- Name: Eminroda Dre'tur Skychill
- Age: Six hundred years.
- Hair color: A very light, almost white, silver.
- Eye color: Bright yellow.
- Skin color: Light blue.
- Height: 7'2"
- Spouse: Deceased.
- Children: None.
- Siblings: None.
- Parents: Alive.
Short cut silver, almost white, hair is kept well together - the lot of it falling into a short ponytail. A charming smile, kind eyes and an almost humoured expression makes this Elf seem quite approachable. The only way to perceive this Kal'dorei would be friendly, kind, good company. But, if you're like most, something does not seem right. Several centuries of life, perhaps he can not be as care free as he would seem.
An aged burn mark is seen visible on the left side of his neck if his collar makes it so.
Around his neck is a locketted pedant hangs from a simple silver chain around his neck, as well as an old tarnished rings hangs from the very same chain.
Dretur is more kind that most. Gentle eyes, a charming smile and a welcoming expression. Quick to share a quiet evening, or a sudden adventure, the loss of immortality has caused Dretur to live in the moment.
When one were to get passed the friendly attitude, they would find what centuries of life would do well to bring. Deep thought, almost sage-like wisdom and a great confidence.
Dretur leaned against the railing of the tavern. The young Paladin seemed so..interested in his tale. It was the first time he felt someone else having a genuine interest in what he said since his wife.
"Well, Paladin .. you want to know six centuries of life?"
The young blond man nodded slowly, smiling a bit. "I do. I really do. We've got the time before dawn hits and the boats take off again."
Dretur grinned slightly. "All right. But I wanna hear what twenty some-odd years of life has brought you. It'll probably be longer than my own story."
The Paladin raised a brow in a sudden curiosity. "How? You have six hundred years to cover! I have twenty."
Dretur's, almost sinister, grin slowly formed a frown. The first time he had frowned in front of anyone in...years. But he failed to realize this. "Six hundred years, young one. Six hundred. I fail to remember so much. But..I can start."
The young man notioned for the innkeeper behind him, implying for her to pour some ale into their mugs. If they weren't so enveloped in what they had been speaking about the whole evening, they may of had felt bad for keeping the innkeeper awake.
Dretur continued. "I remember.." His tall, leaning posture slowly slumped to where he was sitting on the ground. This was going to take a while. "Born..poor. My Mother, my Father and me. My Father was sick one day, extremely ill. It was rumourred a specific herb could make a potion, and it would ale him. Well..this potion was pretty rare, and that, of course, would mean..it was pretty hard to find this one herb.
We never found that. We never came across..I..I never came across..that one herb. My Father eventually passed to this illness. We called for so many to aid him, this simple sickness, but he wouldn't accept it. I thought the moment he passed, recalling those times he wouldn't take any assistance, maybe he held out for me. Maybe he thought I could do it."
Dredin smiled at the innkeeper as he lifted his mug, taking a large drink. "That's when..the sleeping started. The illness my Father had used to cause him to sleep for long periods of time, and forget many things. This started effecting me at a young age. I was taken well care of, drifting in and out of sleep days at a time, where I would soon sleep again..I don't remember any of those days, sleeping, then not sleeping. I just remember..so many years later. I was in Ashenvale, I believe. My Mother was there, and a priestess, too. She looked me over, smiling to my Mother. She said to her..that I was okay. That I was awake, and fully concious.."
Dretur laughed slightly, wearing a slight smirk.
"How wrong she was. But..years went on, as they often do.." ((continuing this evenutally))