Race: High Elf Class: Rogue/Ranger
Age: 147 Level: 10/9
Height: 5'11" Deity: None
Weight: 183 lbs Titles: None
Build: Lean/Muscular Marital Status: Single
Skin Tone: Light Eyes: Chestnut Brown
Hair Color: Auburn Hair Length: Below shoulder, a single braided lock flows down the center.
Standard Attire: A dark trenchcoat with black leather pants and a plain green shirt. Favored Weapons: Short sword/Longbow
Facial Features: Long face with a dimpled chin, indistinct cheek bones, eyes evenly spaced, symmetrical. Distinguishing Features: His height is unusual for an elf. Tattoos of vines weave elaborate patterns in black and green on his arms and legs.


~future edit~


He's quiet and thoughtful in nature, with a warm disposition, but has embraced a more

mirthful and silly side since landing in Treegum.

Humor's not his strong suit, but he loves to joke.

Since joining the guard force he's taken on another aspect of his persona, that of the guardian.

He's a patient, kindly soul, but doesn't tolerate any hostility towards anyone under his protection,

meeting it with calculated efficiency.


Fallorian spent most of his life traveling from city to city on the mainland with his family. His

mother, Annwyn was a priestess, setting up small temples to Sapherian wherever they'd go. His

brother, Leirea, a student of wizardry. The main reason for their constant movement was the

profession of his father, Printhas, a travelling merchant of some note.

The last city they lived in before he made his move to Treegum was the human settlement of

Crestfall city. They had settled there for some time, nearly ten years. His brother had been

taken on as an apprentice, his mother set up a sizeable temple, his father had taken over a

shop in the market square to a fair bit of success.

Fallorian had yet to find his niche, keeping to himself mostly. He'd spend some of his days

peering in through the window of his brother's study, watching the bright flashes of color as he

learned to channel the weave. Others he'd help his mother at the temple, collecting gold from

patrons or cleaning the floors and tidying the cupboards. Most of his time he'd spend at his

father's shop, however. Listening to the banter, admiring the strange artifacts that often found

their way there from even stranger characters.

He'd observe them quietly over the years, learning the intricacies of their sign language as well

as the subtleties of the common tongue.

His father was warm and inviting to his customers, which is what he found the strangest of his

time watching their interactions. To Fallorian he was often silent, watching him with a stern eye.

Periodically he'd bark an order to clean the stock room or help a customer with a large order,

but that was the extent of it.

On a crisp spring evening on his way home from the shop he was about to find the niche he'd

sought, though not as he'd hoped.

It was getting late, so he decided to slip through an alleyway. Two silent sets of eyes fell on him

immediately, freezing him in place while a third focused on another, their voices hushed and

urgent. A stout halfling with a hunch in his right shoulder spoke with a cold, taunting tone,

seeming to glean amusement from the fear in the large man's voice. There he was, no more

than two and a half feet tall, perched on the chest of a burly human, waving around a small

pointed object which gleamed in the intermittent flecks of light as he mocked the frightened


One of the guards belched out a guttural chortle at one of the comments, startling the halfling.

Before another word could be spoken the blade sent a spurt of blood onto the adjacent wall. The

elf could do little but stare in horror at the man drowning in his own blood in front of him.

The halfling turned towards him, pointing his dagger, the two sets of eyes drew closer, all went


It was this halfling that he would come to know as "Sleeves", and from this halfling that he would

earn the nickname "K'an".

~contd in a future edit~


  • Aided several adventurers in defeating a Bytholan priestess in the sewers beneath Treegum,
    was eaten by a giant purple worm which was later blown up.
    ~contd in a future edit~



  • Owns no land.
  • Resides in the Eye of the Storm, Treegum.