In the modern tounge, you may know me as “Tharor.” All who have met me, usually remember my eccentric manner. The behavior that was mentioned is directed towards the moon. I openly channel admiration bordering on love towards the moon. Still, I am in service to Lord Lucius Murmilllo even with the circumstances. I mostly scout, and preform odd jobs like collecting feathers. ::It’s a pretty normal life for me, except for one teensy little detail. I am not the day-dreaming man you think I am. My name in an old tounge my family used eras back, literally means: “Black Rose.” Yes, I said “My family.” I know my roots. The eccentrics who took me in were sent to do so. They told me of my parents, and how my name forced them to let me go. My name, in my family, curses the one who bears it. I’m doomed to be a rouge, for as long as Elven longevity allows. Doomed to forever be the highwayman glistening in the moonlight. I wore white clothing to keep guards from arresting me in this corrupt society. I powdered my hair to pass as a High Elf. It isn’t that I’m not a High Elf, it’s that brown hair isn’t common amoungst Elves. ::Perhaps you’re wondering: “Why would your parents name you so, knowing that It curses you?” Truth is, they had no choice. After the curret Tharor dies, the familymust name a new one in the next 100 years. After the current Tharor dies, the family must name a new one in the next 100 years. the do not not, however, tradition states that they will perish and the family will be gone. I was the unlucky child that was born directly after my predecessor died. The family cursed me and destroyed all ties to me, so I could never find them. Even now, after I left my guardians they disappeared from records. I will don the clothes handed down by tradition, and assume my role. ::To Lord Lucius Murmillo: If you need me, I’ll be around. :: Eternally, :: Tharor