Shilfarus

Information

Player: Sheppard, AKA Shep

Character Full Name: Shilfarus Lhef'Irh

Character In-Game Name: Shilfarus

Nickname(s): Shilfer (Shortage), Shilfarus The Swift (War Title - Abandoned), Sergeant (Ex Rank - Scryers)

Association(s): Silvermoon (Present), Scryers (Ex), Illidan's Forces (Ex)

Race: Sin'dorei

Class: Spell Breaker (Ex), Mage (OOC Class)

Age: One-hundred and ninety-six years old.

Sex: Male

Hair: Long, rich red hair that he usually ties up in a foxtail.

Eyes: Flaring Green

Weight: One-hundred and fifty-five pounds.

Height: Five feet and nine inches tall.

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Appearance

He loves the feeling of tight silk on his skin when in casual attire. However, back in the days before his retirement, he wore, and came to like wearing the uniform that was ensued to spell breakers. Even though he no longer service as one after his permanent withdrawal, his battle armor represents most features of one, such as the light shoulder plates and fiery-colored robes. He doesn't, however, use the two-bladed sword any longer; his incapability forced him to use wands and staves instead, to his chagrin.

Other: He bares a large scar, shaped in the form of a bright star, just below the shoulder blades and covering most of his back down to the hips. Because of the damage that was caused to his spine, he is crippled in a way that makes constant flexible movements a painful experience. If he over-works his back, the joints will finally tighten shut without warning, leaving Shilfarus in an immobile, agonized state.

Personality

Shilfarus is a true strategist; his incisive mind has been trained throughout the ages to be merciless and rational in the times he had served under The Betrayer's banner. His words are like that of a one sided-blade; blunt in the way he speaks, but sharp and swift in the way he uses them. A man of jaded principles, be be hard to converse with when ideals collide. Not known for his flexibility nor a long curiosity-span either, he has the tendency to cut people off mid-sentence, telling them one excuse or the other simply so he can make his leave, should the conversation bore or annoy him. Also a very sly individual, Shilfarus knows his way around law well in sin'dorei society; his past has left him with enough people in debt to him—he reaps what he soils, all too gladly.

Proud and arrogant, Shilfarus carries himself with an air of superiority and composure. He is, however, quite the charmer when in the presence of women and is known to have quite the 'appetite'. Nevertheless, the untold incident of two years ago which left him scarred both psychologically and physically, took a large toll on his mental state; he usually drinks himself into a stupor when alone, and has his moments of uncontrolled anger and depressions that can flare up with little if no warning at all, making him unpredictable. Shilfarus also hates his incapability with a deep passion; when alone to his thoughts, he's usually heard muttering dark curses in Thalassian about a certain 'revenge' he is willing to commit on the one responsible for his handicapped state.

Even against popular believes, Shilfarus does enjoy being in company of other people. His witty mind craves for a good debate and his proud attitude forces him to show others what he is made of. He hardly speaks of his personal life though; the incident of two years ago made him paranoia from time to time, and hardly trust-worthy in turn in regards of his judgmental prejudice. Shilfarus dislikes other races in general, but has been known to work with other outside his kind before without much banter back in the days he served the Scryers. He carries a high grudge against the draenei however, and would vocally assault most of them on sight (if the settings allow him to), if not take it a step further should he be provoked—which, isn't hard at all.

History

Childhood of the Lonesome

In times of peace for his kind, Shilfarus was born in the capital city of what were still the quel'dorei back all those years ago before war was brought to their lands. His parents, who both held tight schedules, were hardly at home to raise him in the time of his childhood; he carried more love for the maidens than he did for his father or mother in the time they raised him. The day his father was honourably discharged from the elven militia because of an incident however, he tried his hardest to strengthen his bond with his son, and make up for lost time. Shilfarus, who had been too young to grasp the concept of bitter resentment, gladly spend his time with his crippled father whenever he could. When he asked his father why he didn't need to go to work any longer, he was met with an unpleasant silence, followed soon with a stiff “that is a story for another time,” each time he asked.

