Cicymyst the sagely
No other names
Half human, half elf
Varden (though not joined yet)
Furnost is his hometown
17 years old
Male
April 5 (should've checked the calendar in use :S)
Chocolate brown eyes
Dark brown-black hair
153 lbs
Just over six feet
Only knows that he can use magic
Prefers a hand and a half sword, polearms, axes, daggers, or chains
Appearance:
Bracers Click here Torso Click here Helmet Click here Ring here Sword Belt here Pendant is here, He wears layers of clothes. These include: a simple brown shirt, a cream colored cuffed and collared long sleeved shirt, a hauberk reaching mid arm and mid calf, and a deep blue tunic. Black lethrblaka leather armor sparsely offers fair protection from blows, and gives him a sleek, lethal look, although a laid-back smile usually adorns his face. Two small pouches adorn his simple black belt. On another two strips of leather is his ever present hand and a half sword ( google Strider's ranger sword and you'll het the idea) slung low on his hip in a simple scabbard. He wears knee length boots with scarred covers buckled over the top. Khaki colored pants balloon slightly before terminating into his boots. A small adventurer's backpack ( canvas sack covered in leather) is slung over his back and over his midnight blue cloak, which has the characters for strength and control in the ancient language stitched in green. His face is noble, yet simple. His hair grows forward, and is always very difficult to coax into shape. He was born wity olive skin that pales slightly in the winter. Lean muscles ripple beneath his armor. Generally alert and watchful when not reading or daydreaming.
Likes: combat, tactics, reading, sparring, listening to legends, problem solving, more fighting, justice, knowledge, learning, eating
Dislikes: Hunger, injustice, immorality, profanity (but is tolerant), not being able to let his energy out or read
Strengths: Combat, tactics, justice and morality, scholarly pursuits, improvisation, steadfastness, cunning, courage
Weaknesses: is sometimes on guard, sometimes not, occasionally gets too much adrenaline, and botches things, isn't good for any kind of talking (unless it's combat related) when experiencing an adrenaline rush
Family: Mother out there somewhere
History: Cicymyst was born in a rare human-elf marriage. His father pretended to adopt him, as the marriage was secret, and raised him as a young noble in Furnost for ten years. From age three he was taught in the arts of war, beginning his training in longsword combat and basic military tactics. Cicymyst took to it like a duck to water, excelling with glee and aplomb in every lesson his father, a veteran soldier and now a rewarded officer in the Empire, taught him. His mother, an elf spying for the Queen, taught him secularly, teaching him the written languages of all peoples in Alagaesia, all except the ancient language. He learned chivalry, and became a gentleman under both parents. The young family travelled much during their first ten years, visiting distant courts and going on snall- scale adventures. During these excursions Cicymyst began to notice injustice that he had been taught to revile growing rapidly in the Empire. Most blamed the Urgals and/or the Varden, but Cicymyst, with his intuitive nature, knew that the problem lied inside the Empire. Cicymyst matured much before he hit his growth spurts. He would need it before his world shattered.
The identity of Cicymyst's mother had been a well-kept secret for many years. Even the manor servants and advisors had known nothing of Alina's secret. And so it remained for ten years, the elf disguising her ears with magic. One day, on an excursion to Feinster, a shade named Durza raided the market with his henchmen. The shade destroyed all in his path, as all shades, specifically new ones like Durza, tend to. Alina unleashed a blast of magic at the shade, halting the furious crimson brigand and his band of brigands. Unfortunately, the shade recognized an elf wording in the spell, albeit a minor slipup. The young family quickly fled from curious eyes and possibly harmful investigators while the shade was bolted up in the strongest cell in the castle (the resident serial killer was quite peeved at being replaced as the most dangerous person in town). In a flash of inspiration, Durza blasted through the wall, fighting off the guards until he reached the gates of the city. He fled to Galbatorix, where he revealed Alina's identity. Cicymyst's home was attacked by sildiers within days. Cicymyst's father defended Alina as she fled through a secret passage with her son. Cicymyst's father was killed that day, and Alina was on the run.
