[hider=Arlen Vanwye][color=lightgray][center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/230430/02c61fe27860edb919e877d1e87a6bd0.png[/img][/center][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/8908Ts9.png[/img][/center]
[center][h3]Arlen Vanwye [color=af002a]⋆[/color] 122 [color=af002a]⋆[/color] Male [color=af002a]⋆[/color] Light elf[/h3][/center]

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/6B2q3xb.png[/img][/center]

[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/230430/a18f49e1a917a58241681673e1c2c271.png[/img][/center]
[b][color=af002a]Height:[/color][/b]
[indent]5'6 (167 cm)[/indent]
[b][color=af002a]Build:[/color][/b]
[indent]Wiry[/indent]
[b][color=af002a]Hair Color:[/color][/b]
[indent]Black[/indent]
[b][color=af002a]Hair Length:[/color][/b]
[indent]Mid-back[/indent]
[b][color=af002a]Eye Color:[/color][/b]
[indent]Crimson[/indent]
[b][color=af002a]Skin Tone:[/color][/b]
[indent]Pale[/indent]
[b][color=af002a]Distinguishing features:[/color][/b]
[indent][color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] His ruby eyes.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] A petite, slender figure.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] A pretty face.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Delicate bone structure.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Some old scars (whip marks on his back, knife wounds on his chest).
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] A healed cut under his right eye.[/indent]
[hr]
[table][row][/row][row][cell]
[b][color=af002a]Likes:[/color][/b]
[indent]
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Adventure.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Freedom.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Indulging his curiosity.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Good food, nice clothing, shiny trinkets.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] The sky and the sea.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Sweets.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] High places.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Music and songs.
[/indent]

[b][color=af002a]Fears:[/color][/b]
[indent]
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Maiming.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Torture.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Being broken.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Starvation.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Capture.
[/indent]

[/cell][cell][center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/230427/10f1ea3cc9cc3936cae0c384059f085a.png[/img][/center][img]https://i.imgur.com/4DeY8cT.jpg[/img]
[/cell][cell]
[b][color=af002a]Dislikes:[/color][/b]
[indent]
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Being afraid, acting like a coward.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Falling for someone’s act.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Small, enclosed spaces.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Being on his own for too long.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Nihilism, pessimism.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Opening up; sharing personal, unhappy stories.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Avalia's tyranic oppressors and their willing lackeys.
[/indent]

[b][color=af002a]Habits/Quirks:[/color][/b]
[indent]
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Barely ever sits properly.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Likes to get on top of various furniture.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Seeks out good vantage points.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Sticky fingers.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Sleeps lightly, with his weapons close by.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Sometimes hums under his breath.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] Moves quietly without even thinking about it.
[/indent]
[/cell][/row][/table]
[hr]
[b][color=af002a]Sexuality:[/color][/b] 
[indent]Bisexual[/indent]

[b][color=af002a]Personality:[/color][/b] 
[indent] Brash | Lighthearted | Capricious | Adaptable | Self-indulgent | Sharp-tongued | Roguish

Arlen is lively and active, and wants to get the most out of life. He seems happy-go-lucky, and full of a youthful, brazen confidence. But he is rather adept at judging situations, and getting out of them before they turn awry. Danger does have an appeal to him, and he is a bit of a thrill-seeker. Still, he has a persistent survival instinct, and when that kicks in, there needs to be a [i]very[/i] good reason for him to stick around. He has a penchant for nice things, and prefers to get [i]something[/i] out of the work he does. He’s got the backs of those who have his, and does what he can for the resistance, but isn’t altruistic per se.

He is open, amicable, and affectionate, and can easily chat up strangers. He likes casual, friendly, or even flirty banter and touches, and enjoys a good laugh. He can be playful, mischievous, and teasing; sometimes provocative. However, Arlen is by no means trusting, despite the outward friendliness. He is socially cunning, learning what makes people tick. He may prod others to test them and their reactions. He is mercurial, and gets moody, at times childishly sulking. But he rarely stays upset for long. Anger in the form of hate or vengefulness gets channeled into the desire to kill, though.

