Elend

Information

Player: Ozewse

Character Full Name: Elend Lightborne

Character In-Game Name: Elend

Nickname(s): None.

Association(s): Tranquilien, Silvermoon

Race: Blood Elf

Class: Shadowmage

Age: 502 Years.

Sex: Male

Hair: Raven Black

Eyes: Fel-fire green.

Weight: 130 lbs. (58.96 kg.)

Height: 6'3

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: Black netherweave tunic, black netherweave pants, black boots, and a cloth mask that covers his face from the bridge of his nose to his chest.

Other: His skin is pallid but unmarred, save chemical burns on his palms. His eyes fluctuate in brightness with his energy levels, and dim when he is sick or tired. His left ear has a noticeably large nick in it, and sometimes it will begin to twitch as a sort of tick when he is tired.

Personality

Alignment: Neutral Evil

Constantly bored. To describe his boredom is futile. He will do -anything- to entertain himself. Freedom from boredom is his main motive.

Beyond that, he cares only for himself, and those he deems allies.... Oh, and sleep. He's like a cat, always being mean or napping.

He dislikes most things. Even if he does like something, he might still say he dislikes it to stir things up.

History

Born to an elven couple, both mages, in Silvermoon. His childhood was the same as any other High Elf at the time, consisting of a little strife, and much trouble-making. He began lessons in the Arcane when he was 18, and for two centuries, he had perfected the arts of Enchanting and Transmutation. Once satisfied with his casting ability, he took on the profession of apothecary, as he saw it, a suitable profession for a master of Transmutation. Though his childhood and beyond, the troll wars had not affected him much, sheltered as he was, rarely venturing out into the woods, and never without his father to protect him.

In his mind, he felt as though his life was lacking that spark, the fire he saw in other people, the determination. He was, for lack of a better word: bored, with life and everything about it. Suicide wasn't an option, he had his parents to care for, so he went on unfeeling, tired of everything. He slowly became more and more jaded over the years, not towards anything in particular, just life in general. His only motive to study, or get out of his home, was to escape the dull boredom that enshrouded his life. More centuries went by like a hazy dream. He began to develop strange sleeping habits, picking the oddest places he could find to take a nap. Most of them dangerous, really. Such as the middle of the street, or, in one particularly strange occasion, atop a lamp post.

All was a long, arduous journey of magic and duty, dealing with his addiction to magic by learning to craft his own spells one at a time. Simple charms for things around his family home, like dishes and plates that never needed to be washed, or ramps to the upper levels of his home that moves you up and down them on command. Mostly things that would allow him more time to ... nap. He had come to love sleep, it brought that fateful day closer and closer, when his boredom would finally end. Whether it be death, or finally finding something of interest, his purpose.

It finally came in the form of a tome confiscated by his father from a traveling vagabond. He had been explicitly informed that he was not to even touch the book that radiated with some unfamiliar aura... He was intrigued by the forbidden book, and, whenever the rest of the family were out, he would sneak into his father's chambers and diffuse the wards in place on the drawer that held it. He would read from this untitled tome every chance he had, learning about these unfamiliar energies of Fel and Shadow, until one day, when he had finally turned the last page... His father burst in and found him with the book.

He was eventually disowned at his father behest, and thrown out to find his own living somewhere else, despite all he had done for the family. Warlocks were not accepted before the eyes of the High Elven Magocracy. It hurt his father's reputation unfathomably that his son had been studying such dark and evil arcana.

Elend fell into deeper and more evil magics, feeling as though he had finally found his calling, his spark. He became almost heretical in his pacts with the various imps and other minor demons he had brought into this plane with his very own blood.

He enlisted into the military when the scourge attacked, and fought until the medic of his squad literally forced him to rest with sedatives. The freedom to cause such violent destruction was a thrill he had never felt before. With each fallen human, or brother or sister elf, he grew more and more confident. It was a bloodlust, if only for the black ichor that ran in the veins of few of the scourge. That lust, coupled with his addiction to fel, proved a deadly mix for anyone or anything between he and his target.

The fall of the Sunwell, tragic though it was, hardly affected him. His eyes were green long before that. When it was reignited, he sighed a sigh of relief, not for himself, but for his people. He was never very patriotic, but he -did- care for his fellow now-Sin'dorei. They could prove useful allies...

With the war ended, he has returned to his old, bored lifestyle, and strange napping tendencies. He had lost most of his family in the war, though it hardly seemed to bother him. 'They gave up on him' after all. He lost his home, which was the worst part for him, all of the work he had put into it, wasted by the Lich King and his horde of undead monstrosities. He wanders, seeking places to sleep, and power to gain.

Skills and Abilities

Poison Identification: Identify poisons and venom by smell.

Curse of Blindness: Blinds target for a short duration using shadow magic.

Curse of Narcolepsy: Causes the target to fall asleep for a short duration, and remain asleep until something wakes them.

Curse of Gargalesis: Tickles the target into a fit of violent laughter. Channeled.