Name: Lyrael Thalanor
Age: Appears to be 30s or 40s by human standards.
Species: Elf
Role: Ranger (Druidic Warrior)
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Pronouns: He/him
Sex: Male

Outfit:
Long-traveled leathers with layered forest greens, shadowed browns, and moss-toned grays. His cloak carries faint iridescence under moonlight, almost like dew or starlight woven into the fabric. He wears a belt of small bone and crystal charms, likely from the Feywild. Soft boots, fingerless gloves, and a satchel that smells faintly of rain and wild mint.

Image: [hider=Lyrael]
[url=https://flic.kr/p/2rmiRnV][img]https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/54707424675_5d3ee6e035_b.jpg[/img][/url]
[/hider]
Eyes are way brighter in the image, but maybe if you really got him worked up, or something. LOL

Weapons of Choice:
A smooth, knotted wooden quarterstaff, imbued with Fey magic.
A long, slim recurve bow of ancient make, carved from silvery wood.
Rough, hand-crafted daggers for utility, not flair.

Special Skills/Abilities:
Feywild survival instincts, heightened senses, especially in natural or magical environments.
Uses wisdom, dexterity and agility in combat. He is precise, calm, and strategic; no wasted movements.
Staff fighting techniques learned through years of solitude and survival.
No slouch with a bow or blades.
Druidic magic focus: Empowering weapons, Minor nature manipulation like healing and plant growth.
Seems to occasionally "know" things he shouldn’t, as if nudged by some unseen force.

Personality:
Quietly intense; observant before outspoken. A man of few words, but when he speaks, it’s often with purpose. Compassionate, but distant; he carries the stillness of someone who has stood alone under strange stars. Loyal to life, not necessarily to people or politics. Carries the burden of being needed more than known.

History:
Once an elven wanderer with a love of wild places, Lyrael vanished one day in a forest that may no longer exists on most maps as far as he knows. The Feywild took him—or welcomed him—and he endured it for what felt like years. Whether it was by fate, design, or something else entirely, he returned. Same plane, different time. How long has it been? He’s not sure. He just knows something needs protecting now—and he is ready.

Fears:
Losing himself again—either to the Feywild or to a purpose too great.
That he was brought back not to save, but to destroy.
Forgetting who he was before it all. He has painstakingly made sure to remember his name and who he was before he walked into the Feywild.

Hobbies:
Whittling charms from bone or wood.
Watching wildlife.
Studying dreams, omens, and seasonal patterns.
Meditating in high places, like treetops or ridgelines.

Extra:
A long, twisting scar runs from shoulder to mid-back—something Fey-born gave him.
Faint runic tattoos on his hands and collarbone, only visible under moonlight.
Carries a single dried flower pressed in a glass vial, origin unknown.
Eyes slightly luminescent in darkness—not fully Fey, but touched.

Feel free to choose how long he's been gone and work it into the narrative! XD