Arlen can be patient, but often isn’t. He seems to get jittery with nothing to do. If pressed, he can remain eerily still and silent. It’s a bad time for him though, and he needs his outlets. His formal education is limited, and his knowledge more so practical than theoretic. But he is clever and quick to pick up on things. He is curious, but not dedicated to learning. Certainly crafty; not scholarly. Arlen’s reflexes and instincts are one point, but he also tends to be too quick to act out on his ideas. He likes to think he is charming, and strives to be. But he’s kind of a brat, too. He will persuade, manipulate, or even deceive if that’s what it takes. He struggles with trauma, and has some related issues, but it’s not usually apparent – which is by design.[/indent]

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/6B2q3xb.png[/img][/center]

[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/230430/63119b00d68aaea26b97db4743d9e30f.png[/img][/center]
[b][color=af002a]Occupation:[/color][/b]
[indent]Acrobat (former)
Thief (former)
Pirate (current)[/indent]

[b][color=af002a]Living Immediate Family Members:[/color][/b]
[indent]A few relatives he hasn't met[/indent]

[b][color=af002a]Dead Immediate Family Members:[/color][/b]
[indent]Gwyn Vanwye - older sister
Sulien Vanwye - father
Nuria Vanwye - mother
Aurelian & Iselin Vanwye - paternal grandparents
Armand & Genevieve Dalmas - maternal grandparents[/indent]

[b][color=af002a]Current Companions:[/color][/b]
[indent]The Saltrunner's crew[/indent]

[b][color=af002a]Current and Past Lover(s):[/color][/b]
[indent]Several dalliances[/indent]

[b][color=af002a]Current Equipment:[/color][/b][indent]
A pair of [url=https://i.imgur.com/2JKnP1O.png]short swords.[/url]
A pair of [url=https://i.imgur.com/25iypLP.jpg]daggers,[/url] concealed.
A pair of [url=https://i.imgur.com/7wXI3ik.jpg]pistols[/url].
Coin pouch.[/indent]

[b][color=af002a]History:[/color][/b][indent]
[color=c83f49][b]Early life[/b][/color]
[hider=0 - 11 years]Arlen was born on the outskirts of the Sun Elf Kingdom to an elf couple who had had only one other child so far; his older sister Gwyn. They lived in a charming cottage within a small but tight-knight community. His parents were entertainers – musicians – and they performed at various festivals, events, and establishments. It wasn’t rare that they were hired by the middle district venues, and likely could have made a living there. But they always said nature was their muse. They also seemed to appreciate the serenity of a quieter, more sparsely populated location.

Arlen has fond memories of running into the nearby forest, trying to jump from tree to tree like the squirrels, taking a dip in the streams, or following the brooks to their sources. His favourite spot was a waterfall running over a steep cliffside into a crystalline lake. How many times he’d climbed up there only to make a leaping run into the water…Usually joined by his sister, who looked after him with fond exasperation.

As much as they enjoyed the local forest, the city had a special draw for both siblings. There was always so much going on! So many fascinating sights, people, and activities. Arlen marveled over it all. But what inspired his passion was the time he caught a circus performance. The acrobatic spectacles he’d witnessed had him decide then and there that was the thing he wanted to do for life. His parents certainly weren’t opposed, and supported him in his endeavors. 

Much as they had done for Gwyn when she had decided to become a soldier.

No one thought much of his sister’s life path.[/hider]
[color=c83f49][b]The war and its aftermath[/b][/color]
[hider=12 - 23 years]But then, the dark elves declared a war on all of Avalia.

Tensions were rising, and it was as if terror had embedded itself into the mind of the general populace.

Arlen was afraid for Gwyn, and so were their parents. She was a young trainee, yet that wasn’t a position without its dangers. Thankfully, their paternal grandparents promised to look out for her, and came out of their peaceful retirement to return to serve in the army. Meanwhile, their parents remained at home with Arlen.

The war ended within five years with the dark elves victorious. When the Sun Elf Kingdom had fallen, they had to dismiss their military force. Gwyn had come home alive and hale, if distraught. Their grandfather had perished. Their grandmother has been hospitalized, heavily injured. In the end, she hadn’t made it either. The time they’d stood on her deathbed, her body failing and mind feverish, was the only one Arlen remembers having seen his father weep.

Both during and after the war, work was scarcer. Their parents still strived to connect people with music, but far less had the means to pay for it. The countless dead were only one cost of the war. The economy had suffered a blow. Natural resources were lost, reduced, or tainted. 

