Alaric possesses a face etched with more experience than his twenty four years should allow. His jet black hair is sheared close to the scalp in a traditional soldier cut, yet a thin, waist length braid hangs behind his left ear, bound in silver wire. He carries himself with a rigid, metronomic grace, though his hands frequently twitch as if reaching for a map. His uniform is a high collared slate grey tunic of the Iron Vanguard, impeccably pressed, yet every single merit medal has been methodically filed down to a blank, featureless disc of brass.