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Player: Xemnasking

Character Full Name: Durion Nightblade

Character In-Game Name: Durion

Nickname(s): None, as of yet.

Association(s): Darnassus

Race: Night Elf

Class: Rogue

Age: 753

Sex: Male

Hair: Dark blue, cleanly running down his back, and park stopping just at his shoulders.

Eyes: Silver

Weight: 250.

Height: 7'4

Other: He also has a throwing star.

Alignment: Neutral-Good


The armor that he wears when he is in the shadows, is black leather, blue at the ends, with two thin, sharp swords. His armor that he uses for more open combat, is black, ornamented with gold, and he carries two dark etched swords.


He is a bit solemn, and keeps to him self around those he either does not know, or does not trust. He is quick, and cunning, and will try to eliminate anything that would do harm to either him or nature as fast and effectively as possible. If one was to try and describe him with one word, they would probably be on the fence between melancholy and introspective. He has a tendency to spend more time outside when, or where, it is dark or raining. He doesn't talk much in common, most likely because he doesn't speak it very well, or just because he is quiet. He wasn't always like this though, he used to be outspoken. But after the Third War, and the return of the Burning Legion, it's like he has faded, become worn. Although, when compared, he will talk much more in Darnassian. And in common, he will usually stutter.


Durion was born in Ashenvale, with silver eyes. His father was an Aquatic Druid, and Durion developed a love for the rain accordingly; due to his father teaching him that water was the source of all life. But, even though his father was a druid, and his mother was a lesser sentinel, Durion was born with -no- druidic talent. As he got older, and more independent, he was trained in militia. Being trained to fight like a sentinel, but not actually being allowed to join them. He spent the majority of his life in Ashenvale, being taught different fighting styles, and how to use different weapons. He was taught how to fight when he could not see, by adapting his other senses, although he could never grasp that one too well, he was better when he had -some- visibility. But his most used attribute was speed, he didn't rely on brute force so much as he was fast and effective, usually striking where was most deadly as fast as he could. Stealth was also one of his skills, "silence is deadly" is the phrase that would stick in his mind during training.

Time passed... And whispers among the people of Ashenvale began to ring, that there were beings that had landed on ships in the south. Large, green, muscular men. Durion would sometimes watch the battles between Orcs and the sentinels. He even killed an Orc, though it was very difficult. The Orcs rampaged forth, and corrupted the forests. And then, the Third War. Though Durion was not a sentinel, he still helped to fight the demons and undead that came.

He rushed through Ashenvale, cutting down whatever was in his path, when he stumbled across a man leaning against a tree. He stopped, and, upon further inspection, the man was his father. "Father, father are you all right?" Durion asked. But there was silence, his father was dead, a massive fel-fire burn on his side, and his arm practically torn from him. Just to make sure, Durion grabbed his hand, it was cold. Durion began to hyper-ventilate, and screamed out. Tears filling his silver eyes, he grabbed his sword, and rushed towards the main battle. and saw his mother fall to a fel-guard. The fel-guard axe cutting her almost in half. At this point, he was overtaken by fear, and froze. As he was dazing off in dis-belief, a Fel-hound jumped on him. He immediately snapped back to reality, and held the fel-hound back, when suddenly, it froze, and he fell unconscious. He awoke in a sentinel base. One of the sentinels had dragged him away from the battle, after shooting the fel-hound with an arrow. She saved his life.

He lost his parents during the war, along with his immortality. Demons and Satyrs now resided in Ashenvale. He despises the Burning Legion, and never forgiven the Orcs, for corrupting their lands. After his home was near-to destroyed, he made an oath to become stronger, to fight the Burning Legion as much as he can. Though, despite this, he was saddened. His home was gone, he had not much left, just his sword. He became more quiet, introspective. He has began learning the common tongue, and while he is a bit rough around the edges, he is progressing well.