Averius

Information

Player: Brutalskars

Character Full Name: Averius Bloodstrike

Character In-Game Name: Averius

Nickname(s): N/A

Association(s): SIlvermoon

Race: Blood Elf

Class: Rogue

Age: 137

Sex: Male

Hair: Black

Eyes: Green, glowing

Weight: 193 lbs

Height: 6'1"

Appearance

Dark leather combat gear or the occasional loose clothing in the quiet, and dark.

Other: His face is horribly scarred, he wears a metal mask to conceal his wounds.

Personality

A vicious elf with a horrible mindset. He believes most of his species is a bunch of dim wits. This is because of the happenings of the Scourge Assault when they failed so miserably to defend their own city and the Sun Well. He suffers from horrible night terrors that drive him into angry flashes of horror and self hate. Sometimes he can be caught hurting himself on accident because he is not paying attention, personal drive can do that to a person.

History

Raised from a young age with a massive amount of racial pride and a sense of honor the High Elves stood for. But this security and self righteousness would not be able to save their kind or Averius for long.

As he trained to be a ranger for most of his entire life he was ready for battle. The forces of Arthas' scourge were marching upon the lands of Quel'thalas. Averius was assigned to a forward flanking group during the war. Quickly though his dreams of glory and power ended.

In his first battle against the Scourge a ghoul leaped on him and clawed his face several times leaving horrible long mutilated scars. He hardly fought back while screaming in pain, his friend Lethanius saved him, only to be cut down as the elves retreated.

He was out of commission as the battles continued, still recovery from his horrible wounds. Then he was hidden by a magister as the Scourge pushed through the city to the Sun Well. He was still struck with a horrible about on anger and fear.

These events drove him to a psychological extreme, he became cynical and brooding, believing his scars were a sign of failure. From then on he wore a metal mask to cover his shame, and he considered it his new face. For it is everything he wasn't then, unable to be broken. The ultimate poker face is what he wanted, unable to be bent and torn by emotional conflicts that got him nearly killed in the past.

He dropped none of his ranger training, he instead embraced certain parts. The quiet, the shadows, the ability to observe without needing to see. He believed with these skills he could go without another horrendous defeat, especially to a lesser scourge.

He looked at most of his own race as in decline and unable to pull themselves together. He saw them as a broken society of becoming idiots, drowning themselves with pleasure. Pleasure is for the weak, we have a war to win, we have lives to rebuild and a society that must be recovered before it crumbles into a pile of troll-feed. We must persevere and harden ourselves for the days to come.