- 1 Essentials
- 2 Appearance
- 3 Biographical
- 4 In-Depth
- 5 Tales
- 6 Supplemental/OOC
- Full Name/Surname: Unknown
- Aliases: Solariath Coronus Magnus (an appropriately pretentious alias Facet goes by when dealing "legitmately" in Silvermoon City- he shortens this to "Sol" for more informal settings) , Facet (within the Tong and other criminal circles)
- Title: While Facet sees the value in being known for things, he despises false pretense and sees formal titles as little more than that. To Facet, the character of a person is told in their deeds.
- Allegiances: Facet's allegiances are, at best, ephemeral, and his only true allegiances he plays rather close to the vest. Currently he runs a jewelers in Silvermoon called "Facets" one of the Grey Tiger Tong's legitimate business fronts.
- Race: Blood Elf
- Class: Rogue
- Professions: Jewelcrafting/Mining
- Gender: Male
- Apparent Age: Young, perhaps in his early twenties.
- Height: 6'1"
- Weight: 195lbs.
- Eye Color: Chartreuse
- Hair Color: Black
- Age: 27
- Home: Silvermoon City
- Place of Birth: Silvermoon City
- Parents: Unknown
- Siblings: Unknown
- Other Relations: Unknown
- Language(s): Thalassian, Orcish, Common
- Associates: Kayce, Udelle
- Alignment: N/A
Lean, wiry, and deceptively waifish, Facet thrives on the propensity and likelihood of his opponent underestimating him. Two pale green smiling eyes stare out from under a drape of long dark locks, and a delicate jawline is accented by a small, pointed goatee which he's often fond of stroking while in thought.
As a "legitimate businessman", he knows how to dress formally, choosing finery somewhat reserved for the more expected tastes of his people, but nonetheless blends in. While on the job, Facet chooses to adorn himself with only the most flexible and supple of body protection, well crafted and rugged- and granting him enough range to do the things he needs to.
He's often seen with a small pipette of parchment in his mouth, one usually containing a blend of bloodthistle that is atypically fragrant and invigorating, and not at all acrid. He also speaks with a decidedly human cockney drawl, a characteristic that marks him as quite different from other Sin'dorei. He can, when the occasion calls for it, submerge those turns of phrase for a more cultured-sounding speech, but most of the time, when relaxed, it is his preferred method of communicating.
Much like his appearance, Facet's behavior can also be quite deceptive. He's expertly adept at playing both The Man of Honor and The Brigand, depending upon what is called for in any given situation. Nearly everything about his outward behavior is a carefully plotted facade, designed to confound and manipulate.
What's on the inside remains an enigma to most, save those he truly trusts, and those are few and far between. And while Facet is not a guarded person without good reason, the labyrinth he's built around himself is convoluted and difficult to decipher, and quite often, not entirely in his control. Deception is such a part of who he is that it's reflex now.
Most know him as the smirking trickster, but the roots of his act go deeper than that. Few see the single-minded determination, or the survivalist. Few see an indomitable will. But then again, Facet feels it's always best to be unexpected.
Given his peculiar upbringing, Facet's natural mode of speech is somewhat unique among Sin'dorei. Although he speaks Thelassian (and when doing so it's much easier for him to maintain a facade of "cultured grace"), his first language really is Common, and moreover a particular dialect that was given rise to in the gutters and back alleys of Stormwind. This bleeds through into his Orcish, often drawing curious stares when some odd bit of slang tumbles out in casual conversation. Some of these slang terms are archived below.
- Ol' Windy - Facet's less than flattering, yet nonetheless affectionate name for Stormwind City.
- Moony or Moonyville - Refers to Silvermoon City
- 'Illsbrad - While less a result of proper slang in Facet's vocabulary, his particular accent tends to give this odd rendition to "Hillsbrad".
- Shatsburg (sometimes shortened to Shat) - Shattrath City.
- The Moore - Theramore, which Facet sometimes also calls the Proudmoore Project.
- Moony/Moonies - Those who live in Silvermoon City. In particular, those Facet considers its stereotypical residents- arrogant, snotty, pretentious, and usually in need of a good slapping around.
- Jello-head(s) - For reasons unknown, Facet's nickname for Hillsbrad denizens, and, in particular, Humans.
- Dedder(s) - Describes nearly any individual belonging to one or more varieties of undead creatures, such as the Forsaken or the Scourge. Facet doesn't really demarcate, to him it's not a slur so much as a pragmatic descriptor. If he wishes to slight the name it typically comes out as bloody dedder.
