Date of Birth: Born twelve years before the opening of the Dark Portal. (Used the <a href="http://www.wowwiki.com/Timeline_(from_official_site,_2007) ">Official Timeline</a>)
Hair: Black Mane, bound together.
Beard: Full beard.
Eyes: Green (former: Blue)
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 80 kg
Place of residence: Renting a room in the Slaughtered Lamb - Mage District, Stormwind.
Place of Birth: Ambermill, Silverpine Forest.
Known Relatives: Mother and Father in Ambermill (assumed).
Religion/Philosophy:
Occupation: Fel-sworn (secretive), known as a mage in public working for Stormwind.
Weapons of Choice: Relies on his Spellcasting, otherwise his walking stick if needed.
Physical Features: Despite being in his late thirties Gyhran sports few wrinkles around the eyes. He is physically weak, requiring him to use his walking stick to support him.
Clothing: He usually wears a simple, dark reddish Robe, a red linen belt, black leather boots and a black travelling cloak.
Special Abilities: Due to past events he can take on the form of a winged demon, at the cost of being exhausted the entire day and the sacrifice of a <a href="http://www.wowhead.com/item=6265">Soul Shard</a>.
Personality: Gyhran used to be a very calm and outgoing man. He loved to go out for a drink in the tavern at the Old District, spend time with his daughter and wife in the park and was eager to study the arcane in the Mage Tower of Stormwind. After the events that left a scar on his life forever this changed though. Rarely talking and shy around people Gyhran doesn't resemble his old self at all. The occasional bursts of anger and apathy only add to the confusion of friend and foe alike.
Likes/Dislikes: There isn't much to enjoy for Gyhran in this world. Give him a book, a glass of wine and a niche to read unnoticed and he won't complain. There is also another thing that he craves - unconsciously though.
More than anything in this world, more than the Horde or any vile creature, Gyhrans hatred for the legion is unheard of. He will do whatever he can to hunt down and terminate any demon he can see. He also has a strong distaste for Talbuk Steaks and the so called Mulgore "Firewater", along with a fear of heights.
History: There isn't much to be told about Gyhrans youth. He was born to a Mage of Ambermill and his wife, twelve years before the opening of the Dark Portal. Inheriting the talent to control the flow of magic from his Father, he was sent to Dalaran, the city of mages at the age of ten. Two years went past uneventful - Until the opening of the portal. News of strange, green skinned barbarians - calling themselves "Orcs" - reached his ears. Hit tutors reassured him that they would be safe here, granted the Council of Six would not be overthrown by such savage beasts.
The years passed by, and Gyhran continued his studies on the arcane. He and his teachers quickly saw he had a particular talent in manipulating the "Cold" Element. Soon he unleashed cones of freezing wind, rooted everyone around him with chains of ice and even trapped his teachers Cat - his name was Mr. Bigglesworth (who would name a cat that way?) - in a block of ice. The last act, in particular, got him into several hours of cleaning the bedroom of the particular teacher - Without the help of magic, mind you.
After 20 hard years of studying he graduated and was sent as to Stormwind as an ambassador to help the local Mages. The destruction of Lordaeron, along with the betrayal of Prince Arthas Menethil two years later were shocking news, but passed by rather unnoticed for Gyhran. He was not able to pay any attention to such things, for he fell in love with a maiden, her name was Maria. They quickly married in the Cathedral of Light and lived together in a little hut just outside the walls of Stormwind. A year after, their daughter, Daphne, was born. Gyhran was happy. Never could he have dreamt of having a family, being a mage and just living a life full of joy. Soon, though, this would change. Everything would change.
It was roughly a year before the second opening of the Dark Portal. Rumors where going around in the Mage Tower, people colleagues vanishing without notice, blood on the walls of their homes. Some even whispered the word each mage was taught to fear: "Demons". Everybody knew the history of Magna Medivh, and everybody feared the Legion. Gyhran didn't pay any attention. He thought himself and his family safe, close to the mighty city of Stormwind. "And if not, I will freeze them demons to their bones!", he though.
One night, he heard several voices outside their home. He took a glance out of the window, and saw group of people drawing strange symbols around his house. Defias. Criminals, known for their horrendous deeds in the name of their Leader - Edwin Van Cleef. "You wish to defile MY home?! You do not know who you're going against, mongrels!", he stormed out determined to give the criminals a cold death. But once he stepped through the door he found no one. A dream? He looked around for a few more minutes, and then decided to go back. As he turned around he saw that he whole house was covered in strange, purple pulsating runes. He heard screams from the inside, his wife and daughter crying out in agony. Trying time and again to break inside, but the door was shut. Not even his magic could open it, even though he sent blast after blast of arcane magic against it. "You cannot save them, they will be fuel for our strike against Stormwind!", he heard a woman's voice speaking. He turned around and saw the Bandits, along with the woman that just spoke. She was clad in black and wielded a staff with an ornate purple crystal on top. "Do not worry, you'll be united soon... Or maybe not.", she chuckled.
He could do nothing. They were just too many, and his magic was useless while his family was trapped inside his own home. Do you wish to save them? A voice, but who? None of the bandits spoke. Do you wish to save them?Yes, he thought. Yes I want to save them whatever the cost!Very well. Think. Think about what you want to do... Kill the sorceress and the spell will be undone. It will require a great sacrifice though, the voice spoke. Anything, I will do anything... I want that black witch to die. "I WANT HER TO DIE!", screaming out the last words Gyhran focused all of his hatred on that woman. The cries inside the house stopped. A bold of green fire, in the form of a Dragons Head, was unleashed from his hands and hit the Defias Warlock. She dropped dead immediately, causing the others to flee in terror.
Gyhran dropped to his knees. He was exhausted, he was confused. But he saved his family. Crawling to the door he opened it, hoping to see the faces of his wife and daughter, to embrace them. The house was empty, empty but for a single purple shard. "No... Not this way... I wanted to save them...", he uttered with a shaky voice. "You saved them, in a way. From the claws of the Bandits. Now seal the contract!", the voice came from the corner of the room. A man, with green eyes was sitting on a chair there, clad in robes of burning red. He got up, and slowly strode to Gyhran, kneeling next to the man. He picked up the small Shard, took Gyhrans left hand and placed the shard onto it. "Here, you will be forever together with your daughter at least. Your wife was required to kill the enemy.", the man let loose a howling laughter. Then, with a quick motion he pushed down the shard hard into Gyhrans hand, his own hand engulfed by green flames. "N- No... I didn't want this to happen...", he fell unconscious. "Ha, weakling... You are now on a path with no return. You are property of the Legion.", and with these words the man vanished, leaving only ashes in his place.
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