Calleis An'aidei

Calleis An'aidei is an infuriatingly put-together elf. All the cliches about pristine, pale, haughty ice princes with not a hair out of place find quite a home with this elf. Of average height and slim build, he keeps his waist-length white blonde hair pulled back in intricate braids to display the impossible sharpness of his cheekbones. Plush, peach lips often wear a secretive smile on pale skin spared a proper kiss from the sun.

Calleis tends to favor robes that split at the waist or end around mid-thigh, all the better to show off slim, trim legs in nice slacks. His voice is typically musical, a little low for the breadth of his chest to be carrying. Though he doesn't make much of a fuss of it, his left hand from just above the wrist down is clearly a prosthetic made of truesilver and mithril.

In short, he's a cliche, pretty bugger and no one would blame you if you find that annoying. Or appealing. I'm not the boss of you.

http://the-sangromancer.tumblr.com

Pronunciation: "Cahl-lay Ahn-aye-day"
House: An'aidei (pre-Sundering Elvish)
Nicknames: Silverhand, Ice Prince, Too Damn Pretty
Piercings: One per earlobe.
Scars: Left hand severed just above the wrist. Large bite scar on left thigh.
Affiliations: Silver Covenant, Alliance, Tirisgarde
Languages: Thalassian, Common, Darnassian, some Dwarven

At a Glance:
Smells like... A light men's cologne with a base of sharp lavender and soft wood; a soapy shampoo; and the faint metallic scent of blood. Or maybe that's just his hand.
Too perfect, too pure... This elf fits the cliche of a pale, pretty man so well that it's a little obnoxious. He might be doing it on purpose.
Prosthetic left hand. His left hand from just above the wrist down is clearly a prosthetic made of truesilver and mithril. It's also clearly very heavily enchanted. Warm to the touch and precisely formed to match his real hand in size and shape, it could almost be a silvery glove.
Not welcome here! Yup! He's a quel'dorei. Blue-eyed elf. Alliance-siding traitor. Silver Covenant filth. By all rights, I should've rolled him on the Alliance - but have you SEEN human males? Eugh! Besides, all my friends are red.

House An'aidei was so ancient and storied a name that its translation was lost to the Sundering. Its line endured war and infertility, scandal and honor, surplus and poverty. What it could not endure was the Scourge. The armies of Arthas Menethil destroyed An'aidei down to the last man. Well... Almost the last. One reprobate fourth son of no account happened to be vacationing at Quel'Danil Lodge at the time. While much of the rest of his elven brethren turned to the fel to survive, he was among the principled few who turned their backs and fought their addiction nobly. Or at least, who couldn't get away from them and ended up among the high elves by default rather than political choice.

An enchanter of excellent skill, he's mostly known these days for providing battlefield enchantments to weapons and armor, creating arrows that banish demons and axes that silence on impact.

Those who fought in Northrend may recognize him as a fervent combatant who threw himself heedlessly into danger - which resulted in the loss of his left hand to a frostbrood ravager. He was a fixture in the campaign in Deepholm, endlessly fascinated by the realm of stone. Nobody knows where the hell he went after; he was not seen again by anyone who kept those sorts of records until somebody thought to take an accounting of quel'dorei after Proudmore kicked the sin'dorei Sunreavers out of Dalaran and some enterprising person wondered why the hell that pointy-eared guy was hanging around the Throne of Thunder.