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Thunder · #**621** (**permalink**) [ ] 02-25-2006, 09:26 PM

Name: Illdian

Age: 18

Race: Dark Elf

Gender: Male

Hair: Jet Black

Eyes: Fiery red with deep blood red irises

Skin: Ash-Grey

Height: 5' 8"

Weight: 180lbs

Personality:
His serious demeanour and few words disguise his nature as a fierce thinker, and his ability to enact sudden bursts of action that suprises both friend and foe alike. His long wandering has made a deep, enigmatic introvert out of a once normal elven child. He often dislikes travelling with others for too long and feels constrained within cities, seeking peace and solace in the wilds. His few friends are very important to him as they are the only individuals he can be truly relate to.

Appearance:
Illdian is a grey-skinned young elf whose thick, dark hair is always slicked back and up to reveal his seemingly bloodshot and pained gaze. He is a traveller, and so is encumbered by a long, hooded cloak and pack. His armour is made of flexible plate-segments fitted over auburn-coloured leather and is wrought of a strange dull-yellow metal. It covers his forearms and shoulders with his elbows exposed. Also his chestplate extends to a point just above the knees with samurai-like skirting. His greaves beneath make his thighs and midsection near impenetrable by swords/arrows. His boots are made of soft leather with plates of metal on the shins and toes. Lastly, his helmet is in the true bucket style, enclosing most of his head with spaces for his ears and a T-shaped eye slit in front. Two leather flaps going down the back of his neck make for flexibility and protection. Despite his fully armoured and clothed appearance, in true elven fashion he is quite agile and quick. He carries two weapons: a gold-bladed katana and a recurve longbow.

Weapon/Skills/Magic:

Katana: Gold bladed, 28" long with a round tsuka. It is capable of cutting through any substance with enough force. It is said that no one but Illdian could wield it.

Bow: Nicknamed 'The Harbinger' it was given to him by a Dark elf Warkhan for his aid in settling the strife between tribes.

DESTRUCTION:
He uses the Elemental destruction magics of Fire, Ice, Shock and Poison with reasonable skill but knows only basic damaging spells: weapon and armour break, weakening spells and curses.

MYSTICYSM:
He commands a knowledge of absorption and remote detection. However more advanced spells such as teleportation and spell reflection elude him

Strengths/Areas of Skill:
Considered a prodigy in freestyle swordfighting, his quick, efficient style aims for either a quick disablement or a quick death. Archery came to him naturally and he honed his skill within the winding pathways of his homeland forests and mountains. He is also agile and quick and often jumps to escape, surmount boundaries and to best opponents. His agility complements his armour well, as he is protected from any blow he cannot avoid. Lastly, the true Dark Elf bloodline began to show itself when he turned 15. He inheirited an affinity for the destructive and mystic arts

He also was given the boon of healing by his Goddess, the Night Mother. His wounds heal faster than normal, leaving no scars. He does not heal impossibly fast as bone fractures and internal injuries take a few days to repair fully.

Weaknesses/Areas of Little skill:
He is not massively strong but makes up for it in speed and agility. Though his armour covers most of his body, his back (covered by just leather) and his bare elbows are relatively vulnerable.

Biography:
Details of his past as he remembers it are obscured and sketchy. What he does remember is his home in a rural district of the Dark Elf capital. Bordered by farmland and forest his household was only meagerly avoiding poverty. In an imperial act of kindness, the Emperor selected a number of school-age children to leave their bush homes and live within the city where they would be taken care of and given the best education.
"The Golden Age" his mother used to sing tearfully, days before Illdian was carted off. He cried too, not understanding the privilege. He was five.

Nine years in an academy could not make him forget his roots, though the strict, harsh scholars tried. On a typical return trip from his childhood home he was shocked to see the campus blazing and spewing smoke into the twilight sky. Frantic shouts echoed across the grounds and a few uniform-clad bodies littered the grass. He dropped his bag, which had held gifts for his parents and siblings when he saw other buildings similarly engulfed. Soon shadowy figures ran into him, lifting and pushing him in all directions. Shouts, screams and battle cries rang in the air. He caught a glimpse of men rushing into a house, weapons drawn and heard the unfamiliar whistle of arrows above his head.

He was snatched up and gagged and placed alongside others along the main street. Old men, merchants, women and even vagrants were lined up beside him. Strange soldiers were beheading them one by one, hastily, incompletely. It was then he escaped, slipping free of his bonds and fleeing with the sounds of wet thuds and muffled groans behind him.

Illdian was alone in a once bustling city. He climbed to the top of a tree that grew out of the paving-stones and saw even greater conflagrations sweeping across the rural bushlands to the south. Horrified, he ran immediately back the way he came earlier and found his path blocked by the Emperor's guard. They were marching into the city fully armed, ready for battle. Their leader, Briarios, ordered Illidan to be taken back to camp. Illdian protested and fought the guards holding him, desperate to get home. On their way there more strange warriors attacked, scattering and killing the men. Illidan had to run or die. The choice taunted him for a moment and then he ran. With all his heart and muscle he ran, barreling towards the cool, dark forest that seemed to deny the harsh orange glow of firelight and resist the deceptively tranquil morning sun that had slid over the horizon.