With his dyed shock of orange hair, neatly-groomed moustache and perpetual three-day stubble, Alerion cuts a decidedly unconventional figure among his elven kin. The grizzled warrior's rough-hewn features and casual disregard for traditional elven aesthetics hint at his humble origins in the lower classes of the Sylvan realm.

Born to a woodcutter's family with no noble lineage, young Alerion chafed at the prospect of a meandering life of subsistence forestry. His natural talents for combat and a lust for adventure prompted him to join up with the mercenary company known as the Golden Brotherhood at the tender (for an elf) age of 90. Over the next 150 years, Alerion ascended the Brotherhood's ranks through a combination of martial prowess, cunning tactics and sheer tenacity on the battlefield.

It was during a routine caravan escort through the punishing Desert of Dromar that fate, quite literally, dropped into Alerion's lap. The mercenary company stumbled upon the smoldering wreckage of an adolescent iron dragon - its limbs sheared off and once-formidable hide pierced by a score of ballista bolts. Severely wounded but still defiantly clinging to life, the draconic beast turned its ruinous firebreath upon Alerion's men.

Thinking quickly, the elven captain took a running leap and plunged his obsidian blade through one of the gaping wounds on the wyrm's neck. Black, scalding blood sprayed across Alerion as the dragon's piercing screeches were abruptly cut short. His bold act that day earned him glory, riches and a new moniker -- Alerion the Dragonslayer.

From the beast's remains, Alerion had an entirely new suit of armor forged - dragonscale plate crafted from shed dragonskin and rendered nearly impervious to any weapon. He outfitted his most elite warriors in partial dragonscale as well, ensuring the Golden Brotherhood's reputation as a formidable force to be reckoned with.

Now an elf of 261 years with over 170 spent as a mercenary, Alerion the Dragonslayer has become a power player in his own right along the Wearied Sea coasts. His Golden Brotherhood fields over 500 heavily-armored soldiers, making them one of the largest, most elite sellsword companies in the region. Wealthy merchants and beleaguered realms alike vie to employ Alerion's services.

Some say the gruff elf has grander ambitions than merely selling his blade to the highest bidder. When not campaigning, Alerion can often be found poring over maps and reconnaissance in his mobile war-tent, as if plotting future conquests of his own volition.