Morwyn mac Tíre

Wandering Moon-Touched Sorceress

RPG/Campaign: The Southern Seven (Homebrew D&D 5e Variant)

Morwyn mac Tíre is a wanderer in the wild-places between the cities of Zelucellia. She is a standoffish and solitary woman, driven by strange dreams and the enigmatic magics of the moons, and preferring her own company to so-called civilized people who are ever quick to reject her feral nature.

Her full backstory lies below.

Collected Morwynisms: A list of the odd terms she has used, along with any known meanings or references that may explain them.

The Southern Seven

• Hunting the Hunters: Morwyn joins a band of adventurers facing otherworldly foes in a burning farmstead, including a face seen in her dreams.
• Wayward Youths: Trouble flares on the return to Brolko as bandits arrive in town, armed and hellraising.
• Desert Fires: The band follows a trail of banditry and curses east, and Morwyn finds something that stirs old and hateful rage.
• Eyes in the Storm: Violence erupts, old loves are renewed and secrets are found beneath the earth.
• Blood and Gifts: The aftermath and consequences of violence must be dealth with, and kindness can cut like thorns.
• Children of the Blood: Departure from Brolko brings new acquaintance and an encounter with a possible future at the end of a bloody path.
• Death, Birth & Change: The pack faces down a terrifying werebeast, memories are stirred and a life is both ended and reborn.
• Sins Past & Present: The aftermath of battle with Didel, and an ascent up a mountain brings unexpected changes.

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Memories of Silver

Her first memory was of light. The glorious and all-consuming silver of the moons shone down on her in a soothing embrace of cold radiance. She remembers the presence of words but not their meaning. Only that they were kind and melodic and beautiful. She still hears echoes of them in her dreams and on nights when the moons shines full down on the world and bathes everything in the invigorating radiance of silver light.

She ran wild and free after that, lost and exultant in instinct and the purity of simply existing. Time had no meaning for her. All that mattered was the hunt and the wild woods, the whirl of the seasons and the shining grace of the moons and stars.

Gentle fate and the whispers of her dreams drew her to the old shrine. It was a ruin of slender stone arches consumed by the forest, and in its heart lay a pool that shone with the reflected moonlight of untold nights. She had avoided the shrine before but found herself drawn to it on that brilliant night and crept so close to peer into the pool that she saw her own face for the first time. A voice whispered her name and with it came a blending of realisation and deep joy beyond words. This was her face, she was Morwyn mac Tíre. 

Lost in that moment of self-realisation, Morwyn did not at first realise that she was not alone. The shrine had a keeper, a kind-souled woman named Elenwe, who told Morwyn in gentle and musical words of her own dreams of a wild woman touched by the moons who would find herself that night. They talked all through the night and, though Morwyn’s words were rough and her questions manyfold, Elenwe’s gentleness soothed her fears into silence. Morwyn slipped away with the first light of dawn but returned that night and many more hence, learning something new each time she did so. 

Following Dreams

Seasons passed like water through open fingers as she learned. Some things came easily, like the secret words to invoke the moonborne Weave within her or the artistry of etching wood and bone with her nimble claws. Yet other lessons stirred up jagged images that scarred her dreams and left her sleepless for days – dusty, airless rooms filled with towering shelves of books, the susurrus of quill on parchment, an endless repetition of voices, the stink of ink and pain and obedience. Worst was the dream of a face that was not her own looking back at her, any thought of sleep driven from her by the intensity of her revulsion and disgust at its sad, soul-broken eyes.

In time she began to travel further afield from the shrine, driven by dream and whim to further places. A dream of petals falling from a starlit sky took her away for a season until she found them in a meteor shower seen from a rocky peak. She gifted Elenwe with an etching of the sight as an apology for the absence, but in truth she felt that she could not stay much longer at the shrine. She itched to see more of the world and so began to travel. She returns to the shrine when she can, to spin new tales for her friend and hear her wisdom on what dreams she has found, but the world is vast and the gaps between visits may be long. 

Her travels are guided by her dreams or that whim to see the world, rarely staying long in one place to avoid the stress of too many people or drawing unpleasant attention due to her otherness. She has found a few places worth returning to and some people who she enjoys the company of, often those on the fringes of society or otherwise outside the shackles of social structures.