- Gobbo(s) - Refers to Goblins.
- Cindy/Cindies - Facet's somewhat derogatory name for members of the Syndicate.
- Yardie(s) - A term Facet has been at times known to use in regards to Trolls.
- Shaggoff(s) - Facet has occasionally been known to use this term in reference to Tauren.
- Greenfella(s) - A name used to refer to Orcs, usually of the Azerothian variety.
- Shatsy/Shatsies - Refers to denizens of Shattrath City.
Assorted Other Verbage:
- Oi - a short word having roughly the meaning of "hey". Facet uses this as an exclamation, but sometimes also as a cheerful greeting.
- Guv/Guvnah - A title of sorts. Generally Facet uses this in legitimate acknowledgment of importance, but he's been known to use it with false pretense as well. It's generally guessed that the term from which it is bastardized is "governor".
- Luv/love - A pronoun Facet employs typically to refer to those of the Female persuasion. As with other terms, it is possible that the endearment may be false pretense.
- Bird - A noun Facet often uses to refer to a lady or young woman.
Facet began life running. Scarcely two years old when the Scourge came to Quel'thalas, he still wakes up sometimes in a cold sweat, watching in dreams replayed the fair city collapse in ashes while his mother did her best to keep him quiet in the underbrush they were hiding in. He watches as the armies of the dead strode up the Dead Scar- heedless in their single-minded directive.
In dreams he sees his mother perish at their hands. And he remembers little more of it.
The Mean Streets of "Old Windy"
Where his memory once again resumes is at the Orphanage in Stormwind, where he spent most of his early childhood and where he first got a name. The marm had bestowed it upon him, saying that his eyes were like Facets of an emerald. the name stuck. While many of the other orphans had lost their families in the Second War, few were as lonely or isolated in that orphanage as Facet. They at least had others of their own kind still to comfort them in their grief.
And if simple facts of nature weren't enough to drive a wedge between himself and his new peers, politics would put in the final hammerblows. The Alliance was breaking under the strain of post-war accusations, recrimination and bickering. The Quel'dorei were rescinding their membership, and the jingoists and sabre-rattlers on both sides were already hard at work with careless divisive talk. They say children learn by way of mimicking their elders, and sadly for young Facet, this new lesson would leave him forever a pariah among the people of Stormwind.
Facet was nearly ten when he'd first heard the term "blood elf" used to describe him. He did not know what it meant, but he wasn't sure he liked the tone. He began slipping away from the orphanage at times, listening at the doors of pubs and shops, hearing the term again and again. And never hearing it in any pleasant context. He began to realize that people- even those that did not know him- hated him. Over the next couple years he got into a great many scraps with the other boys at the orphanage. It got bad enough that the Matron had to keep him in his own separate room much of the time, which did little more than underline the conflict. The war had come to his home once again.
A couple years later, Facet had decided, as many boys nearing manhood do, that he'd much rather make his own way than deal with the adversity he was putting up with in his home- even if it was only a surrogate one. And it was not so surprising that he settled on solving the problem the way a lot of other young boys do. He ran away. Unlike a lot of young boys, he never came back. He had nothing to return to, once again.
In the few years that followed Facet lived on the streets of Stormwind, among the vagrants and street people, many who came and went. He even met the more well-known among the disenfranchised living in Stormwind. He began to steal from the various street vendors, and later, shopkeeps, to survive. He became something of a legend among the vagrants of the city for his ability to succeed in impossible lifts- large items, awkward items. Facet found acceptance among his new peers, for once, because of what he could do, rather than what he appeared to be at first glance.
Seeking to improve his reputation among his peers, he sought larger and larger targets. Eventually he was stealing whole casks of ale from the Gallinas' Winery, or entire wheels of cheese from Elling Trias. He wasn't selfish. In fact he always shared his ill-gotten gain among his comrades, such as Topper MacNabb, for whom Facet had developed an affinity- for he too had lost much in the wars and the politics that followed.
It was during one of these thefts that he ran into one of the few souls in the city who might truly be kindred to his. While slipping into an alleyway just outside Trias' Cheese, he ran headlong into another who appeared, at least at first glance, to be Quel'dorei, like himself. He was larger, and hard not to run into. At first it wasn't the kindest of meetings.
The other elf, Kayce very nearly forced him back to the shop to give back what he'd taken. Facet, the smaller and faster of the two slipped underneath him as effortlessly as butter off a hot knife. Kayce gave chase, shouting after him to stop while winding through the alleys and then the canals.
