User:Kianthil2

Biography
Kianthil. The name rings true in the name of many beings, young and old alike, from the farthest corners of Azeroth. Spanning several ages, the elf is thought to be a legend...which is false. It is speculated that the name is a family name, a family of great warmongering elves.

This is also false.

There has only ever been one Kianthil. He has been known as many things; a great hunter, at peace with nature. A cryptstalking Death Knight, the bane of all natural life. And most recently, a mage with a hot streak for vengeance. The elf has graced the lives of many, and left many more rotting in the dirt. His history is bloody, and large chunks have been lost. For long periods of years, he has disappeared off the face of Azeroth, only to resurface years later with a new goal and new skills. It is unknown where he disappeared to at these times.

This is his story.

It is unknown exactly when the elf that was destined to become Kianthil was born, only that he was birthed on Quel'Danas, in a rare time of piece. Born roughly ten years before the First War, the elf enjoyed most of his childhood with the only danger being the infrequent Troll attacks. He showed prowess with a bow from a young age, and formed a bond with the local wildlife of his homeland, particularly the Dragonhawks.

When the First War began, Quel'Danas was mostly untouched, and he grew into adolescence without much more trouble. One thing that troubled the young elf, however, was the growing frequency of the Troll attacks past the runestones.

The First War ended when the elf was sixteen or so, and the trolls lead a small attack against a southern Eversong Village, which he repelled alongside his fellow rookies from Quel'Danas. It was about this time that he began to learn battle strategy from his older brother, Krow, as his father had died fighting alongside the Alliance.

The next few years passed without much change, as the budding Farstrider became more and more competent. By the time the Second War rolled around, he was one of the Farstriders, banded with several of his childhood friends. Sent into war by the Ranger-General, he was the only one to come back alive, out of his party. Not without both physical and emotional scars, the elf wanted nothing more than peace between all, and sought to attain it through whatever means necessary.

Then the Third War struck, and nothing was ever the same again.

The Scourge invaded quickly and effectively, breaking through the Runestone barrier easily due to Dar'Khan Drathir's idiocy. Kianthil and his brother fought tooth and nail to keep the undead out of their homeland alongside most, if not all, of the other elves. Yet the Scourge slogged onward, seemingly unstoppable. Where one fell, dozens more stepped up to take its place. Carving a dead path up the lands of Quel'Thalas, the reached Silvermoon and destroyed it. Krow, by this time, had disappeared. It seemed that he was swept up in the flood of undead and crushed, but as Kianthil would later find out, this was not the case.

Kianthil took part in the final stand on Quel'Danas, before the Sunwell was defiled and all hope was lost for the elves. Beating a tactical retreat into the Eversong Woods, it was there that Kianthil stayed in the company of the beasts until Kael'Thas called the quel'dorei back together to become the sin'dorei. The next few years passed in a blur, until Kianthil was about 40, after the blood elves, as they were now called, had joined the Horde.

The elf then decided to go abroad, helping people wherever he went. He got stronger and more wealthy as he did so, though in the real world and all of its harshness, he could never keep gold for long. He wasn't robbed, but he lost it, gambled it, and spent it all away. He really was a terrible card-sharp. He spent the next year in this fashion until something monumental happened in Tanaris.

He had been hired to take down a criminal that was hiding out in the Cove. The freebooters hadn't known much, and he decided to check on the boats. At this time, he was wearing his desertstalker gear; sand-colored leather. Entering the hold of the ship, the blood elf had looked around and then turned to leave. Instantly, the back of his neck was pierced by a throwing knife. Paralyzed, the hunter fell to the deck. The criminal he was supposed to have been hunting came up beside him, and with a final word in Common, plunged a trench spike into the Farstrider's chest. And the elf knew no more.

Darkness.