Physical Description: He’s short for an elf, not even 5’, but he’s well-built, muscular and powerful. Even with all that muscle, he carries the grace of the elves, a light, quick step, and always seems to understand where he fits in his surroundings. His sylvan heritage is betrayed by his chestnut hair, long, pointed ears, and bright green eyes. A deep scar runs down the left side of his face, down his neck and into his armor, marring what might have been an attractive countenance. He wears a grey cloak, padded armor over a green tunic, and a brown breeches and leather boots. He looks like he travels light, with a shortbow and backpack on his back and half-concealed weapons at his waist.
Biography: A child of the wild at birth, his wandering tribe of elves stayed hidden from prying eyes, fighting at the edges of civilization, protecting as best they could the mountains of the Shomaal from the advances of the Claacos after the loss of the elven forest homelands. As his people wandered, they began to trade with the barbarians of the Shomaal, seeing them as near-equals and attempted to understand the others culture.
The extended life of wandering and survival reinforced the idea of self-sufficiency: each person takes care of self and kin and contributes what they can to the tribe; when all contribute, then everyone succeeds. If anyone falters, there is enough to help kin. In times of lean, that’s why everyone is trained from the beginning to survive. He’s unapologetic about his practical outlook in life, but understands that sometimes circumstances work against you and holds grudges only in extreme circumstances.
He was mostly recently sent by his tribe of elves to life among another tribe of the Shomaal; there he worked to become an accepted guest of the tribe, living as they did, to encourage further trade and cooperation over scarce resources. While initially successful, catastrophe struck when the tribe risked traveling too far south and was attacked by the Claacos. The attack was unusually unlucky because it was led by a drone. Because of the presence of the drone to coordinate the assault, the tribe was almost wiped out and he was separated from the survivors in the confusion. Managing to find a civilized outpost to recoup and resupply, Corvis bears a vicious new scar, is separated from his own tribe by hundreds of miles, and has sworn a lifetime of revenge against the Claacos. Corvis’s hatred of the Claacos is more than philosophical. He must save vs. poison or vomit if he attempts to eat Claacos which is frequently served throughout the Shomaal.