The outskirts were struck the hardest. Swathes of forest had been cut through, so many fields burned and razed to the ground. Because they’d been in the way. Their local hospital was overfull, their communities broken apart or gone entirely. Hunting, agriculture, and various odd jobs altogether were barely enough for them to scrape by.

The worst of it all was the paranoia. In their village, where once upon a time, they could count on each other with their lives and more, there was now a miasma of suspicion. The rumours that their government had let them down, had been bribed by the dark elves, only deepened the mistrust. One elf – a local barkeep – had even volunteered to serve as an advisor to the new government.

Dark elven terrors became commonplace. Traitors were being hunted down, many publicly and brutally executed. People deemed suspicious were being taken in, some never to be seen again. Other returned, broken. Supplies were pillaged, or simply forcefully collected as a tribute. People were being stolen; kidnapped at a moment’s inattention. There were countless acts of casual violence inflicted.

One fateful day, his sister Gwyn was targeted. Accused of treason, she was taken. She’d apparently been witnessed attending odd meetings. She and some others – a group of would-be rebels – were apprehended.

Knowing his sister, it was not unimaginable that she’d genuinely had her heart set on resistance. But to learn of it like this? Due to some strangers’ condemnation? And then, his family and he were questioned, their house searched. Supposedly, there’d been enough evidence against her to [i]remove[/i] her. Meanwhile, his family was let go, knowing they would be [i]watched[/i].

Had his sister truly been a rebel? Had she not said anything to protect them? Had she been falsely accused? Who had it been to betray her? Was it one of their neighbours? A supposed friend? Was it all dark elven fabrication, a tactic to break them down and subjugate them?

None of it mattered, really.

One day, his sister was simply gone. Disappeared, forever. His sister, so resilient, ardent, and brave; a soul so heroic she’d no doubt have tales written of her had she lived to pursue her ideals.

His sister, dead.[/hider]
[color=c83f49][b]The journey[/b][/color]
[hider=24 - 80 years]Neither he nor his parents could possibly stand to remain in their old home, then. So, they set out, making their living as traveling performers. Their earnings were paltry, and Gwyn’s absence was palpable, but it was better than remaining back there, in [i]that[/i] house, in [i]that[/i] village. There was the pervasive sense that if [i]only[/i] they’d left sooner–

But even their grief and guilt were allayed with time. As a family unit, they could support and trust each other. They worked together often; his parents with their music, he with his gymnastics. His parents now warier of the world’s dangers, Arlen was intensively taught combat as a means of self-defense.

They spent years traveling, from city to city, from village to village. There were some areas where they preferred spending longer periods of time in, such as the River Fairy Kingdom (known as “Riverbloom” after the war). On one memorable occasion, they’d even been to Aldrakh. There was little good will between orcs and light elves, but it just so happened that the orcs had a large feast, and were in a good enough mood to ‘invite’ some stray guests. After the initial fear, it was admittedly fun, but Arlen was still glad that they’d not been held up there for too long.

They did return to their homeland once in a while, though never to the village they’d used to live in. It was nostalgic in some ways, but also painful. Thus, their visits to the Sun Elf Kingdom (now named “Illuminata”) were never lengthy.

However, traveling the world also gave them the perspective of how the tyranny they’d experienced back home was now present everywhere. Senseless suffering and violence were all too common, no matter where they went. Even as years passed, their new overlords didn’t give the impression that they’d ever come off their power high. The abuses of power would keep happening.

Nothing would change – unless it was changed.

They decided as a family to work towards the rebel cause, if less overtly than Gwyn might have done. They gathered intelligence where they could, and passed it onto whichever rebel group or individual had a use for it. Of course, they encrypted their intel, used disguises, had secret meeting locations, and so on and so forth. All the while they still acted as legitimate performers.

Despite all these precautions, misfortune struck. Their caravan was attacked on a secluded path by a group of bandits. Arlen had been in the back of the carriage, and had only heard some sort of commotion at first. Then, his mother managed to rush in, urging him into a hidden compartment. 

Her last words to him were: “Please…You must live. Keep the light with you, always.”

She was killed while pretending she was trying to gather up hidden documents to escape with. 

