Ireth

Information

Player: Grembomb

Character Full Name: Ireth Dawnweaver

Character In-Game Name: Ireth

Nickname(s): N/A

Association(s): Farstiders (Formerly.)

Race: Sin'dorei

Class: Rogue

Age: 213

Sex: Male

Hair: Blonde

Eyes: Green

Weight: 59kg

Height: 5'10.

Appearance

A red, black and white robe with leather shoulder pads.

Other:Sometimes wears a red hood.

Personality

Ireth is fairly loyal to those he loves and trusts, but after getting into the mercenary business he has developed an eye for coin. Although not particularly liking the "trade" he is in it gets him by. Being a former Farstrider his skills come in useful when he became a mercenary then learning other such tactics such as stealth and improved swordsmanship. After he had left his homelands he had become attached to any of his kin he would see outside of the lands, actually he gets quite attached to his own kin as he feels with their numbers greatly depleted after the Scourge slaughtered them all they have to form strong bonds to stay alive. Over the years he was a blade for hire he started to develop what the others would call the mercenary "outlook" on life, including drinking quite heavily and indulging himself in the "sweeter" things his coin hard earned coin would bring him.

History

Born in Silvermoon, the jewel of Quel'thalas, to a father who was a Magister and his mother a maid of his fathers. Through early childhood he was raised in one of the villages on the outskirts of Silvermoon by his mother, his father released his mother after he found out she was pregnant with him. Growing up he was trained by the local Farstriders on how to properly wield a sword and bow, the training sessions were not as regular as he would have liked though as they who were training him rarely had time off. Although he was inspired by the tales of battles with the Trolls that were told when they visited.

Years had past and Ireth was now part of the Farstriders, he was now living them tales once told to him of clashes with these Trolls who never stopped attacking from the trees of Eversong woods. The stories were glamorous then, but not so much now that he was living them. A call one day came that there was a large number of Trolls gather in the North East regions of the woods. Ireth with the Farstiders and a couple of rangers were sent there to sent up an ambush and wait for the Trolls' arrival into the region. Sitting there up in the trees, bow in hand, arrow at the ready he waited for a glance of these tusked savages. A scream was heard from behind himself as a fellow Farstrider had been attacked. The Trolls were somehow wise to the ambush, and he was in trouble now. He jumped down from the trees, fring an arrow randomly above him as he heard a rusting in the bushes. A Troll fell down from the trees; he had hit by sheer dumb luck. His captain at that time ordered a retreat. They fell back, apparently the Trolls were using stealth tactics this time, as they had taken out half the ambush without them knowing.

After retreating back from the woods there was a big gathering back at one of the villages there was word from the woods, beyond Eversong that Trolls had help from what were now know as Orcs. Ireth was now sent back out to the front lines to repel any further attacks on the forests of Quel'thalas. Now with his marching orders he was in the midst of a battle near the edge of the woods with a band of Orcs and a few trolls, as they were to close for comfort Ireth used his sword to battle his first Orc, his elven steel blade against this Orc and his axe. The Orc was a new area of combat, shorter that the Trolls but still very strong and fought with such animosity. The Orc was strong, yes but Ireth over came him using his agility, quickly turning behind the Orc and slicing it's head off. He looked around the battle seemed to be done, then he looked into the distance, his beloved woods were burning to the ground, he couldn't believe his eyes, they had dragons, he could see one in the distance but the armies seemed to be retreating. Word had come that the Alliance had come, to little to late though as the woods had been burned and many Elves slain.

After serving for numerous years In the Farstriders, Ireth though it was time to visit his father once and for all. He took the last addresse he lived in from his mother, who didn't want him to go as it would break his heart she said. He went anyway. He stood outside the estate staring down at the piece of parchment in front of him, he glances up at the door number, he nods to himself, takes a deep breath and knocks several times on the door. A skinny Elf had opened the door, peering down at Ireth. "Yes?" Ireth looked up at him, stuttering slightly. "I...I...I'm here to see my father..Soris." The Elf widens his eyes at him, doesn't speak but just turns around and leaves him there, the door still wide open. Ireth, at this point has a huge smile on his face. A tall Elf comes to the door in flowing red and golden robes he puts his hand on the open door and chuckles, Ireth starts laughing to until the Elf stops laughing and begins shouting, snarling angrily in his face. "I knew the day would come when my bastard child would turn up on my door step, looking for a free hand out are we? Well no your nothing but a common low life scum like your ungrateful bitch of a mother." The door slams shut. Ireth's face, dropped, horrified as if he was seeing the war all over again, he would have rather took ten of them Orc beasts right now than to hear that. He turned away, dropping the parchment with the address on.

Walking through the woods, staring at the ground on his way back to his village he heard screams of terror, smoke was rising from his village. He began sprinting until he bumped into a handful of armed Elves, screaming at him. "Turn back, the Undead are attacking, they are to big in number!." His mother was in that village, he ignored the screaming Elf and continued sprinting until he was tackled to the ground, he looked up to see his old mentor in the Farstriders staring at him, he bellowed in his face. "Are you thick boy, the village is lost, retreat is necessary, don't be foolish!" He began running back to the city hoping to take up arms and fight there, nearing in on the city he hears a familiar sound, terrifying screams, he stops dead in his tracks and turns around. There was nothing he could do now apart from flee.

Years later, he found himself in a Goblin run city to the south of the Eastern Kingdoms, they called it "Booty Bay". He sat at the Inn, looking around at the scum he now worked for. This was now his life, earning quick coin by doing bounty hunting for these crooks. He had gone from a Farstider fighting along with his beloved kin to sneaking around killing criminals and scum, or so thats what they told him. He was now a mercenary, coin was all that mattered and getting by. A message had arrived for him, from his mother, she was alive. This was the best thing that had happened in years he was overjoyed at the fact she had survived. He couldn't say the same for his father though, he hoped he was dead. He would eventually make his way back to his homeland and now carrying this magic addiction he was now struggling in keeping in check.