Just when he'd thought he'd lost the young wastrel, Kayce caught up with him in Old Town. He spotted him with the loot- distributing it among the other homeless. The two locked eyes briefly, and each lost their illusions about the other. It would not be the last time they would meet. Indeed the two crossed paths many more times, learned about one another, and became nearly like brothers- though they were somewhat separated in their respective situations.
And Facet would, in time, repay his debt in kind. Later on, when the turbulent, divisive atmosphere of the city was beginning to make Kayce and his family consider leaving it. Just as Facet had, Kayce found himself the target of regular suspicious and scornful glances, occasional hateful speech, but nothing would prepare him for the real bloom of hate and paranoia he would soon experience.
While returning from the market with sundries, Kayce and his mother Badzet were waylaid by a pair of drunkards stumbling home from The Pig and Whistle after a long night of drinking. they saw the mother and her son, a pointy-eared tree-hugger and her snot-nosed half-breed spawn. These two were drunk enough to take all leave of their good senses, and not hungover enough to sleep off the stupidity.
Kayce's mother was struck silly by a stone that landed hard against her head as dumb luck would have it, and with her prone and half-collapsed in her son's arms, the other moved in with a broken half of bottle in his hand, thinking to finish the whelp. Kayce, too shocked by the sheer barbarism of the act that was unfolding before his eyes, and too concerned about his now-unconscious mother, didn't see the second man closing quarters.
But he did hear bones snap from behind him, heard a yelp of pain and the enraged cry of a familiar voice, "you bloody leave them alone!" In the second it took to turn around, Kayce saw the nearest man, half bottle lying on the ground and a shattered forearm to show for it. He saw Facet duck underneath his maimed and collapsing opponent, snatch up the bottle and launch himself at the second man, pinning him between the wall and a very sharp piece of glass which Facet shoved perilously close to the human's neck.
Not wishing to see any more bloodshed come of it, Kayce needed all his effort to pull Facet off the inebriated and now suddenly quite lucid man who only moments ago had been threatening Kayce's life and was now begging for his own. Letting both men go on the honor of a lesson learned, Facet helped Kayce bring his mother home. It was the event that would set their friendship in stone. Sadly it was also the event that convinced Kayce's mother that they should leave for somewhere safer.
For the next twelve years, Facet once again found himself on his own.
With few other places to go, Facet spent the next five years in Stormwind, occupied with mostly small scams aimed at immediate needs. Some of his regular marks however, were not so oblivious as he'd thought. During one rather large job, Facet and a few of his acquaintances ambushed a caravan as it passed into Elwynn from Westfall. Facet was favored by his associates to lead the ambush since he'd shown a particular lightness of step and was quite good at remaining undetected in even the most shelterless of environs.
Facet had climbed high in the trees above and found his way onto a branch hanging low over the road. When the first wagon in the caravan passed, he dropped onto it noiselessly. Much to the surprise of his guard, who sat right beside the driver, a whisper thin steel blade appeared at the man's throat and Facet told the guard to signal the rest of the caravan to stop as he bade the driver to do the same. Once halted, Facet's three wingmen secured the other wagons and began searching them.
Facet and his men took from the caravan several crates of cheese, grain, and a large strongbox, then made for their own wagon, leaving only one briefly to behind to deter the guards from following. However, when they reached their getaway wagon, they found the Stormwind Guard already swarming over it. Surprised and outnumbered, Facet gave himself up for lack of a better plan. The Captain brought them back to Stormwind in irons and had them thrown in the Stockade.
After spending two weeks in the Stocks and meeting people both new and familiar, friendly and unfriendly (mostly the latter) among the convicts, Facet finally had his first visitor. He recognized the man immediately and didn't favor him with a look for the next several minutes.
The guard offered the man a wooden chair, and asked the visitor if he wished him to stay in the cell with him. The man waved a hand and shook his head without a word. he then took the chair, and turning it backwards he sat on it, resting his arms and head on the back of the chair. He looked at the inmate a minute, then spoke in a deep, yet cultured voice, "You know who I am?"
Facet, still withholding his gaze from the man, answered only, "Of course I bloody know. You always introduce yourself like this, mate? Makes a bad first impression there."
The man in the chair ignored the comment, "Then you know whose goods you were stealing, also?"
"What is this? Twenty bloody questions? If you've got an hour I'll tell you the 'hole story, eh?" Facet jeered, "Otherwise why don't you toddle off and find somefing better to do wif yourself apart from asking obvious bleedin' questions."
