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RORIN
-Rorin
-Male
-Blond hair (in two tails to keep out of his way in combat), light skin,
usually leather armor (until they fix it with the next patch, then back to
chain), green kilt, green cape, green skullcap (because everyone keeps
saying he looks like a girl)

Rorin grew up in the wooded plains near destard.  His brother and sisterwere killed by a group of mages who didn't hold our breed in high regard, since that time he has been opposed to humans using magic without descretion or with violence in mind.  Ironically Rorin has found that in order to beatmagic using humans he must learn the art himself, but not before his bow. He was educated by his aging parents and upon their deaths left his home near destard and wandered off into the world. so there.

FINGOLFIN 
As with most stories perhaps it is best to start at the beginning.  My name is Fingolfin or Fin for short and I was born 32 years ago in the city of Yew, in what I later determined to be the Catskills shard.  My father, Dylain, was of elven and human heritage and my mother, Irulan, was pure bread elf.  Father ran a small tavern in the town of Yew and Mother had quite a reputation for her exquisitely made clothing.  I was the oldest child of three, four years after my birth my brother Finarfin, whom we called Fina, was born, and then three years later mother died giving birth to my sister, Gwen.  Being the oldest the care of my siblings fell to me as Father was kept very busy trying to support us.  The first few years after Mother's death were very difficult, after all I was only seven years of age and I fear I was not much help to Father. Even though times were hard, Father somehow managed to find enough gold to hire teachers to train both our minds and bodies. As a strong believer in the importance of Balance Father made sure that we learned many skills.  In exchange for free drinks at the tavern one of the city guards gave all three of us lessons in tactics, weapons, and the study of arms.  A mage that Father was friendly with would tutor us in magery, resisting the effects of magic, and the identifying of items.  Never one to forget our elven blood Father had an Elven Ranger teach us of tracking, hiding, and camping. My bother Finarfin favored Father's human heritage, while Gwen and I favored our mother's elven line.  Perhaps because of this Finarfin always had more prowess with the blade and shield, but I showed more of an aptitude for the arcane arts.  Magic was always part of our home, and we all were trained in magic from a very early age.  When I reached the age of twelve I was apprenticed to a tailor who had worked with Mother before her death.  Finarfin became an apprentice to a blacksmith when he reached the same age.
Gwen had always been a kind and caring girl.  Always quick to take in a stray dog, or help a baby bird who had fallen from the nest.  Her kind nature and aptitude for magic gave her an interest in becoming a healer.  Several weeks before her twelfth birthday I had spoken with the Yew healer about an apprenticeship for her. However, he already had an apprentice and wasn't willing to take her on. Hearing that Britain's healer was in need of an apprentice I arranged a meeting with him. A few days after Gwen's birthday, she and I began a trip to the capital city to discuss an apprenticeship for Gwen with that city's healer.  As we started off that beautiful spring day little did I realize that it 'twas to be one of  the saddest days of my life.  We were traveling on foot as the journey wasn't that far and the weather was most pleasant.  Not long after passing the guard post on the road to Britain, I began to get a sense of foreboding.  I began looking for signs on the road and in the woods of trouble, but I could find nothing wrong.  Several minutes later I knew what it was I had sensed.  The wind shifted and I caught the strong sent of Orcs.  Gwen and I quickly left the road and hid in the brush.
A war party of Orcs appeared around the bend of the road.  We stayed as still and quite as stone.  As the Orcs were passing our hiding place one of them stumbled on a loose stone and fell right on top of Gwen.  As Gwen and the Orc both cried out, the other Orcs quickly drew their weapons and turned to see what had happened.  I had not been discovered but I knew that the Orcs would surely kill Gwen, so I unsheathed my sword and charged the Orcs with a fierce battle cry.  "O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!" I cried as I fell on the Orcs.  Quickly I slayed one of the foul creatures, and turned to fight the rest.  I was screaming for Gwen to run, but she wasn't willing to abandon me.  Gwen began using her healing magic on me.  I was facing four Orcs single handed, I knew my death was at hand I only hoped that Gwen would escape.  I managed to kill another of the vile things before the rest of them over came me.  My last sight was of Gwen running into the woods.  I awoke later badly wounded, there was no sight of Gwen, or the Orcs.  I stumbled back towards the guard post hoping that Gwen had found her way there.  I collapsed on the road before reaching the post but a kind traveler helped me the rest of the way.  Upon reaching the guard post I was extremely distraught after not finding Gwen there.
One of the guards bound my wounds and used some healing magic to tend my injuries.  Insisting on searching for Gwen, I borrowed a new sword from the guards and one of the guards and I began searching for Gwen.  I found the spot of the battle and managed to track Gwen for some distance.  In a clearing I could clearly see the signs where Gwen had been overtaken by the Orcs.  However, there was no body and no blood.  I could find no sigh on Gwen.  The guard and I tracked the Orcs for several more hours.  Finally we lost the trail of the Orcs and had to give up the search.