The mother and son fled for a fortnight, going deeper into the Beor mountains. They finally reached Buragh, a dwarves city, where Alina found Falcrag, an old dwarven diplomat and hermit. The dwarf led them to a safehouse where a sma group of freedom fighters spying and infiltrating for the Varden sometimes met. The fighters were in meeting, huddled over a map when Alina and Cicymyst entered. Each greeted Alina warmly, clasping arms like old friends. Alina tearfully told her tale, and asked for a mentor for Cicymyst for his own safety, while she led the Empire away from the boy. Eberhardt Westy took up the job. An elegant, regal, and highly opinionated man, Eberhardt was an excellent swordsman and a highly respected scholar and diplomat, even though he was getting on in years. Having secured a future for her son, Alkna turned once more into the Beor night, bidding a tearful farewell to her son. That was the last Cicymyst heard of her.
The next five years passed quickly, filled with wonders as Eberhardt took Cicymyst on his travels, finishing the lad's martial education, and teaching about politics and science. Cicymyst's journeys with Eberhardt were many, and always included duels and fights and epic chases. This too, however was to end violently.
Being a spy and infiltrator was always risky business, and came with its risks. One day, Eberhardt's luck ran out. He had just finished probing the boy for magic capabilities, and had come back positive, when he unconsciously let his ring fall. This included a tiny Varden crest on the inside if the ring. The innkeeper found it after the duo had left, and turned it in for a reward, not thinking anything of it. The guard found the crest on inspection and laid in wait for the owner. Eberhardt did return for his ring, and had to kill the guard, causing an uproar that ended with Cicymyst and Eberhardt hiding in some bushes outside Dras Leona. The soldiers, led by Durza, searched the bushes, looking for the two fugitives. They found Eberhardt, shooting him through the collarbone on sight. With his dying breath, Eberhardt cast a spell that hid Cicymyst from the eyes of the Empire. Durza cursed and shouted a death threat at Cicymyst so vile that I cant repeat it here. Cicymyst had seen enough of this foolery. He had seen enough pain and injustice from Galbatorix's reign. At that moment he knew that he would forever oppose that tyrant, even if it cost him his life.
Anything Extra: RP Sample:Cicymyst sat back in his chair in the corner of the tavern. His helmet laid on the table in front of him, along with a tankard of Apple Fizz, his sword (which he was cleaning yet again with vigor), and a small book. He sighed, setting his sword down and taking up his tankard. 'nothin going on around Cenuon, that's for sure.' he thought gloomily. No companion shared his table, or his long and ardrous quest. This past year he had been searching for the Varden and his mother. No luck so far for either, but several leads on both. Cenuon had made sense, as its proximity to Du Waldenvarden seemed an opportune place to find a fugitive elf seeking refuge. The tavern was a dark, smelly place, and the food was terrible. The company was rather rascally, and the innkeeper/bartender was surly and hulking for a reason. The only upside, indeed, the only reason Cicymyst was there, was the fact that this particular tavern was known for its divine fizzes, a drink brewed with magic and air. Cicymyst grained as he stood, sheathing his sword and replacing his book inside his backpack. He tossed a couple small coins onto the table, and began to take his long strides toward the door. He drew several dark glances from the ruffian lowlife who laughed bawdily at their games of dice and darts. He neared the door when two lanky, rougish men sidled up to the traveller. One had a stubbly pale beard and hair, the other had long dreadlocks and one eye. Both were armed with poniards, messers, and bucklers.
"so" puffed the bearded man, "I hear yah're new in town."
"You heard right." Cicymyst replied in his deep voice, lowering his hooded face so as to stare the thieves down his nose. "If you come to ask me my business, I'm afraid that I cannot tell you, on pain of death."
"not even a whisper?" the dreadlocked man asked,
"not one"
This seemed to anger the whole tavern.
"all who come here must state their business, or else." said one scruffy varmint, brandishing his falchion.
"yeah!"cried the ruffians, eager for a fight. Blades were drawn across the tavern, and Cicymyst's silver blade was no exception, being out in a blink of an eye. Cicymyst stared the ruffians down, locking himself into his fighting stance. He did not move, even his eyes were still. Nobody moved for a moment, but then a huge man with a battle axe charged Cicymyst with a huge overhead swing. Cicymyst deflected the blow deftly, turning the block into a swing, lodging the blade deep into the man's right shoulder. The brute howled in pain and swung again, horizontally this time. Cicymyst leapt toward the beast, too close for the axe to do any harm, and beat him with the pommel of his sword. The blow landed soundly, dropping the giant with a thud. The too
was silent as Cicymyst slowly backed out of the tavern.
Later that night, as Cicymyst was searching for a suitable inn, a unit of soldiers spotted him.
"It's him!" one cried, "Durza wants him alive!"