Before Facet had a moment to consider how he'd made it into his predicament, he found an awful dull pain spreading from his cheek to embrace the rest of his skull. He peeled himself off the floor. His cheek felt wet, and he noted the blood spatter where he'd struck the floor. For the first time he engaged the man with his eyes, studying his face. He'd underestimated his visitor. He wouldn't do so again.
The other man rose from the Elf, then turned his chair back round and sat down, leaning over Facet with his hands on his knees, "Now that I have your attention, I'll ask again: Do you know who I am?"
"Elling-bloody-Trias," Facet answered, "Did you forget your own name? Did it slip your mind that you belong hawking smelly old wheels of cheese rather than 'angin' out in some rat-infested gaol wif dangerous blokes all around?"
"On the contrary," he answered, "I've got an excellent memory, Facet. That is what you call yourself? I remember a certain young wastrel who cut into my profits weekly. I remember having a hard time catching up with the brat..." he paused, then added, "I also remember letting your petty little thefts slide."
"Oh you let me go, now is it?" Facet quizzed, "I fought there was naffing more dim than falling for those petty little pinches, but knowing about 'em and doin' naffing about it, now that's pretty pathetic, Elling-bloody-Trias."
Trias chuckled softly, "I'm not here to bandy with your ego, Facet. You are an excellent thief, if your plume needs preening from me. But it occurs to me, and especially at this moment, you're not very used to thinking beyond the next day or so, are you?"
After a shortened incarceration and a release on the benevolence and vouchsafe of some forgettable local Lord, Facet found himself in a whirlwind of new faces and possibilities. Trias first introduced Facet to a Kal'dorei man he described as deeply connected to the shadowy world behind the Alliance, to SI:7, to the criminal underworld, espionage. The World behind the World.
Vesperal Swiftshade, he called himself, and on the surface he appeared to be little more than the leader of a troupe of traveling actors, the Masque, as he called it. Beneath the veneer however, he was a master of poisons, alchemy, and all manner of shadowy arts, subtle and insidious.
Through his travels, Facet has met a good many unique characters throughout Azeroth and beyond. Herein lies an accounting of many of the people whom Facet is acquainted or associated with.
- Kayce Traptooli - Once an aspiring young Blood Knight, Kayce now finds himself entangled in the "Grey Tiger Shipping and Freight Company", with little real inkling of it's true nature. Facet has formed a longstanding friendship with the young Half-Elf and as he ever has, strives to keep his "innocence", such as it may be said, intact- as well as his hide.
- Vesperal Swiftshade - An old Kal'dorei, thought by the more perceptive to be leader of The Masque- a group of traveling bards and troubadours whose true purposes seem hidden beneath a baroque veneer of art and its patronage. Vesperal was introduced to Facet by Elling Trias and the two have since maintained some loose ties, assisting one another when each deems it beneficial.
- Udelle L. Zephanelle - Facet's "shop girl". A young chestnut-haired Sin'dorei girl who takes care of the Jewellers more menial tasks. She is known to stay with Facet in his flat in Silvermoon, as well as accompany him to important social functions, where she is always noted for looking demure, remaining quiet and dressing provocatively.
- Tenebrai Swiftshade - Captain of a small detachment of Blood Knights known as the Sereghim. She is related to another of Facet's acquaintances, but they don't speak of this much. Tenebrai is one of Facet's contacts on the "legit" side of things, as herself and her personnel are responsible for protecting Silvermoon and it's Eversong locality.
Herein may be found a list of stories concerning Facet:
A space for related, but arguably out-of-character information regarding Facet.
Facet FASS-et (NOT 'face t' or 'faucet' :P )- A double-entendre. A 'facet' is a single face of a cut gemstone. 'Facet' is also the root of the word 'facetious'- which means to have many meanings, or to be false- to lie, after a fashion.
Like many people I was thrilling to the idea of playing a Blood Elf (or in my case, many Blood Elves), and it occurred to me I might like to go back to my original intentions of playing a Rogue- a Night Elf Rogue after all had been my first character on Earthen Ring. I picked out a name well-ahead of time, roughly conceiving his character as that of an excellent cat burglar and jewel thief (he was after all likely to be one of my first Jewelcrafters).
Much of his character and mode of speech draws on the British 'cockney' street subculture. Charles Dickens, Alan Moore, and some of Guy Ritchie's films have been my primary inspiration for creating much of his attitude and personality.