Elos D’varen (AKA Byral Telvoral)
Background information

        Elos is a Half-Elf fighter. He grew up in Light’s step, a village far west of Daggersdale. His mother died while he was young, and he was raised by a father, whom he hated. Elos’ father, Taras D’varen, was drunk, and abusive. One night, when Elos was sixteen, and his father was in a furious state, he prayed to the gods that they might save him. The god of the hunt, Malar, heard his cries, and saw an opportunity. He offered Elos salvation, and untold power with which he could stop the torture he was enduring. Elos, desperate and afraid for his life, agreed to Malar’s bargain, and his transformation began. Elos sat in a corner, his arms raised in defense against his father, pleading to Malar to save him, when they, began to stretch, before his very eyes. It was agony, feeling every bone in his body creak as they enlarged. Soon, hair began sprouting all over his body, and his teeth became like daggers. His hands, now claws, capable of rending flesh from bone. His father was soon torn asunder by Elos, and he ran off into the night. As he was fleeing, a dwarven girl saw him, and began screaming for help. Elos growled at her, his pale glowing eyes incensing with fury. Soon, she too, fell dead before him.
The Aftermath

        Elos fled from Light’s step, still the beast that Malar made him to be. Each step from his home more liberating than the last, for the first time in his life, Elos felt powerful, and in control of his destiny. He spent the rest of the night chasing deer throughout the hills near Ashvale, however, when the sun arose, Elos returned to his Half-elf form. He was terrified. During his transformation, nothing seemed to matter but the hunt, but now, he realized the consequences of his actions. Being found guilty of these murders alone would surely cause him to be hanged, but who could tell what they would do to him if they discovered he was a werewolf. He ran into the nearby woods, and began his life anew.

        At first, the transformations came every night. Hunting, stalking the woodlands creatures to satiate his hunger for flesh and blood. Over the years, he learned to control his power, and use it only as needed. However, one night, Elos was resting near a campfire, when Malar came to him.
The Curse
        Elos was laying down to rest at his camp in the Ashvale forest one night, when he saw a mysterious creature appear, sitting on a tree branch near him, staring down. A large, black cat, with a blood red face, and paws. “Mortal.” the creature spoke, “You spit in the face of the gift I have bestowed. You disrespect the hunt, and you repress the beast within.”
        Elos stood up, looked to the creature and said, “Malar, I am grateful for the powers you’ve given me, I could not bear to live without them, for they have become all that I am.”
        Malar grinned a wicked grin, and spoke these words to Elos. “Mortal, you waste the gift, hunting rabbits and squirrels. Pathetic. You have become as meek and as cowardly as the prey you chase. To prove you are worthy, I command you to slay that prey, which is most cunning. Should you show too weak, or too cowardly to hunt mortal men, your brothers and sisters in fang and claw, shall find you as their quarry.”
And so, Elos was cursed. He must hunt and slaughter people, or invoke the wrath of Malar, and become hunted himself, and worse, lose the gift of lycanthropy. Should Elos ever spend seven days without hunting and slaying a person in his beast form, he shall become hunted by the Werewolves of the Wild Hunt, a group of lycan champions chosen by Malar.
Present Day

The night after being cursed by Malar, he began stalking a trade caravan leaving Light’s step for Daggersdale. He tracked them silently, enjoying every moment of it, feeling the watchful eyes of Malar on his hunt. Finally, the moment arose to strike when the caravan stopped for the night, deep in the woods, with nowhere to run. He waited until the three men had fallen asleep, then waited longer. Each moment of anticipation feeling like hours, but he waited patiently. Then, it began. Elos transformed, and leapt out of the woods into the clearing the trader’s had set up camp. Bodies flying apart, limbs torn from torso with ease, and flesh consumed. The fools had made the mistake of going off the road to avoid bandits. This was the first time Elos had tasted human flesh, and he immediately knew he wanted more.
Two days later, Elos found himself in the small village of Daggersdale. This place is full of lambs awaiting to be slaughtered, he thought. He began staying at the Inn, The Weeping Troll. Fearing people may learn of his past, he began using an alias, Byral Telvoral. From the second he walked into town, he began looking for potential prey, taking notes in his journal on everyone he saw, and what their schedule is like, keeping to himself as much as possible. However, soon enough, another four days had passed. His hunger grew, and the impatience of Malar loomed over him.


The Night Before

It was the middle of the night when Farmer Tarun Wellpond heard his sheep crying in the yard behind his house. He grabbed an axe and ran outside to see what was going on, when he saw the beast, feasting on his livestock. He opened his mouth to scream, but it was too late. Elos saw the farmer, and leapt onto him, tearing into his flesh, his cries of pain filling the village. Someone else showed up and elos ran away into the woods, not wishing to be caught by the entire village. With the farmer dead, Malar’s bloodlust was quelled for another week but he was careless in his rush to meet his deadline, and risked being spotted.
        It wasn’t long before the Mayor put a bounty out on “whatever” killed the farmer and his livestock. Four people volunteered, including Elos, hoping to throw off his prey, and extend his stay in his new hunting grounds.
Daggersdale

        You’ve been eyeing your prey, watching their movements, and jotting down what you notice in your journal, stalking, and waiting for the perfect time to strike. These are your notes.
The Blacksmith - Dwarf. Seems to work almost the entire day, then goes home to his wife, who is usually home a few hours before him. He has a dragonborn apprentice that works with him all day, then goes home. Twice has the blacksmith spent a very brief spell in the inn, then stumbled home.
The Guard - The night shift guard seems to have problems with drinking on the job, and he tends to pass out during the day. The day guard takes his job more seriously, and tends to patrol all around the village.
The Innkeeper - A halfling that doesn’t leave her inn much. She doesn’t ask questions.
The Bard - Noisy, irritating little halfing. Stays in the inn to “perform” during the evening.
The Orc - He leaves the village at night to hunt in the woods, and sleeps during the day at the inn.
The Farmer - Tends to his sheep in the morning, then goes foraging in the woods for a short while. Spends his evenings drinking at the inn.
The Gnome - Small, hooded thing, sometimes goes into the woods at night, alone. Sells poultices and potions.