He calls himself a priest, but in an intentionally ironic fashion as he has a rather cynical view on both faith and the light itself.
The most accurate description of his "real" class would be something akin to a proto-demon hunter who can wield light.
When confronted about his age by another elf he will say that he is "almost 200"
At his core he's an innocent and kind person, perhaps a bit gruff and cynical but overall a good lad. However, he knows this and he hates it
Being good is hard, but even if he tries to be a jerk to escape it the facade never seems to last long
He usually scampers about in a large ragged burlap cloak, upper body only covered with some dirty bandages and the rest hastily wrapped up in old worn out leather armour.
After a long streak of being used and lied to he grew averse to forming any kind of bond with people.
He does enjoy the company of some people he meets along his travels though, you just wont see him calling them friends.
Unfortunately the only way to achieve that seems to be saving Azeroth and stopping the faction war for good... He's still working that one out.
(Hence why he doesn't use light if he doesn't have to)
These may or may not be mutually exclusive activities depending on the day.
He's also very good at all of them, except one – which he's terrible at – but he wont tell you which one it is (until it's too late)
During festivities? Professional food moocher
His father was a devout priest and about as compassionate as a literal rock.
His father desperately tried to get him into all of Silvermoon finest academies, even going so far as to paying some magisters to privately school him, but it was all wasted on him as he failed each and every one of the introductory courses.
Let's just say he's not the kind of guy parents should expect grandkids from.
His time in the horde forces where he basically worked as a sell-sword earned him a respectable amount of coin, and with his simple lifestyle he's in no risk of running dry anytime soon.