OOC: Application
Player Name: Crow
Player LJ: silver_foxglove
Contact: A SnowWhite Crow
Character Number: 5
Name: Duibhín Sunstorm
Source: World of Warcraft
Appearance: Duibhín is 5'9" with long black hair that he tends to wear plainly. While he takes good care of it, he doesn't typically go out of his way to style it, preferring to let it flow down his back in a single, straight curtain. He wears robes (not dresses, and yes, he's prickly about that) that vary from simple, dark colors, to the more outlandish colors and cuts. His boots are purple and gold, molded to his feet and ankles for comfort and...a little garish. He's lithe and toned from his constant traveling (even if a nice chunk of that is done on mount).
Personality: Duibhín is proud, arrogant, charming...and really kind of a derp who adores frogs. Honestly though, like most of his race, Duib is an arrogant git who tends to place emphasis in physical beauty and prowess over other ways. He knows he's attractive and like most of his race will use it to advantage if possible. He's also fond of fine fabrics and new clothing, the aesthetically pleasing in most senses of the word.
Still, while he often comes across as haughty, arrogant, snarky and a little bitter, deep down there is a real person hidden under those layers. Duib uses that trademark Blood elf arrogance to hide some deeper insecurities, mostly with his own personal future as a foot-soldier for the horde. While he spends most of his time traveling with various close companions, there is always something in the back of his mind, a sort of niggling worry that something bigger is brewing and it will effect him and the comfortable life he has managed to craft for himself mroe than he knows how to cope with.
Don't let that fool you into thinking that he is just a big puffy kitten under that snark. While yes, he is capable of niceties and friendliness, more often than not, you're more apt to see a strutting, vain peacock who thrills in the overdramatic as a way of finding a comfortable level of (minor) turbulence in his own life. His people skills may vary from utterly lacking (as far as having tact at least) to being rather charming, but Duib likes to think he has a charm of his own, really!
History: For the actual, canon history of the Blood Elves, please see this
As for his personal history, it is as follows:
Duibhín was born to a large High Elf family, the precious child of two gifted mages, his mother an arcane mage and his father dabbling in fire. It was no secret from the time he was a child playing with one of the harmless mana wyrms around his home that he would follow in their footsteps, taking on the mantle of magic-user. It called to him, and hungered for it and it's power in a truly blood elf fashion. His home was a pleasant enough place to grow up in; he was an only child and wanted for nothing. Having the best of both parent's features, he was favored for being pretty and skilled, spoiled and rewarded by them for existing.
It didn't last forever, his parent's falling in battle when he was still relatively young. He saw the change of his people from High Elf to Blood Elf, and now proudly calls himself one of the people, along with the remains of his race. Through everything that has happened though, he has heeded the call of the arcane essence flowing through his veins, pushing himself farther and farther into becoming a more and more powerful mage. It isn't in his parent's name, or for their legacy, grateful as he is for what they did for him, but for himself. He's very loyal to his people, and because of that, to the Horde as a whole, and with every step he takes in learning more to benefit himself, he can better benefit the Horde should he be called on for another mission.
Duib will be taken from his last visit to the Undercity, as he's using the portal to Silvermoon.
Specific Abilities: Duibhín is a level 66 Fire mage. He can pack some nasty power in his attacks, but unfortunately is rather physically frail in compensation. While yes, he does know how to fight hand-to-hand to some degree, he's much more comfortable with his magic...or being able to whack at you with his staff.
Additional Information: Duibhín has a menagerie of pets. Feel free to make them run off and breed all over the place? c:
Sample Journal Post: [[VOICE ]]
[At first, there's a fair bit of static, and the roar of a large lizard as Duib flips the communicator on. He seems to have been talking to himself, the words coming in a bit late to catch the first half of whatever he was saying.]
-...Some Gnomish contraption, surely. Never seen anything like it...I wonder if it's worth anything.
[His voice warms a little at the thought of more money, speaking once more.]
Is it magic or just that strange technology? If someone dropped it...that means there has to be someone around to retrieve it. Or...attempt to really, since it's mine now.
[Finders keepers, after all, and Duibhín isn't about to share it.]
Either way, I suppose we should get back soon. Come on Feathers, let's head back to the road and-
[Is that a stampede of animals noises? Why yes it is. And one utterly bewildered elf crying out in alarm.]
WAIT! Oh, come back! Feathers, after them!
[The communicator is pocketed, forgotten as the blood elf attempts to wrangle his wayward herd.]
Sample Post : Traveling through the portal from the Ruins of Lordaeron to Silvermoon City was never an easy thing for one's stomach to handle. Over time, Duibhín ahd grown more accustomed to it, and the sort of free-falling sensation it caused...but one could only prepare themselves so much before stepping through.
He had done it a million times, dismounting from his venomhide ravasaur to lead the beast through, into the strange light. But somethign was different this time. Oh, the feeling was the same, that jerk to the navel that began it, but...it wasn't over as quickly as normal, and when he was free of the transporters magic he found himself at the edge of a strange town he had never seen before. For a moment, ice clenched around his heart, as he wondered if perhaps he had somehow been transported to enemy territory, but...no. This was nowhere near Stormwind Castle, though the town was similar in appearance...
"Where am I?" he muttered to himself, dusting off his robes as he reached for the reins to his mount once more. The beast seemed agitated, swaying side-to-side, as if eager to be off again. Ever happy to oblige one of his precious pets, Duibhín slid into the saddle, flicking the reins of the beast once, clicking his tongue.
"Come, Feathers...to the side, so we aren't spotted." he murmured fondly, green eyes warily studying the town, as if waiting for enemy guards to pour out at any moment.
He would find out where he was and form there he would get home. There was no harm in a little exploring first, right?
