A L A R I C - K O E N I G S M A N N
Details
Full Name: Alaric Koenigsmann
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Age: 23
Height: 5'11
Weight: 147 lbs
Birthdate: 14 Ash 4599
Birthplace: Essen
Profession: Argent (Investigator)
Housing: Apartment in Melitene
Partners: Wouldn't you like to know?
Titles: Understudy
Factions: The Pact, The Covenant
Fluencies: Common, Common Sign
Conversationals: None
Ineptitudes: None
Appearance
Flawless. Alaric is a work of art, all natural imperfections in his form ironed out by Cohesion. Devoid of blemish, looking at him in any detail feels more like looking at a sculpture than a living being. Despite this, it wouldn't be inaccurate to call him 'average'; while he does not naturally blend into a crowd, nor are his features overwhelmingly unique. He stands at an average height with an average build, musculature a far cry from that of a warrior's. Arguably his most identifying feature is the streak of white that runs through his hair — he refuses to explain whether it's natural or otherwise.
In matters of fashion, the mage practically always dresses to catch the eye. He aims to stand out in all the right ways, working on his appearance on a level that slips into full-blown vanity. The clothes make the man, as they say.
Extras
Alaric's Mark of Baptism like many others, is an eye-sized crescent moon on his forehead, with its horns pointed upwards. He frequently covers this up with a jewel accessory, more as a stylistic choice than anything else. Granted by his mother, Idalia.
Alaric's Mark of Resonance wraps around his throat, music made manifest in dark lines. Starting to the left of his vocal cords, it runs round the back of his neck to reach the right. Granted by his father, Casimir.
Personality
Alaric is a man heavily moulded by the organisation he works for, their customs and desires ingrained deeply into his psyche. He is a man of calculation, doing precisely what he means to and nothing more. Perfection is what he lives and breathes and pursues in all things, refusing to settle for less.
A lifetime of studying Glamourie has stunted Alaric's ability to truly connect with other people. Every relationship, no matter how intimate, will never truly tangle his heart; with a simple click of his fingers, he could sever a lifelong friendship and never think twice. It is incredibly lonely. His hollow heart gives him a need for companionship that teeters into addiction: he delights in playing the game, in getting close to others to see if a bond can be as deep for him as it is for them. For all the damage it has done to him, it has made the mage rather talented at drawing out what he wants from people, committing to a relationship with all the passion it would have were it real — as long as it remains convenient, that is.
His identity has wrapped around the Covenant's ideals like ivy round a tree; inseparable. The great game it plays has entangled his mind to such an extend that doing something without the thought of personal gain is a genuine struggle. Even still, fragments of Alaric have managed to branch away from this core pillar of his. Music — be it a natural interest or one spurred on by his Mark — is one his few interests not tangled up in politics and scheming, a passion he enjoys for the sake of enjoying it. Likewise, he possesses a genuine respect for healers, one extending past any bid for power. Whether they are remnants of a simpler time, or a sign of change to come, remains to be seen.
History
To certain people, magic itself is a form of nobility — a form of a higher nature than some scrap of paper or a weightless word tacked onto a name, one that proves the worth of one who would inherit it. A trial by fire, one that conquers or is conquered. Succeed or die. The in-betweens are fates potentially even worse than an end.
Idalia Koenigsmann was an ambitious woman. Malcontent with her lot as a member of the Savants, she fell in love with an Argent, and shed her commoner's name of Feld. Malcontent with her lot as the wife of a Chevalier of Lorien, she had a religious calling, and prostrated herself in the holy halls of the Pact.
Regis von Graditz was a patient man. Great oaks could not simply be forced to entwine in each other's branches; they had to be coaxed. The Covenant; the collection of the arcane elite, a sprawling network that bolstered and fed upon its mages in turn. The Pact; the black sheep of Lorien's Omen, scholars and servants of the Lectors alike.
Two great oaks, already close to touching. The Covenant had been in the everwinter grounds of the Pact for decades, and both groups had their affairs firmly set in the realm of magic. Why not, then, attempt to bring the two closer than ever before? Such was the reasoning by which von Graditz approached Idalia with the simple offer of expanding her allegiances.
All the power of the Pact and the Covenant combined. Idalia would have been a fool to have not played along with his game.
It was in this environment, this twinning of studious religion and cautious nobility, that Alaric was born. Not to Regis, gods no, but to some other Covenant mage, Casimir, who was barely part of his life. Perhaps she truly wanted their tryst to become something more, or perhaps it was simply a play for leverage. Regardless, leverage was all it blossomed into.
Out of love, or out of ambition, Alaric's mother weaned him on the principles of her newfound place in the world, raising him less as a babe and almost like a political student. Perhaps once, his love for her was genuine and pure, but soon became tangled. Now, each of them understands how quickly the other could leave, but continue the perfect motions nonetheless.
Before he was too old to fight back, Idalia drowned her son to death. She didn't manage to kill him, of course — or should that be Alaric managed to survive? — and neither did she want to. Magic was a trial by fire, after all. To even set one foot upon the path would mean to court death.
Idalia intended on giving her child the biggest push she could possible muster. When Alaric was old enough to be called a man, she burned away the last of her hold over Casimir, all so he could break his bones with a song.
And that was all she had to give. Or perhaps, that was all she was willing to give. With a perfect face he barely recognised in the mirror, Alaric took to the wider world, as his own man.
