Order: The Bloodcrest
Race: Blood Elf
Skills: Jewelcrafting, Mining
Weight: 176 lbs
Build: Lean, Athletic
Height: 6' 4"
Eyes: Luminescent Green
Hair: Golden Blonde
Armor: Dark leathers and cloth, of a general dark red or forest green shading; grey shirt; at times a red and gold mask.
Mavron holds the appearance of eternal youth common to his people. He possesses strong avian features, and an unyielding gaze of luminescent green eyes. In public he stands to his full height, proud and loath to abandon such a stature. Despite this he stance is loose and his movements smooth, indicating his calm confidence. His expression is composed and guarded.
Mavron is eloquent, confident, reserved, and prejudice. Those strangers who are not Blood Elves receive small amounts of civility. In general he treats the other races with less favor and patience than his own people; reluctant, to the verge of being unwilling, to befriend them. When dealing with his own people he is far more civil, and certainly more forgiving of shortcomings.
Mavron pays close attention to hierarchy in any case. He prides himself in his wit; and is marked by a sarcastic disposition. Extended periods of solitude in the wilds gave birth to his reserved personality, and as a result he has little liking for the chaos of bustling cities. He's a calculated sort, as such mercy is not a trait he is renowned for; however this is not to say that he kills indiscriminately.
Mavron's one true loyalty is to his people; thier well being and prosperity. Believing that by serving his people, he also serves the general good of the land... "Our way is the right way." essentially.
Mavron and his Order fight for the well-being of the Horde as well, though rare is the occasion when such assistance is offered openly. Despite this aversion to open service, he and his Rangers do not hesitate to aid the Horde, especially against the Alliance.
The Alliance, any who are a part of or fight with them, are without question betrayers. A deepset hate is harbored for the Night Elves; aversion and distrust to the dwarves; the gnomes are signed off as pathetic; and the humans recieve a festering sense of outrage and hatred.
Mavron was born many centuries after the landing of the Exiled Highborne, and the founding of Quel'Thalas; however... his actual age is in question. Suffice to say he was of maturity and a ranger under the command of Sylvanas Windrunner, at the time of the Second War.
When the Old Horde ravaged the border lands of Quel'Thalas, Mavron answered the call to arms as the High Elves commited thier forces to the war effort. At the onset, he served with his fellow rangers. As the war progressed however he was repeatedly called away from the most obvious points of the fray to farther removed goals, deeper into horde ravaged lands. Eventually he was formally released from the command of Sylvanas Windrunner by King Anasterian in order to simplify the chain of command. At the King's bidding, Mavron formed an Order of Rangers of his own: The Avians. This new Order took the field against the Old Horde, contributing greatly to sowing seeds of chaos amongst thier forces by removing various officers and lesser leaders.
The Third War came, though Mavron and The Avians did not distinquish themselves exceptionally in this conflict... with mindless hordes as enemies, there were plenty to go around... and no opportunities to turn the tide. Repeatedly he requested the oppportunity for The Avians to hunt the betraying Lorderon Prince, Arthas Menethil themselves; requests that were resoundly denied each time.
The destruction of the Sunwell and the slaughter of the High Elves left Mavron and the Avians devastated; the Avians themselves had been killed almost to the man. He and his ravaged fellow rangers vanished from thier people for some months thereafter. Privately they struggled with thier addictions to magic... and thier personal grievances. When he and the Avians returned, bearing the new name of The Bloodcrest, they viciously threw themselves into repelling the remenents of the Burning Legion and Scourge alike. Now that the dust has settled, relatively, he has become far more reserved and less openly passionate though still fiercely loyal.