As any young Blood Elf, I wished to aspire to be a defender, to rise through the ranks, and become respected and well known through out my people. And I did. I've never regreted anything I've ever done. That is how I succeded. I lived 781 years with my beautiful wife, Pharasaphin, who bore me two sons. I could ask for nothing more or better to say the least. I wish to share my story now.

Unfortunatley, I was raised in an orphanage in my earlier years. No one thought I would become what I was. An orphan? Becoming a general? It was unheard of. One day, a stranger pulled me aside on my sixth birth rite and whispered something in my ear.

"Young one, come with me. I will train you to become a mighty fighter. You will the the top of your league and all will bow at your command." I pondered his offers. I wanted to prove I was more than an orphan. I accepted and the stranger wisked me off on his Wyvren.

I did not see where he was taking me. All I knew was that I could feel the air rush around me as I buried my face into the stranger's cloak. I remember the cloak smelling a bit odd. It was a bit smoky but not the same burning stench as a normal wood fire, this was slightly worse.

I looked around and finally got a good look at this stranger who offered me everything. His eyes glowed the same bright green as most Blood Elves and he had a small gold hoop pierced through his right ear. His hair was a jet black with silver streaks periodically running through it and it was combed back into a tight pony tail.

I came to know this man as Master Forborn. He always reaked of the same smoky scent and sometimes a hint of rum was noticeable on his breath but he trained me.