Appearance

Mentality

Personal history

A female human form stood before them, eyes staring, defensive but defiant. There was no mistaking it -- to the trained wyrmhunters, a distinct draconic aura emanated from her. If that was not enough evidence, a row of silver scales ran down the backs of her arms and on her shoulders, glistening in the torchlight.
 
---
 
"There is no glory in murder, Vallen."
 
"Lower your blade and step aside, Icarus, or I'll cut you down myself."
 
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A groan escapes Icarus' lips as he's hoisted onto someone's shoulder. Blurred vision allows for flickering images -- spinning blades, shining scales and angry growling. Pain sears across his back as he hits the rolling waves, and the world turns black.
 
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"Hey Hass, I think there's something in the water!"
 
...
 
"Holy shit, it's alive!"
 
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Cut down by a rival, thrown into the sea and left to die, Icarus felt his life fade away into the swirling currents. Imagine his surprise when he woke up to find himself in a somewhat comfortable bed, hurting but alive.
 
Icarus later found out that an agent of the Boromar Clan, Hass Faldren, spotted what he thought was a floating corpse. Upon closer inspection, he found that the corpse was just barely clinging to life, and hauled him onto his ships. Wondering if he could return him to a worried family for a sum, he brought the dying elf back to a Boromar safehouse, where he instructed for Icarus to be cared for.
 
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"So, no one's gonna want you."
 
"No."
 
"So you're useless to me."
 
"I suppose."
 
"Well, it's a good thing I like you."
 
---
 
Faldren came by from time to time to check on his discovered asset, but it soon became clear that a dishonored elf had no value to the Valenar hunters. Fortunutely, Faldren found that he had grew fond of Icarus. With the blessing of the Boromar patriarch, Faldren trained Icarus in his line of work, teaching him to lie, steal, smuggle, and sail.

Personality

Social