Player LJ: silver_foxglove
Contact: A SnowWhite Crow
Character Number: 5
Name: Duibhín Sunstorm
Source: World of Warcraft
Appearance: Duibhín is 5'9" with long black hair that he tends to wear plainly. While he takes good care of it, he doesn't typically go out of his way to style it, preferring to let it flow down his back in a single, straight curtain. He wears robes (not dresses, and yes, he's prickly about that) that vary from simple, dark colors, to the more outlandish colors and cuts. His boots are purple and gold, molded to his feet and ankles for comfort and...a little garish. He's lithe and toned from his constant traveling (even if a nice chunk of that is done on mount).
Personality: Duibhín is proud, arrogant, charming...and really kind of a derp who adores frogs. Honestly though, like most of his race, Duib is an arrogant git who tends to place emphasis in physical beauty and prowess over other ways. He knows he's attractive and like most of his race will use it to advantage if possible. He's also fond of fine fabrics and new clothing, the aesthetically pleasing in most senses of the word.
Still, while he often comes across as haughty, arrogant, snarky and a little bitter, deep down there is a real person hidden under those layers. Duib uses that trademark Blood elf arrogance to hide some deeper insecurities, mostly with his own personal future as a foot-soldier for the horde. While he spends most of his time traveling with various close companions, there is always something in the back of his mind, a sort of niggling worry that something bigger is brewing and it will effect him and the comfortable life he has managed to craft for himself mroe than he knows how to cope with.
Don't let that fool you into thinking that he is just a big puffy kitten under that snark. While yes, he is capable of niceties and friendliness, more often than not, you're more apt to see a strutting, vain peacock who thrills in the overdramatic as a way of finding a comfortable level of (minor) turbulence in his own life. His people skills may vary from utterly lacking (as far as having tact at least) to being rather charming, but Duib likes to think he has a charm of his own, really!
History: For the actual, canon history of the Blood Elves, please see this
As for his personal history, it is as follows:
Duibhín was born to a large High Elf family, the precious child of two gifted mages, his mother an arcane mage and his father dabbling in fire. It was no secret from the time he was a child playing with one of the harmless mana wyrms around his home that he would follow in their footsteps, taking on the mantle of magic-user. It called to him, and hungered for it and it's power in a truly blood elf fashion. His home was a pleasant enough place to grow up in; he was an only child and wanted for nothing. Having the best of both parent's features, he was favored for being pretty and skilled, spoiled and rewarded by them for existing.
It didn't last forever, his parent's falling in battle when he was still relatively young. He saw the change of his people from High Elf to Blood Elf, and now proudly calls himself one of the people, along with the remains of his race. Through everything that has happened though, he has heeded the call of the arcane essence flowing through his veins, pushing himself farther and farther into becoming a more and more powerful mage. It isn't in his parent's name, or for their legacy, grateful as he is for what they did for him, but for himself. He's very loyal to his people, and because of that, to the Horde as a whole, and with every step he takes in learning more to benefit himself, he can better benefit the Horde should he be called on for another mission.
Duib will be taken from his last visit to the Undercity, as he's using the portal to Silvermoon.
Specific Abilities: Duibhín is a level 66 Fire mage. He can pack some nasty power in his attacks, but unfortunately is rather physically frail in compensation. While yes, he does know how to fight hand-to-hand to some degree, he's much more comfortable with his magic...or being able to whack at you with his staff.
Additional Information: Duibhín has a menagerie of pets. Feel free to make them run off and breed all over the place? c:
Sample Journal Post: [[VOICE ]]
[At first, there's a fair bit of static, and the roar of a large lizard as Duib flips the communicator on. He seems to have been talking to himself, the words coming in a bit late to catch the first half of whatever he was saying.]
-...Some Gnomish contraption, surely. Never seen anything like it...I wonder if it's worth anything.
[His voice warms a little at the thought of more money, speaking once more.]
Is it magic or just that strange technology? If someone dropped it...that means there has to be someone around to retrieve it. Or...attempt to really, since it's mine now.
[Finders keepers, after all, and Duibhín isn't about to share it.]
Either way, I suppose we should get back soon. Come on Feathers, let's head back to the road and-
[Is that a stampede of animals noises? Why yes it is. And one utterly bewildered elf crying out in alarm.]
WAIT! Oh, come back! Feathers, after them!
[The communicator is pocketed, forgotten as the blood elf attempts to wrangle his wayward herd.]
Sample Post : Traveling through the portal from the Ruins of Lordaeron to Silvermoon City was never an easy thing for one's stomach to handle. Over time, Duibhín ahd grown more accustomed to it, and the sort of free-falling sensation it caused...but one could only prepare themselves so much before stepping through.
He had done it a million times, dismounting from his venomhide ravasaur to lead the beast through, into the strange light. But somethign was different this time. Oh, the feeling was the same, that jerk to the navel that began it, but...it wasn't over as quickly as normal, and when he was free of the transporters magic he found himself at the edge of a strange town he had never seen before. For a moment, ice clenched around his heart, as he wondered if perhaps he had somehow been transported to enemy territory, but...no. This was nowhere near Stormwind Castle, though the town was similar in appearance...
"Where am I?" he muttered to himself, dusting off his robes as he reached for the reins to his mount once more. The beast seemed agitated, swaying side-to-side, as if eager to be off again. Ever happy to oblige one of his precious pets, Duibhín slid into the saddle, flicking the reins of the beast once, clicking his tongue.
"Come, Feathers...to the side, so we aren't spotted." he murmured fondly, green eyes warily studying the town, as if waiting for enemy guards to pour out at any moment.
He would find out where he was and form there he would get home. There was no harm in a little exploring first, right?