Your person character history development

[Snowrose]

Our characters will be used as personal characters when we travel to renaissance fairs, but there is also a certain whimsy to twist fantasy into their tales. We live in a world filled with humans, hidden elven and dwarven cities (they fled from the eyes of the developing human populations). Magic, mythical creatures and arts of all kind flow in abundance. The magic of this realm is gifted to humans from dragons, though the elves and dwarven folk have special magic of their own. The elves delve in healing arts, and the dwarves in forging and enchanting. At times, cross-breeds have rare occurrences, and in those cases the child is often blessed with unusual ability.

Whether you are human, elven, darven, or a dragon like myself, you have to develop your history. What part of society were you born into? Did you have family? or were you orphaned? Did you grow up in the forest? Or in castles? Where you poor? Were you rich and entitled? What pain and darkness followed you path? What good and light? How did you become who you are? What skills did you develop and why? Where did you travel, if you traveled at all?

Everyone comes up with unique answers, though on the paths you each choose to trod one thing remains common: somehow, somewhere along the line, you met me and were worthy of donning the title of an Ashen.

Keep in mind that somewhere in your characters history you will want to have some kind of a journey where you spirit animal presents itself to you as that is how your Ashen title is selected.

--The Ashen Dragon

[Crystal]

I grew up in a town that was mostly unaware of magic, where I had to keep my special connection to the Fae secret from everyone except my close friends. The ground floor of my childhood home was a bookstore, and I spent most of my spare time reading. I would sit in a certain spot by the windowsill, surrounded by bookcases of poetry and fantasy stories, and read by the daylight that filtered in through the foliage outside the window.
One day, a gypsy caravan came through my town. Through the gaps between the branches of the tree outside my window, I saw the bright colours of the caravan travelling down the road toward the market square. With all the curiosity and enthusiasm of childhood, I left my book and ran outside to watch the brightly coloured carts and people. I was in awe of them because they had traveled here from the fascinating, magical reaches of the Earth that lay beyond the borders of my known world.
I asked my mother to take me and my two best friends, Liz and Leila, to the market to see gypsy caravan again. There were so many people and interesting sights that I didn’t notice when I lost them for a moment in the crowd. I wandered over to a stall selling jewellery, and a certain crystal necklace caught my eye: the clear pendant hanging on a golden string seemed so much like a real candle flame that I could almost see it flicker with fiery light when I picked it up.
“Child, that one is not for--”
I looked up at the old gypsy woman behind the counter, dressed in faded purple and blue and heavily decorated with jewellery. Her voice commanded such gentle yet unquestionable authority that I automatically reached to put the necklace back down, but she changed her mind mid-sentence.
“Keep it,” she said, looking at me—no, through me, into all my present, past and future incarnations—with her soul-searching grey eyes that almost seemed as silver as her hair. “That necklace has chosen you.”
“Are you sure?” I asked shyly.
“The necklace is certain,” she answered. “It belongs to you now, Crystal Flame.”
“I am Crystal,” I agreed, wondering how she knew. “But my last name is--”
“No, I do not mean your given name,” she interrupted. “The person that the necklace sees in you is Crystal Flame.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, but she only smiled knowingly.
“You must discover what that means on your own; it would be wrong for me to presume to tell you who you are.”
I blinked in confusion and looked down at the crystal necklace in my hand. It sparkled beautifully in the sunlight, but the flicker of fire I had seen in it was gone. I would have wondered if I might have just imagined the light in it earlier except that I was certain the gypsy woman had seen it too.
“Is all your jewellery magical?” I asked.
She smiled that wise smile again. “Magic is only obvious in the hands of someone who possesses the power to use it.”
“So…” I said, still asking questions even though I did not fully understand her answers, “you want me to keep this? For free?”
“No, the necklace will keep you,” she corrected cryptically. “And it is not free; I ask a promise from you in return. When your fire turns to ash and you have faced yourself and won the wisdom that will be yours, seek the tarnished ship. There is a girl in my caravan, Elexoria. She doesn’t know it yet but she was meant to lead. She will be someone important someday, and you must help her fulfill her destiny. When you find the Ark, you will find Elexoria; tell her that I sent you to join her and your debt to me will be repaid.”
“So as payment for this necklace, you want me to find your friend Elexoria someday?” I summarized. “But how will I find her? And how will I know when to look for her?”
“When the time comes, you will know.”
“Ok…” I said, not entirely convinced.
“You must promise to do this,” she insisted.
“Ok I promise to find and follow Elexoria when fires turn to ash and stuff. Is that everything I need to know?”
“One more thing, Crystal: you have a great gift. Use it wisely.”
“I will try,” I promised.
She gave me another piercing look, and I caught a hint of sadness or regret this time in her grey-silver eyes, as though she had just placed an unknowable burden on the shoulders of a little girl still far too young to handle the responsibility of her eventual future destiny; and, perhaps, as though she wanted to tell me something more but couldn’t.
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