Name : Ashen
Gender : Male
Age : 23
Character Class : Magician
Kingdom (if you belong to one) : Ibenia
Bio : Ashen grew up as the lowest of the low. His father abandoned him and his mother when he was too young to even remember his face, so now the only memories he has of the man are sweet songs and the warmth of his comfort. His remaining parent was never clear as to why his father left them, but by the small bits of conversation they've had over him, he's managed to gather that his father was a soldier of high rank, and favored by the king. Apparently, one of the bravest men in his legion. But still cowardly enough to leave his family in the middle of the night, without explanation or warning.
Of course, those favored by the king usually are among the wealthiest of the land, so Ashen did not have a horrible early childhood, before his father left. His memory is clipped into little bits and pieces; images of large, plush velvet pillows, silky curtains, and large beds with goose-down covers. And smiles. Everyone used to smile, laugh. Used to. The happy images end abruptly, and transform into vivid, more horrifying scenes. His mother sitting by the fire with tear stained cheeks and puffy red eyes, mulling over letters of taxes that she, alone, no longer had the money to pay. A knight dressed in black robes and silver chain mail storming into the house and grabbing mother by her pinned up golden locks and throwing her outside into the storm, yelling that the house was now government property, and how she and Ashen would have to find somewhere else to live. Memories that haunt him to this day. And the cold... The nose-biting, mind-numbing cold. He'd never felt so frozen and stiff in his life. He'd always had the cheerful crackling of the fireplace as a constant company, and he'd never known how unforgiving the wind and snow could be. Yes, that was when his happy memories started to fade...
He and his mother were forced to live on the streets of Ibenia for a full five months, building small fires out of oil-soaked rags under awnings and in dead end alleyways, huddling for warmth and begging for pennies. Finally, near at the end of the fifth month, Ashen's mother rented a tiny, ratty apartment on the ground floor of one of the oldest building in the city, using the meager amount of money she'd managed to save up from her part-time just as a seamstress, stitching on the edge of the sidewalk with near-frostbitten fingers. The apartment wasn't much at all, it was only one room with a small, rickety bed crammed in the corner, and more rats scurrying on the rotting floorboards than Ashen cared to count. However, it did have a working fireplace that heated the room, and though it also filled it with smoke, it was more than they could ask for.
Through all of this, Ashen's mother remained the sweet, quiet soul that she'd always been, though her appearance changed slightly. Her once thick, neat gold curls was now willowy and messy, and gray hairs were starting to get mixed with the wheat-colored ones. Her overall appearance mirrored her hair, she always seemed more frail, her once rosy complexion was now pale, and her face was bare of any makeup. She was still rather beautiful, but living on the streets was not a life she was accustomed to, and had aged her greatly. Ashen had matured too, obviously not in the way his mother had, but he did not look like the boy of twelve that he was.
They lived like that for a while, and though Ashen never actually got employed, he got money by doing odd jobs all over the city. He always gave his earnings to his mother to pay for rent and food, and never thought of keeping a penny for himself. Ashen and his mother were happy. Cold at times, and poor, but happy. But, as Ashen was very familiar with, all good things come to an end eventually. A smoldering, bloody end.
Ashen was returning from the market one of the harsher winter days, clutching an old rice bag filled with bread and a few half-rotten vegetables for a stew that his mother had planned on making. Walking along the sidewalk and keeping his head bowed against the howling wind, he still managed to notice the unusual amount of yelling and commotion around him. When he looked up, he felt the air in his lungs freeze solid. Somehow, in the midst of a blizzard, the old building had caught fire. The building that his mother had been sleeping in when he left. The sack slipped from his hand to the snow-coated ground below him, scattering it's contents onto the road, but Ashen barely noticed. He tried to run into the flaming building, but the hands of the men trying to put out the fire dug into his skin, holding him back, until finally it was all he could do to was fall to his knees and sob, then wipe his cheeks before his tears froze to his face.
The clamor lasted for hours, the screams of the grief-stricken women, the roaring of the fire, and the dying his the flames made as bucket upon bucket of water was thrown at the building. Until, finally, everything faded. The fire was put out, and Ashen was left in the middle of the street, with nothing but the charred skeleton of his home and the powdery snowflakes falling around him.
Ashen stumbled through the alleyways of the city like a drunkard, more numb than he had ever been in his life. He'd never felt as empty as this. Everything he'd ever known had been ripped away from him. All over again. He couldn't feel the tears streaming down his cheeks, or the cold air freezing the ends of his fingers. Totally, and completely numb. It was well past midnight before his legs gave out, and he collapsed on someone's doorstep. He stared at the snow for a while, marveling at how white and pretty it was, and then his world went black.
When Ashen awoke, he was lying on a bed of clean white linens in a well-lit room, with plain cream painted walls. It was cozy, but chilly, though that was hardly what he was thinking about. There was a man sitting next to the bed, and he later learned that the man's name was Holl Izen, but Master Izen to Ashen. Ashen had been taken in by one of the retired mages of the kingdom, who happened to be looking for an apprentice. Apparently, Ashen fit Izen's requirements perfectly.
Izen would provide Ashen with shelter and food, in exchange for some help around the house, and of course, studying to become a mage. Ashen worked as hard as he could, grateful to finally have something interesting to apply himself to, so he advanced shockingly fast. He also found that he was strangely adept at fire bending, and though at first he hated his newfound talent, he learned to except it as merely just another one of his tricks.
After five long years of hard practice and studying, Izen decided that Ashen was fit to present to the king, and took the young mage to the king's court to give a small show. Ashen performed flawlessly, entrancing the crowd with his dangerous fire acts and card tricks almost as if her were a hypnotist. When he finally finished, exhausted, one of the king's servants informed him that the king would employ him as an official entertainer and magician, and even a soldier on rare occasions. Ashen hastily agreed, and was rewarded with a room of his own in a tower next to the king's castle where entertainers could stay if they so chose.
Ashen has been a mage ever since, and though he usually sleeps in the tower, he often goes to Izen's house to visit and chat about the recent happenings within the kingdom. He's content with his life, and it's reflected in his demeanor by being playfully rude and coy to almost everyone he meets. Despite the land being war, he's happier than he's ever been. Hopefully, these good memories won't have to fade away so soon...
Crush : Ha. N/A
Relationship Status : Single
Other :--
