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[Fantasy] Icienne DeLonge

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[Fantasy] Icienne DeLonge

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby PunkRockinHobbit on Sat Apr 14, 2007 11:25 pm

Name: Icienne DeLonge

Age: 20 years

Height: 5'11'

Weight: 98lbs

Race: Human

Class: Mage

Appearance: Jet black hair, thick as the shadows of night, flows over her shoulders, past her waistline, threatening to scrape the very floor her feet are planted on. Her eyes are icy blue, to the point of bordering white, leaving her pupils like black inkblots in the center of her eyes. She is alarmingly thin, with pale flesh that makes her look more like walking death, a look that vastly deceives all who challenge her. She wears robes of hunter green, fashioned from soft velvets found only in the Tower of Wizardry. A belt of deep crimson encircles her tiny waist, and from it hang various pouches containing that on which she thrives: the components of her spells. Her figure is kept hidden mostly in the folds of the velvet robes, and little is ever seen of her other than her face and her hands, with their long, spindly fingers and razor-sharp nails.

History: Icienne grew up weak and frail. Runt. Outcast. Abandoned to her own devices by parents that did not understand her. Indeed, they feared her. She was weak of body, true enough, but whatever weakness she possessed outwardly, she more than made up for with her strength of wits, her power of will. She held properties no other in her village kept, properties of strong magic that burned in her very marrow. It was these properties, this power, that kept her alive.

At a very young age, she began the study of the arcane, spending hours upon end delving into books, harrassing the bookkeeper of the village she called home to expand his collection constantly, wanting, no, needing to learn all there was to be learned in the ways of magic. She studied spells night after night, day after day, memorizing the lines and absorbing them into the very fiber of her being. Thus it was, that on her twelfth birthday, Icienne was taken into apprenticeship by the only mage she idolized, and the author of many of the books she had cherished: Ichlaz, Master of the Tower of Wizardry, Archmage of the Council of Elders that controlled the comings and goings in the magic world.

For eight grueling years, Icienne studied under the guidance of Ichlaz, enhancing her powers, learning how to control and utilize them in ways she never dreamed. Murmurs leaked through the halls of the Tower that perhaps the one worthy to take the place of Ichlaz himself had been found, but there was first a Test to be taken. All mages, upon reaching the end of their apprenticeship, were to take the Test, a challenge set upon them by their masters that would define them as a worthy mage, or an utmost failure. The completion of the test would decide a magic user's fate, leaving he or she available to take up residency in the tower and begin the climb in the Hierarchy of Elders, or nothing more than a street magician performing slight-of-hand for the amusement of those that did not undersand.

Icienne's Test had been set.

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