1. #1

    Seeking advice/honest criticism on Bio

    So I have never been overly great at the Lore side of Warcraft but I'm eager to get into Roleplay and have been playing on the sidelines of a roleplay server for quite awhile. So far I have written a full Biography for one character (a Blood Elf) but this is only derived from my limited knowledge and I'm worried it may seem completely ridiculous - none-the-less... I plan on playing this character as a "fall from grace", someone completely off on a tangent and greatly effected from his experiences.

    Name: Dal’thar Emberfury
    Age: 138
    Height: 6' 3
    Weight: 87kg
    Spouse: None
    Occupation: None disclosed.
    Place of Birth: Quel'thalas


    Dal’thar is slightly taller than most of his kin. The contours of his body are accented by strong muscular tone suggesting a life of strenuous activity - this elf is clearly not built for agility, but rather brute force. Minor calluses can be noted on his hands, appearing more developed on his right palm - perhaps an indiction of weaponry training.

    His face is rugged but not unkind - with care some would regard him as handsome, chiseled cheekbones and a sculpted jaw. His eyes glow with a radiant jade hue - evidently the taint of fel. They flicker with a keen curiosity and at times a piercing suspicion. His hair hangs loosely about his shoulders, hues of chestnut intertwining with hazel, it appears unkempt. His chin is accented by a tidy beard, seemingly the only feature that has had great care in regards to grooming.

    His attire is basic, indicting little or no wealth. His tunic, formed of tan hide, is riddled with various pockets. The contents of these compartments appear to be of no use or sentimental value - items ranging from dislodged crocolisk teeth, broken/rusted arrowheads, a set of dice and various other curious knick-knacks. His trousers are almost always covered in a heavy dust at the knees - perhaps from groveling or due to the nature of his ‘work’. The leather of his boots has creased substantially, indicting their age - the suppleness provides a high level of comfort allowing this elf to stride with ease. At times he can be seen adorning a weather-beaten hat, the brim sags at the front - hiding his face slightly but hindering his sight.

    Often he is seen with a cigar hanging precariously from his lips, a habit that engulfs him in a smokey scent that seems to linger.

    He speaks with clarity and ease - a tone laced with confidence.


    Firstborn into a family of Silvermoon nobility Dal’thar was never left wanting as a child. Despite their status and commitments his parents were a constant presence in the upbringing of his younger sister, Al’arael (a spindly child of flaxen hair) and himself. Their childhood was a haze of extravagant soirees and social gatherings at the heels of their mother and father. An environment of such strict social expectations and regulations was never the ideal playground for children - but thankfully they had each other and equally elaborate imaginations.

    An energetic child with a thirst for knowledge it was always quietly expected that Dal’thar would fervently apply himself to his training. Wielding a wooden practice sword at a young age would confirm that skills at arms were innately passed down from his father, a former Blood Knight granted title and status through marriage. Dal’thar idolized his father, his steadfast demeanor emphasized through the child's eyes. He applied himself wholeheartedly to the rigors of training - driven by the aspiration of one day following in his footsteps. Al’arael, an academically gifted and studious child, began training as a Mage - concentrating primarily on the manipulation and control of fire, much to the approval of their mother. 

By adolescence he was an image of dedication, each arduous hour of steel clinking against steel, of wiping sweat from the brow, had finally paid off. He was yet another ribbon of pride and status to the household. With the influence of his father he was finally placed amid the ranks of the Blood Knights, directly gaining the title of Knight - much to the annoyance of disgruntled Initiates and Adepts. Despite his lack of practical experience he gained the respect of his subordinates - leading through example. Meanwhile, his sister, showing an outstanding flare for magic, was placed amid the brilliant minds of Dalaran. 

    Eventually his duties extended beyond the haven of Silvermoon, a call to Northrend. Days before the celebrations of Winter Veil he stepped out on to its unforgiving shores amid a battalion of Horde soldiers. Some went willingly - eager for battle in the name of the Warchief, some were conscripts and some were mercenaries. Dal’thar was placed in charge of a small company of 20, a miss-match of skills, experience and ideologies. They were tasked with one thing - reconnaissance. Map the landscape, terrain and resources along with movements of hostiles - avoid direct contact. For the most part their task was carried out with efficiency - hawks were flown to and from base camp in Howling Fjord with regular updates on information and the location of the company.
    Following a coastal path they eventually crossed into Dragonblight, without fresh snowfall their tracks became impossible to cover - hostile natives became aware of their presence. Unwittingly they continued heading more in land. Day after day they continued with their task, at night they huddled against bitter cold, fire was strictly prohibited for fear of giving away their position. Meanwhile, an expedition from Borean Tundra was crossing the same area, it appeared to be Alliance led with the aid of Dalaran Magi - Al’arael was among them. 

    Dal’thar and his company shivered against the wind, it howled and screamed - no other sound could be heard. Then, out of no where, a spark of brilliant flame shot into the air like a flare a short distance away - startled, they looked at each other, mouths agape. Rationality disappeared, in spite of orders each one of them picked up their weapons and ran towards the spark.
    As they drew nearer the sound of wind gave way to the clink of steal and fizzle of fire. The natives - Nerubians were attacking the expedition from Borean. Dal’thar breathed heavily, his full lung capacity restricted with his armor, his eyes darted from the faces of Dwarves to Humans to the Spider-like creatures they battled against. Then he saw her, the flaxen hair - Al’arael, facing off against a behemoth of a Nerubian, her spells bouncing off its exoskeleton. Without hesitation he gave the order, his team obeyed and charged in - weapons elevated. Time seemed warped, each second essential, each swing of the blade critical. When he finally reached his sisters side it was too late, no amount of training or healing incantations could save her. Although the casualties of both parties were minimal considering the force of the attack Dal’thar could find no solace. When news of the attack reached base camp he was ordered to return - a changed man he sat staring at the canvas of the tent as the events were recited for record.

    Declared unfit to carry out active duty he returned to Silvermoon, his mother had fallen into depression his father blamed him for being unable to save Al’arael. Although he was granted the ability to retain his status within the Blood Knights as an honorary position he spiraled into a world of drinking, gambling and brawls. Naturally the money couldn’t last, his family cut financial ties. Desperate to continue with this lifestyle as a means of escape he turned to petty crime - theft, forgery, selling of banned substances. Lacking the prowess of a common street-rat he soon got caught - and was accorded a dishonorable discharge for his deeds.

    Lastly, I want to thank you guys for reading this - I greatly appreciate any advise you have to offer.

  2. #2
    I thought it was really well written but I think you should change why Dal'thar was sent back home. Something else needs to happen after the battle between the Alliance/Horde vs. the Nerubian that could compromise the who mission.

    i.e Doesn't follow his previous orders and instead hunts Nerubians which leads to the death of his battalion or something along those lines.

    Other then that I really really liked the story! Very well written!!!

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