Paralyzed with shock, fear coursing through his very bones, Arlen remained compactly concealed in the cache, barely breathing. His mother’s blood slowly pooled over the wooden slating of the floor. The red life liquid slowly spread and oozed, staining the wood. Through a tiny opening, it dripped drop by drop into his hiding place. All he could do was watch wide-eyed, not daring to make a single sound.

Objectively, the attack did not last long.

But to Arlen, it felt like an eternity.

He was still trembling long after the attackers had departed. A few hours of silence later, he finally emerged.

His mother’s corpse was the first one he’d happened upon. It was right there, next to where he’d been hiding, after all. Tears silently streaming down his cheeks, he stroked her face. It was already cool.

The mercenary who’d killed her was collapsed next to her, slain. As if by instinct, Arlen rifled through the dead man’s clothes, searching for anything useful. For any identified marks of the group who’d attacked them.

Then, he headed outside. He was so dizzy, so sick…He stumbled out of the carriage and threw up.

He went to his father’s body next. Got a last, one-sided hug from him too.

There were a few other dead assailants around the carriage. The ones his parents managed to fend off. He collected some things from them too.

Then, he broke up the now useless carriage with a looted axe. He built a pyre, and held a small, unofficial ceremony for his parents. He sat by the fire till their bodies were consumed. Voice halting and rough, breaking up with each sentence, he sang them their favorite songs. And lastly, a very long, traditional olden elvish elegy for the departing souls.

After the ashes had cooled, he gathered up the remaining bone fragments, and wrapped them up caringly. When he could, he’d bring them back to their homeland and bury them there. It was the best he could do for them.

He took whatever supplies and weapons he could, and went on his way.

He’d left the killed bandits where they’d been. He didn’t care if [i]they[/i] rotted.

For the next several decades, Arlen traveled mostly by his lonesome. Whatever companions he found were fleeting, temporary acquaintances.

His first mission – to bury his parents’ remains within the Sun Elf Kingdom – was done within the month. 

The second mission – to find those remaining mercenaries, and finish them – took years.

It was a great relief when he had accomplished both.

Afterwards, he ran as wild as one might expect from an adolescent let loose. He partied, he gambled, he flirted and got around, he tried all sorts of substances. It was a way of coping with his loss, trying to keep a positive outlook on life.

He turned his acrobatic talents to thievery, because illegitimate work simply paid more, and was easier to come by. That, and he saw no reason to limit himself to so-called honest work.

However, one time he got too careless, too cocksure. Or maybe he was just unlucky. 

On one of his grand schemes, he was discovered, captured, and thrown into prison.[/hider]
[color=c83f49][b]From captive to pirate[/b][/color]
[hider=81 - 122 years]At first, Arlen was left bored and idle in a regular prison, waiting out his sentence. He had nothing better to do, so he [i]might[/i] have been snarky with some of the guards.

The day approached when he thought he’d be freed. However, he was taken for a ‘transfer’. Having a terrible feeling about it, he attempted an escape. But it only ended with him getting beat within an inch of his life, tied up, drugged, and thrown into a crate for good measure.

The journey was rough, and he was left there for [i]hours[/i], half-conscious at best.

When he came to, exhausted, he found himself within Roshmi’s Black Market.

He was packed into a cage with many others, where they merely awaited their turn to be auctioned off. Arlen had hope that someone from the outside would buy him, because he figured that’d make fleeing easier.

However, he’d had no such luck. He was purchased by the owner of ‘Forbidden Delights’, a brothel more expensive than the Love Rooms, but also offering [i]special[/i] services and goods. In his three years there, he truly learned the meaning of lying, and putting on an act. 

His mind sharpened, though he unfortunately grew thinner and frailer – they didn’t want him in a good enough shape to do anything damaging. He was kept inside ‘his’ room most of the time, where he attended various customers. He also had jobs as an escort within the Market. The latter he actively sought out, because it was an opportunity for him to learn the mazelike layout of the underground tunnels.

It was this single-minded determination to escape which kept him (mostly) sane and functional. The desire to get out burned away everything else. The lingering pain of the death of his family was thoroughly erased. He’d also ceased to care what happened to him (or anyone else) within the Black Market. As long as he managed to free himself, it would [i]all be fine[/i]. And so, he planned, gathered information, and made whatever preparations he could.

