Name: Heh, Drevayne Telvanni proud to be at your service, if you've got a tale in the making.

Race: Dunmer, and proud of it, thank you very much, ha!

Age: And the inevitable follow up to that question that I never tire of answering, I've been around to see that whippersnapper Tiber Septim conquer the world. When I was a young buck, I served under Almalexia against Ada'Soom Dir-Kamal... (Commence old man rambling for the next several hours)

Gender: Male, thank you very much.

Origin: Tel Aruhn, in Vvardenfell, in Morrowind, in Tamriel, in Nirn, to be perfectly specific, it was many years ago that I was born to my parents, I'm told it was a rainy eve, and... (Commence old man rambling for the next several hours)

Religious Beliefs: I'll bow to The Nevervarine, and anyone he bows to. Sold him a spell once, I did. Still got the coins. He also cleared the rats from my cellar, right proper chap. Never did find my old sword after that though, maybe he's borrowing it? Anyway, well, see, those other gods don't do anything for ya, but Nerevar's got your back right proper.

Class: Ah, the heady thrill of front line combat, trusty steel in hand and a good suit of armor, I do miss it. But even a Dunmer as I am begins to show his age, and I have practiced the trade of the healer and Restoration for a long time. Though make sure you respect your elders, I still retain a spell or two of the fiery Destruction, heh, heh, heh.

Fighting Style (and specifics): Once upon a time, I was a reckless young buck in Almalexia's army, I hammered away with two handed blade without a care in the world for defense. Good armor only let me down a few times, and I lowered myself to use the healers art for that. Whenever the opponent kept his distance like a coward, hit 'em with a firebolt! Still, I'm a bit older now, and many years of relative peace have made me a healer above all else despite how I thought it beneath me then, heh. I know the old school spells too, making muscles bulge with power and filling legs with speed. Still got the firebolts too. Can't say I've used one in decades, but I'm sure I remember'm proper.

Weapons: Mmm, this? Oh, it's just a walking stick, not some staff. I'm no enchanter. I know it looks a bit odd, but its all I've got left of my hold home. Heh.

Affiliations: Mmmm... I remember the good old days of the Ebonheart Pact, them's was some fun wars, heh. And I've served in Morrowind's armies more times than I care to mention now. As far as the Telvanni go, I think my family never got out of their towers enough to see the world. Haha, not like House Telvanni means anything these days. Oh, you meant recently? Um.. Heh... Well.. Er.. Who's king right now? Suppose I'm on his side.

Bio: Eh? Why I'm in Skyrim? You've not heard of the Red Year, I presume, then. (Lots of the rest of his backstory are presented in tidbits in the segments they are most relevant to.)

Personality: Mmm.. When most people hear Telvanni, they think of crazy old wizards locked up in mushroom towers who hate everybody else. Fortunately for me, I was a young fool who ran away to stab people and sneak a peak or two at Almalexia in the wars. During the Ebonheart Pact, I fought alongside pretty much every race at least once or twice, and against plenty of times. After awhile, you learn everybody bleeds pretty much the same, albeit with slight idiot-synchronies. Got a taste for wild living, so I fought my fair share, drank a nord or two under the table, after a few hundred attempts, ha!, and fought a couple times more than my fair share. To be honest, I got along better with most of the non-elves in our company. I've been called Dark Elf by many a friend and I don't hold it against 'em when they call it like it like they see it. But age caught up with me, though not as fatally as it did for all my friends of that war, and I've slowed down. I'll still sometimes dream of a warriors death, but I'd probably look a fool in battle-armor. But perhaps one last adventure wouldn't go awry. Heh.

Appearance: Heh, OLD is how I look. Suppose I got the red eyes of any given Dunmer, and the ashen skin. My hair, once fire red, is now a spark-ridden white. But, eh, who cares about whining about being old? Let me show you the scar I got from an Akaviri at the battle that lead to the foundation of the Ebonheart pact! I've got a dozen and more good stories to tell, remembered on my skin so my old brain doesn't have to, heh.

Other: (Anyone up for having shared backstory? Drevayne's not one to withhold healing or overcharge for it.)