Mîcealæs

Osthato Chetowä · February 17th, 2007, 3:19 am

•Name
   Mîcealæs

•Age
   16250

•Gender
   Male

•Race
   See Character History.

•Character History, which looks a lot like a fanfic.
   Mîcealæs, being one of the oldest elves alive to this day, has been for the longest time a secret of the elves. He was born in Ellesméra, before it was flawless, and before the inhabitants had learned even the beginning of what they could do. He was stolen at the age of fifteen by a remnant of the grey folk, who had been declining, though the reason remains a mystery. He first arrived at their city in a state of shock, because he had simply touched an odd, golden stone he had seen with something looking like his name seemingly engraved in it. He later learned that this was what the considered a trivial enchantment. After the original shock, the shock only seemed to grow for a while, as he witnessed the perfection of the ancient race. However, everyone ignored him. He could even touch them, and they would continue if nothing happened.
   After a merely a year, he decided to watch them, listen to them, and learn about them. Within thirty years of this resolution he could fluently speak the ancient language with as much skill as they could, and in some cases he could even pronounce it more clearly. His acute, pointy ears seemed to surpass theirs somehow. When Mîcealæs was three hundred, he felt like he was one of them. That was also the year that he was first acknowledged. It happened rather suddenly. One of their leaders, who Mîcealæs had rarely seen, simply walked past him on one of the vast city streets, and began a lifelong tale of their history.
   While taken by suprise, he had plenty of time to calm down; the story - literally - took years. However after it was done, he knew as much of the world as the grey folk. He also commited that to his memory, which had been and still is flawless, though the question remains whether or not it is actually his memory.. The end of the tale concluded, "You, however, are the future. These people, this city, these magics, this language... They are are leaving. Not by choice, but they are. Soon there will be only memories. Your memories. With this in mind, you are being offered a gift.." With those words, the world around him erupted with light, and only faded to the realization that he was in the colliseum. The colliseum. He had never seen it in use, but he had heard of it being used. Twice before.
   The entirity of the grey folk were around him, below him, above him.. The place was a perfect sphere, with no exits. One could only enter or exit by magic. The seats lined the sphere, which had no sense of natural gravity, but merely a magic which held the inhabitents to the chairs they were sitting in comfortably. Every chair faced the center, which was magically reflected so that everyone would appear to look on it from the perfect viewpoint. It was lit, today, by a single torch. Primitive, but highly symbolic. All of the cities' leaders were in a circle around him, and he felt as nervous as... as you would in front of billions of staring eyes? Slowly, the one he had been talking to the past few years stepped forward to him. In a voice that echoed around the sphere, he said "On behalf of every present member of the Folk, and with the assumed consent of those who are absent, we, the entirety of the Folk, present to you, Mîcealæs of Ellesméra, the three gifts of the world which we ourselves partake in.
   First, the gift of tongues. May you never meet any thing, living or not, to which you may not speak. Thus we give you our language. Second, we give you our gifts with magic. Everything is possible, and now within your grasp. May you use it to carry on our legacy, and may you use it with our wisdom.. The wisdom which is to be the third gift. May you see beyond the perspective of your eyes, to the realm of truth. And so may your mind be filled with the truths of what may lay before you." He stepped back to his place in the circle. Another soon stepped forward, holding out his hand. "Take my hand," he said, "and recieve the fourth, and final gift. The gift that will allow you to continue our legacy. We must leave this place, as you have learned. To make you one of us would set you to the same fate; thus we leave you suspended halfway." Taking his hand, Mîcealæs immediately lost consciousness. He awoke near a natural spring, somewhere in a forest....
   The forest, of course, was Du Weldenvarden. That came to him as part of his knowledge about the world. But the reflection showed him more than he expected. He was... ancient. He showed some of the most obvious signs of the Folk. He was somehow more perfect, and yet less perfect, and yet the same. His pointy ears remained. but somehow he seemed so different. He saw the difference in his perception too. The world had slowed down some, it seemed. He saw next to him a sword, with a perfectly mirrored blade which somehow faded into a crystal hilt. However, despite its light build and beauty, this was the choice weapon of the Folk, though they had only needed it once for themselves. It would never break.
[Continued in Character Personality]

•Character Personality, which continues as what seems like a fanfic.
   With his gift of wisdom, he always remained calm in any circumstance. The right answer always seemed obvious to him. The wrong answer never even started to appeal. Despite the calmness, he has a social side that has developed over the last 16000 years. However he cannot always show it. Though he is easy to get along with if you can stand the lack of obvious emotion, he is often forced to be shy, knowing that if he is found out by the Empire, he will have to live in secrecy. Because of this, the Elven society has tried to keep him hidden. But of late, he could no longer resist the temptation to simply come out and be a person. Looking for friendship, though never carelessly so, he ventures out amongst the world of people to help. His sense of right and wrong has shown him the evils of gallabatorix, and he joins up with resistance forces against the king, and really anyone who sets out to help overthrow his reign of cruelty. He, however, wants no part in taking out the king himself. He will help, he will prepare.. but it is not his place, even if it is possible, to kill the king himself.

•Skills
   His swings are that of sheer force, his elven muscles having toned to amazing strength over 16000 years of practice. However, he prefers fighting with magic if he has to fight. He normally signifies his magical attacks with a prismatic explosion of colors, but he can do generally anything he wants with magic.

•Hair
   Silvery Blonde (not old looking)

•Eyes
   Naturally grey, but they change with his mood.

•Home Villiage
   Ellesméra/[City of Greyfolk]

•Parents
   Unknown.

•Siblings
   Assumably none.

•Weapons
   From Character History "...a sword, with a perfectly mirrored blade which somehow faded into a crystal hilt. However, despite its light build and beauty, this was the choice weapon of the Folk, though they had only needed it once for themselves. It would never break."

•Likes
   Fairness, equality, balance, magic

•Dislikes
   Tyranny, cruelty, lies

•Physical Description
   At first glance, Mîcealæs appears to be just an elf, but his silvery hair and often oddly colored eyes added to his proud body posture help distinguish him. After studying him for a while, one notices that he is somewhat shorter than normal elves, and moves even quicker. His agility is roughly equal to that of an elf, though he rarely uses it and has lost some of his skill in remaining undetected without magic because of this lack of practice, so he moves more hulkily than most elves also. He never actually dresses in clothing, but it would appear so. As was the fashion of the grey folk, he shrouded his body in a thick mist of silvery energy, which he condensed untill it took the shape, and effectively functioned as a loose-fitting shirt matching pants, but shiftable in an instant to any color or shape desired.

•Dreams
   Indirectly bring an end to the reign of Gallabatorix.

•Reason for Dreams
   Gallabatorix is the biggest threat to the balance of the world, and needs removed because of his unjust cruelty.

•Alignment
   He doesn't have any alignment. He merely seeks to strike down the dishonest and the evil.

OOC: Not finished yet. Will add some more later.

Mîcealæs

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