He was waiting for the ‘right’ opportunity, but circumstances forced his hand. One day, a certain noble dark elven man came looking for him, having heard of him from acquaintances. This wasn’t unusual in and of itself, but when Arlen was introduced to this man…The way the dark elf looked at him chilled his blood. And that after having met his share of thoroughly vile people.

“His eyes are all I want,” the noble said coldly. He’d been looked at as an object, even a collectible before, but this…There was no humanity, no desire, no [i]nothing[/i] in that soulless gaze. A mild curiosity, perhaps, but mostly the certainty that his order would be abided. The self-assurance that because the dark elf wanted it, he [i]would[/i] obtain it. A conceited possessiveness, as if it was his natural right to take what he saw as his.

[i]Terror[/i] took a hold of him, utterly and completely. 

Shocked as he was, his mind somehow still followed the conversation well enough to realize that a successful bargain was reached. He turned a surprised look on his ‘owner’.

Oh.

How naïve.

Even everything that had already happened to him, he had still believed that [i]some[/i] form of bodily integrity and safety would be granted to him.

As if a [i]slaver[/i] would.

The noble man had hid held down. One of his attendants approached him with a scalpel, the blade was [i]right there by his eye[/i]–

In a singular, intense moment of rejection, a powerful blast of light magic escaped him, blinding and even injuring all around him. No one expected it, least of all Arlen. He did, however, immediately recognize the chance for what it was, and [i]ran[/i].

It was desperation which fueled him, but cunning which guided him. He’d already engraved all he’d learned of Roshmi’s Black Market into his mind; all the routes he’d seen, the patrols he’d learned of, the hiding locations. Everything he knew, he used; whatever he didn’t, he improvised.

It was due to cleverness and luck both that he succeeded. He had a very tight time frame to run away further once he made it into the Roshmi City proper. While official patrols might not bother with a runaway slave, no doubt some excuse would be found to pursue him regardless.

He lay low where he could for the next few days. The news that a certain establishment within the Black Market had been destroyed by a ‘highly offended’ noble reached him. Arlen had a very good laugh over that. Even more hilarious was when official wanted posters with a listed bounty for him started making their appearance.

It was that which made him realize that in a twisted way, he did have power over his would-be maimer. Arlen was perfectly happy to leave him in the dust as he made his escape. Let the dark elf obsess over him if he would; he had finally regained his freedom, and he’d let [i]nothing[/i] get in the way of it.

Within the year, he had himself smuggled to Port Vanarosa. There, he enjoyed an honestly dishonest life for a while. Eventually, he happened to meet Captain Drosis, who was looking for fresh recruits. Arlen was at the point of his life where he was both looking for something more fulfilling than petty thievery, and a decent group to do it with. 

Trustworthiness was the issue, and the captain and he had a discussion in which they were both clearly gauging the other. In the end, they came to a mutual agreement; Arlen was deemed good enough to be accepted, and similarly, he thought it worth the risk to give a try to working under the captain. 

Granted, he’d nearly ditched upon learning the man had dark elves as part of his crew. However, he did believe Drosis wasn’t working [i]for[/i] Avalia’s resident oppressors in any capacity. Besides, just as he’d learned that not only dark elves worked for their new tyrant, he was able to recognize that not [i]all[/i] dark elves supported Zanithel’s reign.

Since then, the 34 years he’s been part of the Saltrunner were enough to build both trust and comradery between him and the rest of the crew. He now genuinely respects and even admires his captain. Especially ever since he’s found out the man was actively works for the resistance; for Arlen, knowing that he was once again a rebel was practically like returning to his roots. He’s also developed a fairly good friendship and healthy rivalry with both Tanithil and Amisra. Though they’re still bound to clash, it’s not generally a cause for bad blood between them.[/hider]

[/indent]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/6B2q3xb.png[/img][/center]

[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/230430/76adadc3f56cd4dbdc957c911ce52b19.png[/img][/center]
The below questions will ask you to name the number of years of experience with certain stats and to describe your athletic behavior. The GMs will present your character’s stats based on the information you provide below. Please try to keep this realistic. We will call you out if it sounds implausible. We may reach out to you for additional questions if need be.