I returned to our house in Yew to give Father and Finarfin the news that Gwen had been captured.  That night while gathered around the fire the three of us swore on oath to find Gwen, and rescue her, or if she was dead to avenge her.  Father sold the tavern the next day, and with the gold bought weapons, armor, and horses for us to use in our search for Gwen. For eight years we searched.  Father spoke with everyone, and no one had heard of nor seen Gwen.  Finarfin and I searched the deepest dungeons and the bleakest deserts.  No sign of Gwen could be found.  Finarfin had become a mighty warrior.  He was strong and his blade was quick. I had set aside the use of magic almost entirely focusing instead on the warriors' arts. Father and I had both become formidable warriors in our own right but our skills paled compared to those of my brother.  One day we came across a group of Orcs, we fell upon them and slew all but one.  I was gravely injured in the battle.  Father and Finarfin tied up the remaining Orc and questioned him about Gwen.  I fear that they were rather harsh with him.  I am ashamed to say but they beat the Orc for hours trying to wring out some piece of information.  Finally the Orc admitted that his clan indeed had taken a girl prisoner many years ago.  We did mange to find out the location of his clan's camp but the Orc died before we could find out if Gwen still lived.  Finarfin's blood was boiling and he insisted that we ride to the Orc camp right then.  I tried to pursued him to wait until we were healed and rested but he would not hear of it.  Being too wounded to travel farther Father and Fina took me home and then set out in search of the Orc camp.  I promised to follow, with more supplies in a few days.
The next day I heard a rider approaching the house early in the morn.  I was horrified to see my brother bleeding and battered on the horse, and over his saddle laid the body of Father.  I ran out to Finarfin,  he fell out of his saddle into my arms.  I carried him into the house and laid him on the bed.  Quickly I ran back to check Father.  I found him dead, covered with terrible wounds from Orcish weapons.  He was so badly beaten and bruised that I hardly recognized him.  After carrying Father's body into the house I knelt beside my brother.
"Fina what has happened" I asked.  Finarfin moaned "She's dead", "She's dead", "the bastards killed her in front of us".  My brother began to weep as he told me what had happened.   They had traveled to the Orc camp.  Quietly they slipped past the Orc guards and looked into the camp.  Gwen 'twas there.  She was tattered, and badly beaten but she lived.  Fina and Father decided to wait for dark to try to rescue my sister.  They were overjoyed when a large war party of Orcs left the camp not long before dark.  The camp was now only guarded by a handful of Orcs.  When darkness had settled upon the camp Finarfin and Father crept into the camp and attacked the few remaining Orcs.  They quickly freed Gwen and began to make their escape.  As they were leaving the camp the war party returned.  The Orcs were enraged beyond belief at the attack on their camp.  Quickly the Orcs cut off the exit of the camp trapping Father, Gwen, and Fina inside.  Father and Finarfin fought back to back trying to escape and protect Gwen.  Father fell and Finarfin picked him up and with Gwen following charged the exit. They almost made it.  Several Orcish Lords jumped Finarfin and badly wounded him.  The Orc war boss grabbed Gwen and pulled her to him.  As Fina turned to face this new enemy, the war boss pulled his dagger and shoved it into Gwen's chest, at the same time ripping her throat with his claws.  Gwen's body fell to the ground gushing her life onto the ground.  Father who had regained conscienceness to see his daughters death screamed with his dying words "Run! Fina! Run! Save yourself!".  Finarfin realizing that he could not defeat this enemy and badly wounded ran for his horse.  Somehow he managed to escape the Orcs and return home to me.
Finarfin's last words to me were "Fin, steel is strong and serves its purpose, but magic is the only hope when fighting an enemy many times your number and strength.", "Perhaps, had I trained more in magic today wouldn't have been so black", "Father is dead, Gwen is dead, and I fear that I too am not long for this world, only you remain Fin to carry out our oath".  With his dying breath Fina said "Avenge us, Avenge us all, remember your oath".  Finarfin died in my arms that morning.
It was five years ago that my family died.  In that time I have followed my brother's advice, I have practiced my magic and laid aside the shield and sword.  My oath still binds me, to avenge my family upon the Orcs.  I have made a new life for myself.  Now, I travel the wilderness alone seeking vengeance.  I always try to remember Gwen's kindness and Father's wisdom and Finarfin's strength.  I try to be kind to strangers as long as they show respect, I honor the land that gives me life never taking more than I need, I never kill without reason, I offer aid to those in need.  But my oath still binds me, and I will not rest as long as any Orc still draws breath.
If you seek me, look around the wilderness between Yew and Britain.  I still hunt in this area, it is very sacred to me as this is the area where my life was forever changed.  I can sometimes be found in Yew or Britain, Yew is my home but Britain offers a place to buy the things I need for my arcane arts.  As is the custom of Elven Rangers I am usually clad in dark green, and seldom don my plate armor unless I am preparing for a mighty battle.  If you see a fair skinned, fair haired, elf casting powerful spells at the foul Orcs and yelling my battle cry "For Gwen! Vengeance will be Mine!" 'tis probably I, Fingolfin.
My name is Fingolfin and this is my tale.

