~History and Background~

The illegitimate child of a Tyras guardsman and an elven nomad, Lhindir spent much of his early life travelling the lands with his mother. The pair kept mostly to themselves, for she feared greatly of Humanity’s dislike of elves. Mostly, they would generally stay with fellow elven nomads they happened across on their journeys and toward the later days, when he was in his 20’s, Lhindir and his mother would dwell with Saradomist missionaries and, very surprisingly, the dwarves in their mines underneath Ice Mountain.

It was here where Lhindir decided he would stay, over the years learning about his faith from the monks and a few different trades from the dwarves, whom he became very close with and he would quite often carry out tasks for them.

As he grew, so did his desire to learn more about the world. He grew to be a rather quiet adult with a very serious demeanor and a seemingly insatiable thirst to further his life and learn everything he could.

His travels grew longer and longer, well into his late 20’s and early 30’s and on one occasion upon returning home, he learned from his dwarven family that his mother had fallen ill and had been taken to the Edgeville Monestary.

He rushed to her with all the haste his body would allow and when he came to her side, he learned from the monks there that she was perfectly healthy, but had somehow lost the desire to live.

With not so much as a word to anyone, he went into the Monestary garden and began to call out to the god he had been raised to love; spending the next three days praying to Saradomin to spare his mother. After which time, the father of the Monestary came to him with the unavoidable grim news.

After presonally burying his mother, he immediately left in search of a new home, wanting to distance himself from his past and start a new life, of sorts.

His first journey took him to Varrock, where, unable to find a legitimate job because of his elven heritage, he was taken in by a family of lower nobility and worked as their servant into his late 30’s until he grew rather bored, respectfully resigning his position and moving out of Varrock.

After a brief time in Draynor Village, he moved on and eventually wandered into the Kharidian desert and eventually came across the capital city where he fell into a labor job in the rapidly-expanding city. During this tume, he became more and more conformed to human society; so much so that if it weren’t for the very slight point of his ears, which he made sure to hide as often as possible anyway, not one person he interacted with would’ve been able to tell he was anything more than an average Westerner.

After spending a considerable number of years working in and around the city, he began to grow more and more happy and even made a number of friends in the many different business he participated in, gaining favor with one or two of the wealthier merchants that frequented the city, he began travelling with them and eventually ended up in Port Sarim, working on the docks and eventually becoming a customs agent.

It was not until he was into his late 60’s that he made his way North into Falador, and was amazed to find the most beautiful and most organized cities since he left his homeland, which now he only vaguely recalled.

During the next ten or so years, he spent a considerable amount of time in and around the local pub and doing work for several families in the nobility and really enjoying his life for the first time he could ever remember.

Physical Appearance and Personality

He would stand about 6'6" and be surprisingly thin for a "man" of his age. His skin would be fairly dark, evenly tanned from his time in the desert and he would speak in an odd accent; the Asgarnian being the most obvious, however laced with another, deeper accent which would match his very prominent western features.

A fairly easy-going and down-to-earth person, he frequently enjoys spending his time out amongst the town or in the local pub either people-watching or enjoying the company of his very few good friends and throwing back a drink or two once in a while but preferring to sit quietly and smoke his pipe while entertaining himself with made-up stories about his fellow city-goers.

Now around 80 years old, he still maintains a rather quiet demeanor and will enjoy time with people but is extremely adept at taking anything said to him personally, be it good or bad.

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