Profile of Alastor

Alastor [Greek] :
spirit of revenge ♦ tormentor

Watchful crimson eyes. A sick smile that spreads across his dark muzzle. A coat like spider webs, steel gray and onyx.

A demon in the flesh.

Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.

♦ Sadistic
♦ Calculating
♦ Appears good-natured to strangers
♦ Narcissistic
♦ Vengeful
♦ Unpredictable
♦ Relentless
♦ Loyal
♦ Hedonistic

He is unafraid to take what he wants, and he is a creature unaccustomed to consequences.
At first glance, he may appear friendly, if not for the unnerving smile that he wears and the cruelty lurking behind red eyes.
He is highly opportunistic. He can provide a wolf their heart's desire... But for a price. Always for a price.

"I hear the voices of those who fell victim to my scourge.
It is not the wails and cries that pain me,
it is the fact I cannot be sated further!"

Alastor is a man who has used the prestige of his family name to his benefit. Born in Rionna to a highly influential lawyer and his wife alongside one brother, he never wanted for anything. Consequences simply didn't exist in his young life. From a young age, his ambitions were clear: he would be a soldier, one that Rionnach had never seen before. His loathing for Highlanders has been lifelong and profound, influencing decisions that would wreck the lives of others. Alastor trained throughout his youth and adulthood in preparation for inevitable war between north and south. The untimely passing of his mother, coupled with the birth of his sister Sienna, were the only events in his history to truly impact him and his emotions, and he swore to always protect his youngest sibling. To this day, he is loyal only to his family and to the Crown.

While the army consumes much of his time, Alastor is still a man. In the shadows, he took a mistress: a Highlander courtesan who worked at a brothel, the Dancing Dryad, in the north of the Mainlands, far from the army Barracks. She would give birth to a single child, an illegitimate daughter she called Tauriel after the forests of Perth. The infant was proof that Alastor had been with one of them, an enemy, to have a lowly bastard. If others knew, his family or his superiors, it would be a disaster that he had to prevent. A quiet deal behind closed doors should have ended both mother and child, but instead, his mistress still lived and the child vanished. Bastien had failed to uphold his side of the bargain. Alastor disposed of the woman himself, but the tiny pup was lost. Assuming and hopeful that the bastard child is long dead, Alastor seldom thinks of the girl.

His purpose for years has been to serve in the Imperial army. He had no interest in following in his father's paw prints to become a lawyer. The day the war began was a happy occasion for Alastor, and he threw himself into battle with terrifying gusto. Orders were clear: capture any fallen enemies as prisoners of war. But Alastor had waited too long for this moment — years of grueling training and preparation. The heavy scent of blood was sweeter than perfume, and their cries for mercy were a symphony. Alastor became an executioner on the battlefield. Their very existence was profane. They had no right to survive a war they had begun. They all deserved punishment, from the warriors to the wolves who supported them. More than a few Highlander civilians who happened to be near met a grisly fate. Those crimes could be excused, for what was war without some casualties? The Highlanders had killed some of the Imperial army’s finest and most famous fighters. Jacob’s losses were retribution for their treachery and insolence.

The final battle was decisive, the filthy Highlanders defeated. Alastor was tasked with leading prisoners of war to the dungeon where they belonged. One captive wolf possessed intel of great importance to the Imperial cause — but he also had a sharp tongue and a bitter heart. The prisoner’s insulting words enraged the beast, and in one swift movement, the Jacobite lay bloody and broken on the ground. Colonel Sylvain Bartosz was furious at Alastor’s perceived carelessness, but the dark warrior had no remorse. This same Colonel had been chosen for a promotion when he was not, and he had never forgiven the woman.

If not for his father's high position, Alastor would have been forced out of the army... Or worse. But it helps to know the right people. He had fought with all of his might. And this was the thanks he received for his loyalty and ferocity on the battlefront: An assignment to guard the make-believe border between south and north, between glory and disgrace. The newly defined, invisible line that demarcated civility from barbarism. It was a far cry from the busy streets of Rionna, cast out to a distant and desolate outpost.

Peace returned to the land, tenuous at best. Alastor loathed every moment and all that had been lost to the heathens of the north, traitors who deserved death rather than independence. But beyond the oversight of the army, new underhanded opportunities have arisen.

And when word came that his baby sister was suddenly missing, Alastor determined to bring her home, no matter the cost....