[color=af002a][b]Fitness Level:[/b][/color][indent]
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] [color=c83f49][b]Very active.[/b][/color] He has a daily routine of exercises to keep himself limber, and performs feats of acrobatics for fun. That and a plethora of physical tasks associated with his profession keep him in shape.[/indent]

[color=af002a][b]Physical strengths:[/b][/color][indent]
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] [color=c83f49][b]Agility.[/b][/color] Arlen has been an acrobat a good portion of his life. From his illegal pursuits, he knows how to scale buildings, lose a trail in a city, maneuver on the confines of a ship, and more. He’s quick on his feet, and very evasive. His balance is exceptional, and he’s quite dexterous too.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] [color=c83f49][b]Speed.[/b][/color] He’s often had to run away from law enforcement. To do that successfully, swiftness is essential.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] [color=c83f49][b]Stealth.[/b][/color] Because magic is not his forte, Arlen has learned all the conventional methods of stealth first. How to move quietly, how to blend in with a crowd, how to track someone unnoticed…
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] [color=c83f49][b]Strength.[/b][/color] To perform the feats Arlen does, a well-developed body is required. It may be a specialized athletic strength, but it is strength nonetheless.[/indent]

[color=af002a][b]Physical weaknesses:[/b][/color][indent]
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] [color=c83f49][b]Raw power.[/b][/color] There are simply limits to what someone of his size and build can do. Arlen is lean, not bulked with muscle, and thus exerting tremendous force – such as in lifting, carrying, or pushing against very heavy objects (or people) – is challenging at best, impossible at worst.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] [color=c83f49][b]Endurance.[/b][/color] There have been periods in Arlen’s life where he has subsisted on an incredibly poor diet; his years in prison especially. Though he’s recovered since then, the past malnutrition has left its marks. In longer engagements, he needs to take tactical breathers here and there, even if they’re short.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] [color=c83f49][b]Durability.[/b][/color] He’s been in his share of scuffles, and has developed a decent level of pain tolerance. However, he just isn’t all that tough, and prefers to avoid hits and injuries regardless.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] [color=c83f49][b]Magic.[/b][/color] He’s had a late start for one, since it wasn’t a skill prioritized in his education. He also simply seems to have less affinity for it.[/indent]

[color=8a0303][u][color=8a0303][b]Years of Experience:[/b][/color][/u][/color]
[b][color=af002a]Weapons:[/color][/b][indent]
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] [color=c83f49][b]Bladed weaponry:[/b][/color] At a young age, bladed melee weapons were what his parents first introduced him to. He’s stuck to that throughout his whole life so far, whether it be in the form of a knife, dagger, or a sword. 100 years.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] [color=c83f49][b]Short swords/daggers:[/b][/color] Dual wilding specifically has been his preference for 44 years.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] [color=c83f49][b]Pistols:[/b][/color] He’s come across his two darlings some 20 years ago, when he helped his crew liberate some war supplies that were being shipped to a dark elf enforcement camp. He fell in love at first sight, and simply had to have them for himself. Ever since obtaining them, he’s been practicing his marksmanship, and even though he’s self-taught, he’s become a good shot.[/indent]

[b][color=af002a]Hand-to-Hand combat:[/color][/b][indent]
Hand-to-hand isn’t Arlen's primary means of fighting, but he has some practice with it. He knows how to evade, deflect, redirect, and use an opponent’s strength against them. 25 years.[/indent]

[b][color=af002a]Magic:[/color][/b][indent]
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] [color=c83f49][b]Offensive Photokinesis:[/b][/color] By far his best and most used magic. He uses it in conjunction with physical combat, though more so as a supplement. 36 years.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] [color=c83f49][b]Illusions & Invisibility:[/b][/color] After some dedicated effort, he has finally become capable of performing short-term invisibility. He doesn’t have the finesse for illusions yet. 8 years.
[color=ffbf00]⊛[/color] [color=c83f49][b]Shielding:[/b][/color] He tends to shield magically only when needed. This cost-efficiency means he’s taken longer to develop his skill. But he can employ shields practically on reflex when he has to. They’re quite sturdy, though not sizable. 22 years.[/indent]

[b][color=af002a]Best Abilities:[/color][/b]
[indent]Bladed melee, Offensive photokinesis, Marksmanship[/indent][/color][/hider]