Sylant

==Basic Statistics==
* Character Name: Roan
* Nickname: Silent
* Birth Name: Roan Su'haik Hadanot
* Race: Blood Elf
* Age: 85 - 103
* Education: None (Learning to read. Maybe)
* Birthplace: Unknown
* Class: Priest
* Title: Scion of the Damned
* Status: Parole (Exile of Orgrimmar)
* Professions: Janitor
==Appearance==
Height: 6'8"
Weight: 150-160lbs
Distinctive Marks:
Numerous scars on chest, back and hands.
Sectoral heterochromia. (white streaks in eye color.)
Cultist shadow stains upon his face. (fading)
==Personality==
"Your lips are moving.
Nothing passes them but breath.
You're walking forward.
Behind you walks the shade of Death.
You're seeking comfort.
Like a widow; lost, alone, bereft.
You're looking inward...
But it feels like there's nothing left.
Inside...
Behind the darkness of your eyes
An even deeper blackness lies.
Inside... 
A frightened, shadow-shrouded heart
Is being slowly torn apart."
(By Ori <3)
==History==
Deathly spires flagged with cobwebs. Skulls branded in grim totemic appeal, to signify this was a place of pain and agony. Heroes arrived again and again, to venture into the horrific realm of Deatholme. It was the only place he’d ever known.
Mail boots sloshed through the mud as it began to rain, and a wave of ghouls and banshees rushed passed the crawling cultist child, who looked in the last of his innocent, young years. Too sickly to live much longer. Splatters of mud hit his pale cheek, and each time, he flinched. Not a geist, not a wretched, but so alike them, he crawled toward a puddle that began to form in the storm. He’d finally been allowed out of those walls, free from the tower of the Damned. But that’s what he was… damned.. Forever more.
His keeper had reminded him of this before sending him on this mission. Pupils shrunk tiny in the cloudy light of the sky, which caused his sunless skin to nearly glow, due to that pale complexion. A chill ran down his back as he laid back in the water. Untidy, neck length hair half soaked through, while the rest fell over his lifeless eyes. Rain pelted his face, and the tattered white shirt he’d worn for years might as well have been a sheet over a skeleton.
Roan raised one hand to block the unfamiliar elements from his eyes, feeling that soft patter of liquid on his palm. Around him, the battle ensued.Until every hero who had been sent to conquer, had fallen. Bodies that would provide armies of scourge.
But he would escape this. And he would live…
==Family==
==Gallery==
Category:Horde Priest
Category:Blood Elf
Category:Horde