The truth was that his father had led a small group outside the city's walls, scouting, when they were ambushed by maddened dragonhawks. The poor creatures were dazed into a wrathful stupor, and attacked anyone on sight after they had been assaulted by murlocs at shore. He ordered his man to subdue the mighty beasts, but after he—the leader of the small platoon—got heavily injured by one of the massive wings these creatures carried, his men went over to put an end to the whole small family of dragonhawks on a whim. Angered by the lack of creativity of his men, and not to forget they ignored order he had issued, he left the scene, battered and bitter. He hardly got far though; the bones in his left leg had been crushed and shattered on impact from the powerful blow. His men found him soon after, and carried him back through the gates of the city, where later would be learned he would always carry a limp from that day forth, making him unfit to serve the militia for any longer.

Tension Rising

His mother stayed away for many years to come, and his father hardly spoke of her in the time he spent with his son. When she did return, Shilfarus was nearing the age he too could follow in his father's footsteps and join the militia. But the intense air that his mother carried made him stop with wonder; she was a strong woman who had her ways with words all too easily. Her pride and arrogance was near outstanding as well, and she always seemed to be one step ahead of anyone else she interacted with. But what truly captivated Shilfarus, was the fact she was a skilled magister. At first, he looked up to her, but her personality collided with his (who clearly had his self-esteem from her), and he soon turned to resent her. As if to make a point, he enrolled to learn the ways of the arcane instead, hoping to achieve an even greater power than that of his mother's.

Even if he was a bright student, his learning to the practices went agonizing slow compared to most in his class. He knew his way with words however, and had no problem on the social level amongst his fellow peers, even if his skills in magic lacked. Shilfarus did, however, better in expertise eventually because of his hard working and motivated principles than most who shared his year. His skills finally exalted in the school of abjuration and specialized himself in turning a magister's greatest power against themselves. Finally, other classes began to bore him as he reveled in his arrogance, and finally left the academy before he had claimed the title of arcanist, leaving for home.

In all the years he had worked hard to obtain these new powers, he still longed to follow his father career into the elven militia, and finally did so. His knowledge in the magic schools gave him an extra edge where others lacked, but did not make up for his lack of bodily strength. He had to train hard to keep up with the rest, which led him to a more isolated life; his will merely focused on keeping up with the others, and show them just what he was made of. His father shared his concerns on his change of behavior, but he stayed nonchalant to his warnings; pride forcing him to carry on with this lifestyle. His mother cared little for her son's progress, and stayed away most of the time to unknown businesses; hardly even sharing words with Shilfarus when they met eye to eye.

Cut Through the Heart

Without warning, his mother left them both for another man; telling them she was disappointed in both their failures, and couldn't life with the shame any longer. His father was devastated by his wife's loss, but Shilfarus simply got angered at her mocking words, and finally hated her with a deep passion. He cared little that she had left, but it hurt him deeply to see his father in the state he was in because of her. His hatred motivated him into a determined state of train-aholic to achieve great skills in swordsmanship so he could make his father proud; hoping it would take his mind away from that wretched woman for good. Finally, he had finished his training, and learned how to combine both his knowledge on abjuration magic, and his skills in the two-handed blade. When he came home after years of training however, he was met with a mind-numbing sight.

His father was merely a shell of the proud man he knew all too well; a shade of depression and woe. Shilfarus tried his hardest to get the man back on his own two feet, but it was a wasted effort; his father had given up, and was now waiting to die in solitude. His prayers were answered when the Scourge finally broke down the elven gates, when they murdered his father who was alone at home in cold blood. Shilfarus fought many animated corpses to get back and safe his father, but when he saw the house burn down to the ground, he knew enough. He fled the wreckage that was once a proud city of the quel'dorei, and took refuge outside the borders of Quel'Thalas, where he took it on himself to defend what was left of their numbers. Like everyone else, he too felt the pulling urge inside him boil up, making him weak with each passing day with the lack of presence of the Sunwell.

