Radovan is tall and thin, even for an Elf. The stereotypical Elven aloofness that so many make light of is virtually palpable in him. He is not uneasy among other races, he just cares little for their brief, insignificant lives. Radovan doesn’t hate other races. He finds them useful, when one cannot rely on ones own gifts alone. He will make allies as he pleases, allowing them to charge into battle and engaging an enemy personally. Radovan much prefers to hold back and allow his summoned minions to do his fighting for him. He’ll also wield devastating magical attacks when it seems most prudent. He carries a fine longsword, but it is mainly simply a reminder of his Elven heritage, a gift that reminds him of home. On the occasions when he does wield it, however, is when you truly realize that this is no coward. He’s quite gifted in swordsmanship. He’s simply largely outgrown it. It’s much like climbing a tree. It’s quite beneath him.
He lived most of his life in the northern Elven lands, though he’s typically reticent about talking much about it to non-Elves. They simply do not have the capacity to really appreciate the fascinating beauty of the place. When he is around other Elves, however, he loves to wax poetic about his family’s storied history, which no human or dwarf could possibly hope to understand. He studied conjuring in Andwin, and feels that he’s learned all that the city has to offer. He will only seek further understanding through adventuring. He’s come to the least likely place to do it, however…
Radovan met his untimely end at the wrong end of a disintegrate spell. How will Kul’Thedon take the news?