13): Froze in fear while others pressed their marks, earning ridicule and self-loathing.

• The Ash-and-Bone Night: Returned two years later with Winona at his side, facing the whispers of the tar and the illusions of his father’s voice.

• Revelation: Found that Winona had never left him — she shielded him as he fell, proving that what he was taught growing up was untrue: that love is not a burden, that faith does not abandon, and that strength is born not from pride, but from humility.

🌾 Quotes

“Please forgive me,” Alaric whispered — though the words were not for Winona alone.

“Forgive me for the anger I’ve held, for the bitterness I’ve called strength. Forgive me for believing the lies of this place — that power must be loud, that love must wound, that mercy is weakness.

I thought my father’s voice was truth, that his scorn was the way of men. I let his words fester in me until they became my own. I cursed what You had given — this bond, this life, this breath. I called Your gifts burdens because I could not see the grace in them.

I was blind, Lord.

But now… now I see what You placed beside me. A creature of peace, who never spoke a word, yet lived every prayer I never had the courage to say. Through her, I’ve seen what I refused to learn — that true strength kneels before love, and that courage can be quiet.”

His breath trembled. The ash hissed, but something in him stilled — the anger loosening its grip like a fever breaking.

“I cannot undo what I’ve done,” he said softly, “but I can walk differently now.”