Thaddeus Morwyn was a quiet storm of a man—measured, composed, and precise in all things. Standing at 5 feet 9 inches and weighing around 150 pounds, he bore the wiry frame of someone whose strength came not from muscle, but from discipline and mastery. His salt-and-pepper hair was always meticulously groomed, swept back from a furrowed brow that rarely betrayed emotion. Thaddeus spoke little, but when he did, his words landed like thunder—calm, deliberate, and impossible to ignore.
When he first encountered young Azrael, just ten years old and brimming with raw potential, something stirred in Thaddeus that few had ever seen: tenderness. Though he remained stoic to others, with Azrael he showed a rare and measured warmth. He became not only a mentor but a guardian—teaching the boy to wield magic with respect, restraint, and cunning.
A master of dark magics, Thaddeus was unflinching in his command of the shadowed arts. He understood the cost of power and made sure Azrael understood it too. His sprawling, arcane-filled mansion served as both home and school—a place where secrets whispered through candle smoke and ancient books trembled with forbidden knowledge.
When Thaddeus passed—his death as silent and dignified as his life—he left everything to Azrael: the mansion, the tomes, the enchanted relics, and the legacy of the Morwyn name. In doing so, he passed the torch of his dark wisdom to the only soul he ever trusted to carry it forward.