Until we meet again,
I wish you Clear Skies
and Safe Travels. Farewell.

FYNN SILVERLEAF
Hail and well met! I am Fynn Silverleaf, and here is my story.
I was born and raised in the forest North East of Yew.  My sire is a Sylvan Elf and an expert archer as most Sylvan Elves are, and my dame is a Grey Elf and a healer and is well versed in the knowlege of herbs and the Mystic arts. When I grew out of early childhood, for my 100th birthday, my sire gave me my first bow and I learned the ways of the Sylvan Elves. Practicing archery, bowcraft and fletching filled my days as a youngster.  As I became proficient in these skills, my sire taught me the ways of the forest, battle tactics and how to blend in with my surroundings, so I became invisible to all, save those with a truely trained eye.  As I passed into adolescence, my interests changed.  The Mystic arts began to intrigue me.  I decided, much to the disappointment of my sire, and the joy of my dame, to persue knowlege of the Mystic arts.  My dame taught me of herbs and powders (also known as reagents), where to find them and their uses.  She instructed me in the healing arts and how to cast spells.  This, I felt was my true calling. I have diligently practiced the Mystic arts, and continue to do so to this day.
When I reached adulthood, on my 200th birthday, I decided to leave the forest and see the world. I travelled throughout the land of Brittania, visiting it's various cities and islands. I found a strange and wonderfully diverse world.  The land is filled with animals and monsters of a wide variety.  The dungeons are a dangerous place to set foot and are filled with monsters and murderous individuals.  The cities boast of shops, taverns, inns, and more, with vast multitudes of humans, both good and evil.  So many beings there that it makes me yearn for the peace and tranquility of the forest.  While in the capital city of Britain, I learned tailoring skills.  I use this skill to make clothing which I sell to the tailors.  This is the way I increase my resources, so I can buy reagents from the mage and alchemy shops.  Without reagents, one cannot cast spells and the Mystic arts are nothing more than useless words and silly gestures. While in Britain, I met an Elf lass of unbelievable beauty.  Her name is Saar, and she is born of High Elf stock on both her sire's and dame's lineage.  To my surprise and joy, she found me to be of interest, even though I have both Sylvan Elf and Grey Elf lineage. I married the lovely Saar, and my Lady and I reside in Yew, a lovely, quiet little town, North West of Britain, close to the forest where I was born.  My Lady Saar is also an Elven Mage and a tailor. She is stronger than I in the Mystic Arts, as she has been trained since early youth, but I am working hard on improving my magery
skills. When I am not tailoring, I spend my time in the company of The Glamer Velt Elves, an Elven society that is based close to Yew. It is there that I find a place to meet my Elven brothers and sisters, and enjoy the company of fellow Elves, a necessity in a world populated with humans, orcs and other beings.
Well, that is my story so far.  I hope, if thou art ever in Yew and happen to run into me, that thou will say "Hail" and spend some time exchanging tales of adventure with me. I look forward to meeting you and hope thy days are filled with adventure.
May thy steps always be downhill...and the wind be forever at thy back!

