Faridus

Information

Player: Hawk

Character Full Name: Faridus Longclaw

Character In-Game Name: Faridus

Nickname(s): Longclaw, The Pale, Pale Hunter

Association(s): The Alliance, Darnassus

Race: Night Elf

Class: Demon Hunter (Rogue)

Age: 6,106

Sex: Male

Hair: Long and white.

Eyes: Scarred and hidden behind a blindfold.

Weight: 260 lbs

Height: 7'5

Appearance

Faridus wears very little armour, preferring speed and mobility to take down his enemies instead of brute strength. He's quite a tall Elf, maintaining a muscular and athletic build.

Something that Faridus can be seen doing during a battle is quietly muttering the number of lives he's taken. This strengthens his focus, his mind forgetting anything outside.

Personality

Faridus is the embodiment of "The ends justify the means". If he would have to murder one thousand Elves to protect the lives of ten thousand or risk losing them all, he would do it without hesitation. Nowadays he cares little for the war against The Horde and the Alliance, only if there is danger to his race and if he has the resources to deal with it. When there's a battle, he makes quick decisions and if there's a window of opportunity, he will always attempt to seize it. He makes it a point to try not to form a bond with people, the only exception being his brother, feeling that befriending too many people will interrupt his duty as a Demon Hunter.

History

Faridus was born and raised in Ashenvale with his brother, Eirtahl. Their father was slumbering in the Emerald Dream, leaving their mother to raise the children by herself. As the years went by and the brothers matured into men, Faridus began to grow unsettled as he watched his brother show promising signs of being a talented Druid. Faridus on the other hand wasn't as in tune with nature as he thought. But fortunately, his mother was there to support him. Although she knew others would look down on him, she was almost relieved he wouldn't become a Druid. She didn't want to be left alone whilst the rest of her family slumbered in the Emerald Dream. With whatever time she had, she would teach Faridus the art of the blade and archery.

To his delight, Faridus had managed to pick up the form quite quickly. His strikes were swift and his aim was accurate, his pride in his craft allowing him to forget the looks of disappointment given by other members of his community. His brother too was supportive, but his time on Azeroth would be halted as he too would join the other Druids and slumber in the Emerald Dream. With some parting words, Faridus bid farewell to his only friend.

Not too long after, the battlehorn was blown. Far to the south, the winds of war were sweeping across the desert of Silithis. The ancient Qiraji empire had risen once again, and the Kaldorei were preparing to take up arms against them. When the call for arms had reached every corner of Kalimdor, Faridus marched south alongside thousands of soldiers. With glaive in hand, he glanced left and right, steeling his courage. He had never stood alongside so many of his kind at once, and the only thing that Faridus had fought was his own mother during spars. Hunting in Ashenvale was no way to train against an army of insectoids. Before the horn was sounded, his mother gave him his advice: Count your kills.

He didn't quite understand what she meant, but his doubts were erased when the charge began. He yelled a warcry as the two armies clashed, glaives in hand and cutting down his foes. He began counting every Qiraji he killed, or assisted in killing. The counting had somehow increased his focus tenfold, entering a very different state of mind. Even to this day, quite a lot of the battle is just a blur of blades and black blood. As death toll grew higher, so did his morale, allowing him to overcome grevious wounds that were inflicted on him. He had performed admirably, or so he was told. He had completely lost track of his kill count, but was simply happy to be alive. He was standing bloodied in the sands, but he was alive. To his relief, as was his mother, who had only couple of scratches.

A millenia had passed. Faridus had put his glaives to the side, hoping that perhaps the time of war had come to an end. To his regret and that of all his kin, war and destruction was only a stone's throw away. The Orcs had finished their war on the Eastern Kingdoms, but a handful had come to start one of their own in Ashenvale - The Warsong Clan. He didn't know what these monsters were, but Faridus and his family were refusing to sit idle as they carved a path through Ashenvale. Even worse than Orcs invading their forests was The Third War, the Burning Legion had come again to wreak havoc to Azeroth. In the chaos, he had been reunited with Eirtahl, his brother who had at long last awakened from his slumber in the dream when he was told Azeroth was in peril. Yet, what was disturbing was that he had returned alone.

Eirtahl confessed that his father had slaughtered in the Barrow Dens by a party of Orcs. By the time he arrived at the den, there was no one to speak of the crime but the mutilated corpses on the floor. This only served to kindle Faridus' anger at the Orcs, but with their ancient enemy on the horizon, he was being forced to fight alongside them. At least... until the battle was over. On the slopes of Mount Hyjal, the Longclaw trio slaughtered any demon that dared to cross them, fueled by rage and hatred. The only thing that stopped them in the end was their immortality being stripped from them, at the price of destroying Archimonde and ending the battle.

As Faridus looked across the devastation and the thousands of lives that had been claimed, he felt anger swell up inside him like he had never felt before. That was the last day Faridus would never lay eyes on his family for many, many years. In secret he scoured the world, searching for a Demon Hunter that could teach him their ways. He risked his life many times by slaying demons in heavily populated areas. He was eventually found half dead, but still standing, clenching onto blades drenched in the blood of demons with ragged breathing. The Hunter had realised this was a familiar sight. Indeed, he had discovered his own tutor in a way similar to this.

After Faridus was hydrated and fed, it didn't take very long to see that he was a worthy candidate. He could see the burning hatred in his eyes. Eyes that he foresaw would eventually become hidden behind a black blindfold. Faridus was pushed to his limits, falling onto the verge of death on numerous occasion, but powering through each time. He carved out his own eyes with a knife used to slay a Felhunter, endured the agony of his demonic tattoos, mastered the art of stealth and perfected his glaive wielding. Soon, he was able to go out into the world on his own. It was no longer the same it was before, but he would perform his duty to it nonetheless.

There was no shortage of prey, either. From the realm of Outland to the wastelands of Northrend, he played his part in whatever war he could. He returned from Northrend only to see that Azeroth had suffered the wrath of Deathwing. The Shattering had begun, and Faridus faces an entirely new enemy.

Skills and Abilities

Spectral Sight: Demons, undead and those who have been exposed to Fel are able to be seen, easy to discover even with a disguise. However, those who aren't magical are difficult to see, but not impossible so long as light is shining off of them. His cursed sight allows him to see in all directions.

Immolate: Faridus can cause the area around him in a 5 yard radius to ignite in a mass of Felfire.

Mana Burn: Faridus can turn a caster's mana against them, burning them internally.

Soul Drain: The essence of a Demon can be drained and used to replenish Faridus' strength and health.

Tainted Fireball: A felfire ball can be conjured and launched at an opponent. This also allows Faridus to see the target with greater clarity if they are non-magical.

Agile: Faridus is stealthy, swift and very agile. He uses these to his advantage in a fight, or in most cases for an ambush.