NAME: Mythiral Dawnblade
NICKNAME: Myth
AGE: 93
RACE: Blood Elf
PRONOUNS: He | Him
UALITY: Gay
EYE COLOUR: Golden / Amber
HEIGHT: 5`7
BODY TYPE: Toned
RELATIONSHIP: Single

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PERSONALITY & APPEARANCE: 
To strangers, Mythiral may come across as blunt, shallow and often times pretty easy to agitate. He has little patience for fools or ery and prefers to stick with what he knows; stubborn or headstrong may also come to mind. Of course, to those who do know him, it can be quite a different story.
Mythiral lacks confidence in himself, but surely makes up for it with his wit and false bravado- flirting outrageously with anyone he may deem attractive, only to shy away and panic if they reciprocate any form of affection in response.

He hates feeling disrespected or otherwise made fun or taken advantage of- and he most certainly holds a grudge, vindictive towards those who have wronged him or upset him, doing his best afterwards to spite or avoid them entirely. Maybe a little petty, but if people are going to be nasty he may as well return the favour right?

Standing at just 5'7, a little short for an Elf, Mythiral is a young adult with midnight brown hair; the bulk of which is tied back out of the way. His ears are a bit shorter than the average Blood Elf and both are unpierced- piercings can get quite hazardous when putting on a helmet and in general battle, just one of the reasons he had his snake-bite removed. When speaking or listening to someone, he may sometimes turn his head slightly to the right- this may look like a habit but the truth behind it is hearing. The drum in his right ear was damaged a long time ago, but he doesn't disclose this information on his mercenary sheet.

His eyes are Golden, though perhaps more Amber in colour, framed by strong cheekbones and jaw. He has surprisingly good complexion, no visible scars on his face other than his right ear, which features a scarred-gash.

Mythiral is rarely without his armour. Any armour for that matter... his usual is a white, blue set with a rusted copper coloured alloy trim. A ragged cape, which he refuses to replace, and a well worn-but-maintained greatsword.

HISTORY:

Mythiral grew up in Orgrimmar's orphanage under Matron Battlewail and Tosamina, the latter hammering respect and just a little bit of self-doubt into him. Half the things he did just weren't enough to please the irritable Orc, so many times he was left to sweep and clean on his own whilst the Orc children got to play... maybe she didn't like Elves, but it certainly felt unfair.

Growing curious about his origins, Mythiral began to question the Orcs each day with more persistence until he finally got his answer. He was dropped off by a Paladin, an unnamed adventurer or mercenary. That wasn't really the answer Mythiral had been looking for however, so as soon as he was able he set out to find the mystery Paladin... but that was probably going to be dangerous and he'd be stupid if he didn't prepare himself- so he took up training as a Warrior to learn how to defend himself so he could at least live long enough to find them.

His venture started in the Barrens, but clearly this wasn't the place a skilled Paladin would be roaming. It had to be the more dangerous places... so his journey led him across Azeroth- from Kalimdor to Northrend and the Eastern Kingdoms. Most he met told him to return to Orgrimmar or Silvermoon, that he'd never find them and would simply die out here. He'd prove them wrong! .....

After almost getting himself killed in Zul'Drak, he was carted off to a camp in Grizzly Hills where he met a Paladin named Starkle- though he was more surprised to find they were a Human. This clearly wasn't the Paladin he was looking for but they offered him some guidance to settle his mind.

Mythiral stayed with the small group for a few months, learning better skills from the Paladin and before he knew it, two years had passed and gone was the gnawing urge to find his family. They were likely dead or didn't remember him anyways so what did they matter? He could make his own path and his own name- be his own person. After spending another year with the group, his Paladin training was complete and he was given the family name of Dawnblade.

With a new sense of self, Mythiral journeyed back to Orgrimmar to start a life for himself... only to realise he basically had no money. So, under the new label of a Paladin, he kept his job as a sellsword. On the off however, he started up an apprenticeship as a blacksmith- hoping to get into the trade and begin making funds that way.