AZRAEL THE GREY 
A brief history, to put things in perspective.  Six hundred years ago, before the reign of Mondain, humans were even more primitive and aggressive than they are today.  The Grey Elven Kingdom was losing an epic war with these humans, for though the Elves bested the humans' skill with blade, bow and spell, the humans were unrelenting, with unprecedented numbers.  If the
elves lost one warrior in slaying a dozen, it was a net victory for these foul humans.
        A desperate plan was devised.  The war was futile, but escape was not.  Lathimon, High Court Mage, formulated a powerful spell by which a gate could be opened to a pocket dimension, a shadow of Arcadia, as it were.  The spell took a year to weave.  The war went badly, and as the war was nearing completion, siege had began on the very Palace, the last bastion of Elven power.  The gate opened, as the walls began to fall. Thousands were slaughtered.  Only a few dozen escaped, of a people who numbered into the hundreds of thousands.  Those left behind were slain, hid deep into the forests, or worse, were tempted to survive by darker arts.  The descendants of these, we call Drow today, or so the story goes.
        Lathimon died upon opening the gate.  The land he had opened was the paradise he had promise, but the force of the raw magic was too much for even his trained body to endure.  He died without even a glimpse of the salvation he had wrought for his king and countrymen.  His name is still sacred to many of us.
        Three hundred years passed in a pocket paradise.  Children were born, but born touched by the magic of the lands they were born to.  A frail lad was born with lavender eyes...he was named Azrael.  I was never told which of the elders my parents actually were. Perhaps the King, or his court mages... they each raised me as if I was their own.  I was nearly two hundred years when the sundering came.
        By this time, I had taken a wife, Rebecca, and had a daughter, Anya.  I was an accomplished mage and researcher in my own right, and when I discovered what was to come, my fellow elves understood the gravity of the situation. Lathimon's spell was imperfect.  The paradise was crumbling.  Quickly, all mages (and that was most of us) banded together to devise a gate to take us back to the Sosaria we had left behind.  A slim chance in a human hell was better than certain oblivion in paradise.  The gate opened, and I should have known something was wrong from the start.  Flickers of color, reflections of eerie light mixed among the blue waves of the gate.  I took hold of my family's hands, stepped forward, and...
        There was no way we could have known.  Of Mondain, the Gem of Immortality... The world we had left behind was no more; shattered into a thousand shards.  My daughter's screams yet echo in my ears.  I doubt any two of us emerged in the same shard.  The fractured magical road cast us haphazardly forth into this Britannia.  I found myself frail, my magics weak.  But I lived.
        Of course I searched for them.  Far and wide, through the dungeons, forests and cities have I ventured, always watchful. In my search, I have honed my magical skills once more.  I have learned much of this world, though I yet hold the old stories dear.  GlamerVelt has welcomed me warmly and for this I am thankful.  As many of you have seen, my will is yet strong, and my honor well placed in the defense of those I was not present to defend, five centuries ago.  But my writings have already gone on too long.  I shall no longer tell of a life on paper which can be much better seen through the capable elven eyes of my brethren.

Li Tempe I Cognis,

Azrael the Grey, Magus