Skirmish to the South

Their prince returned to them as if hearing their prayers for salvation, naming them ‘sin'dorei' in the name of the fallen, and turned to get together a small army to follow him on a skirmish against the Scourge, which Shilfarus joined all too happily; he needed the distraction after all, and it was a good way to test what he had learned. Then, he was enlisted as one of the few spell breakers and a large amount of the healthier warriors, who were to escort their prince to Lordaeron. There, they met up with much resistance from both the racist humans and undying Scourge, and finally, after continuously proving their loyalty through blood-stained efforts (even if accepting the help of the naga), they were sentenced to death by the Alliance. In the cells deep below ground, he remained stoic and emotionless; keeping to himself. He accepted his fate, and was then waiting for the time he could finally join his father again in the after life. Nothing of such sorts happened, as they were rescued by the naga and brought to the ravage lands of Outland through the portal they had created.

Shilfarus had a hard time coping with his new surroundings and ‘brothers in arms' who were now not only members of the elven race, but demons as well. He might have been cold for sin'dorei standards, but compared to demons' standards, he might as well have been a saint. Stripped off his former rank, he was forced to undergo the harsh training all warriors had to undertake to enroll more smoothly under The Betrayer's banner. His pride made him rebel at first, but was soon crushed beneath the cruel discipline of the demons that drilled him into submission. In turn, he too became heartless and more calculative as he learned; finally becoming a ‘monster' himself when morals came into question. He became ruthless in his fighting, and became known for his quick kills; earning him the war title ‘Shilfarus The Swift'.

Then, the faithful day came they were to assault Shattrath City, serving the old sin'dorei seer as a sergeant, leading a small platoon. When they arrived however, he was as shocked to learn of the news they were to come and join forces with the naaru and his followers instead. When the defenses of the city finally lined up, he, with all the others, lay down their weapon, though he was one of the few who did it bitterly. He had come to fight after all, and the sudden defection came like a slap to the face; leaving him hurting and confused. When he came to notice of the plans their prince was willing to commit, he finally accepted being one of the Scryers.

Stabs to the Back

In the service of demons, he had made many enemies amongst his fellow sin'dorei because of his manipulative ways and sly remarks. He had bullied many just as the demons had done after all, and some wanted to see justice handed down on him. When he was sent out for a simple scouting mission, did the unknown avengers take their move; when the culprit had finally strayed Shilfarus off the tracks, he struck. Oblivious to the ill intent of his subordinates who banded together against him, he followed the false directions. He did not even have the time to realize something was wrong when a large heat blast suddenly ate through his armor and skin, knocking him unconscious, back burned severely.

Presumed dead by his comrades, no one was sent out to look for him; they had given the message he had been slaughtered and eating by a large predator. It was the perfect plot; for there was no one out to search through large piles of feces in search for the bones. When Shilfarus awoke, a day after, he had been lucky the scent of his burned flesh had not attracted any willing predators, or the false information gathered at headquarters had been made real. He soon learned his spine had been damaged by the blast, and couldn't feel his legs from the waist down. Angered deeply with the realization he too had been crippled, as his father had been all those years ago, he cursed loudly, for hours on end. His dark shouts were heard however, and he was taken by a small band of mercenaries to Shattrath City to heal, for a price.

When he was finally healed by the help of the draenei priests, he too got to hear the dreadful news his father had heard before he too was honorably discharged; he was crippled for life, and would always carry his bad back with him to the grave. Shilfarus had made a scene after hearing the news as he raged; nearly breaking a few bones in the priest's chest that had given him the diagnoses on his condition. The sharp pain which shot through his back restrained him before he could execute the foul deed however, locking his spine stiff. That was the moment he came to learn real pain as he trashed and screamed in torturing agony. He was finally subdued by the shocked priests and carried off, to live a life he would hate for two years to come.

Back to Start

He returned to Silvermoon soon after, being told by his once supreme officer that he could build a new life there, perhaps get a family. Shilfarus had merely laughed wryly as he took up on the offer, knowing he would never do such a thing to begin with. Even in his crippled state, he craved for battle, and slowly, he learned his way around his handicap in some cases. He could not handle the two-handed blade any longer however, and had to turn to carry smaller daggers and wands as fighting equipment instead. He truly missed the agile form of swordplay the twin-bladed sword gave him, and he kept cursing his luck, over and over again, as he learned to handle his shortcomings in battle. He now instructs the green recruits of the Blood Knights whenever he can; though his reasons are not as selfless as it seems...