That was all Cicymyst needed to draw his sword and dash off headlong into the night. After a long hour of dashing through Cenuon The guards cornered him in an alley, pikes jabbing. Suddenly, with a blast of gold light, the soldiers screamed... And were gone. At the mouth of the alley stood an old woman. She reminded Cicymyst of his mother, the way she smiled with her teeth, and the way she stood all reminded him of her. Cicymyst raised his sword as the old lady approached him.
"no need for hostilities, young man." she said as she waved Cicymyst's sword away with magic. "If I had wanted to kill you, then the soldier would be leading you off to Uru Baen or Dras Leona by now. No, I have seen your future, and I know that you are destined for greatness. Just remember that once done, the bone's white you will shun." Cicymyst was taken aback.
"What inthe name of Wyrda does-" Cicymyst never finished his sentence. The woman threw up her cloak, chanting arcane words of power. With a ruffle of the cloak the woman was gone. In her place was a small parchment with a strange word on it, and the smell of fresh pine needles. 'how occult' thought Cicymyst to himself. He read the word aloud three times. "Risa Shurturgal Mathinae!" the third time produced an odd result. A buzz unbearably loud penetrated his skull. 'great' he thought miserably as he fled the city, 'she's given me the plague.' Cicymyst ran out of Cenuon eastward, leaving the starkly sky behind as he was led as if by a supreme leash. The buzz slowly faded as Cicymyst exhaustedly stumbled deeper into Du Waldenvarden. He finally arrived in a clearing, and the buzzing stopped. Cicymyst rested for an hour, recovering from his forced sprint. When he finally got his strength back, he began walking back the way he came. He soon found that an invisible force, along with the renewed buzz, forced him back to the clearing. Cicymyst was utterly confused, so he laid down on a smooth patch of grass , pulled his blanket from his pack, and slept until dawn.
In the morning, Cicymyst investigated the clearing. He found a bubbling stream, and refilled the bottles from one of his belt pouches. He snooper about some more, and quickly found what appeared to be a giant amethyst. It was about one and a half feet across, slightly ovoid, and had deeper purple veins slithering along seemingly haphazardly about its exterior. It sounded hollow too. Shrugging, Cicymyst placed the gem into his pack. As he tried once more to exit the clearing, he found the old lady blocking his way.
"why did you send me here?" he shouted, drawing his sword.
The old lady rolled her eyes and magically disarmed the young man. "I knew not where you were bound, boy." she croaked. "I only k ew that you and such a stone were destined to be one." with this she cackled, throwing her head back. "yes," she grinned, " you shall do great things together."
Cicymyst was puzzled. What? Him do what? With this stone? No way. " well," he began, "if you've seen my future, what next?"
The old lady smiled. "Why, I have foreseen you joining the Varden, boy!"
"Where are they?!" Cicymyst asked eagerly.
"I can only tell you that they hide near your old home. To gain further insight, you must stay in this clearing for one more day and night. Farewell, Cicymyst. May your sword stay sharp, shurturgal." with this she cackled and disappeared in the same manner as before. 'odd' thought cicymyst as he began to build a fire.
That night Cicymyst woke to hear an earsplitting crack. He jumped awake, sword in hand. After scanning his surroundings and funding nothing amiss, he laid back down and curled up next to the fire. 'I guess trees that fall in the forest really do make noise.' he thought to himself in amusement. he then woke up later to hear an odd squealing. He snooped about for the source, and found it coming from his pack. He unlaced the now bulging and squirming canvas. Before he could see what was inside, however, he touched it. He jumped back with a burning feeling in hisleft palm. The skin was glowing! Cicymyst grabbe his sword and carefully upended his sack. The fabric turned inside out, reavealing a squirming and very entangled purple baby dragon. As soon as it saw Cicymyst the little monstrosity stopped thrashing, looking up at the lad wih its large purple eyes. It seemed to smile, and Cicymyst found he heard a deep thrum like a base drum beat echo in the back of his mind. Cicymyst lowered his sword and helped the hopelessly entangled dragon free itself from his pack. He cooed his hellos and introduction to it. A dragon Rider! Him? Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined this happening. Not in a million years. Yes, he had daydreamed about it, diddly wanted it to happen, but never was there any chance of him becoming a legend this way. A grin slowly spread across his face as it sunk in: Cicymyst he dragon rider!
Password: Witch of Teirm
(Hope you don't mind me organizing this into one post.)
