WorldEmber2018
Created by

Miaqirelle Ianhana

Miaqirelle Yvette Ianhana (a.k.a. Mia )

My name is Miaqirelle Ianhana, though my friends and colleagues refer to me as Mia. You can refer to me as that too, because by reading this, that makes us colleagues in research. That's what you're doing, right? Researching my life? Well, I suppose I better get into the meat of it.   When I was born, my parents knew I’d have magic. They went into being parents knowing they’d bring another magic-user into the world. Nothing wrong with that- they’re good people. They raised me right, taught me to treat people as I’d wish to be treated, taught me the basics of how to make a living when I got older. Nothing out of the norm for the duties of parents, though I must say I got lucky with these two, knowing how some parents can be. But I took them for granted. I wanted more than just a “lifestyle”; I wanted more. I babbled much more than the average baby, speaking my first words at an incredibly early age. My mother doted on me and taught me to read early. My father tutted her, saying that I was too young and wouldn’t understand, but by 3 or 4 I was already reading aloud to myself. By 4 I was fascinated with books, especially the books my mother kept from when she was younger about investigators who had to solve mysteries. I would run around the house with my juice in hand, prodding at my stuffies about “who was it that ate the cookie out of mother’s jar?” Eventually I even began searching for clues to these small mysteries. Naturally, it was my father who stole the cookies, and when I told my mother she kept a more watchful eye on his trips to the kitchen.   Now is the time to introduce my esteemed brother: Aederys, elder by 7 or 8 years. My brother was a hardhead. Always focused on work. He’d scold me for playing “my useless pretend games” running around the house, but I knew too much about him. By the time I was 7 or 8, I already had him around my thumb, blackmailing him into being nice to me by saying if he didn’t, I’d tell mom and dad about his girlfriend sneaking over using my brother’s magic. My brother was more adept in the ways of stealth magic, such as muffle and invisibility, but he kept it to himself. He was a carpenter by day, working hard in the sun because he knew how it had to be done. I respect that, since he really did know it and wasn’t just a blowhard— the humans, however, would get a little gruff with him. Whenever they found out his main magic on was stealth on the worksite, they’d ridicule him, calling it a thief’s magic and making “no honor” jokes. He paid no heed. He just worked, and did it well, and his bosses paid him well for it. He was first to be picked for new foreman when he turned 21, regardless of the tenure of the humans and dwarves on the job. And what many non-magic users don’t know is that us magicians don’t have just one school of magic we stick to... but enough about Aederys.   Back to me. I did inevitably grow out of my “pretend investigator” phase, but I never grew out of my thirst to know more. My parents recognized I was interested in magic for more than just party tricks: I wanted to use it for good. I started going to the library when I was 9, and by 10 I was using it for legitimate research. My mother would always dote on my for staying out too long by myself, but my dad shrugged. “Better that you can take care of yourself, and if you’re being productive in the meantime, that’s all we can ask of you.”   My first question: why are elves more inclined towards magic? What makes magic in a person? Is it bloodline, or does simply learning it early create the aptitude?   Questions like these swirled around me, and I soaked up every word to understand it. In the meantime, however, I got to know the librarian well.   I went to a smaller library then. He was an older man. A human by the name of Oswin. He was incredibly nice to me: he often gave me sweets when I came in, a mint or caramel to suck or chew on while I picked a spine off the shelf and took a seat by the sunny window. Over a year of coming to read books (still whodunits at this point), and he often talked with me about what I was reading. I specifically remember reading an interesting book: a non-magic user man was investigating a magic user who conjured bugs. The bug user had killed his wife in a most gruesome way (stung to death and eaten by a swarm of conjured wasps), then fled the city. The investigator followed his trail over a couple chapters and finally found him in a remote shack on the edge of a rough town, and cornered, the ex-husband came clean: his wife had cheated on him, and plotted his murder so she wouldn’t face the social repercussions. When she brandished the knife, he tried to talk her down, but she revealed her true feelings and intentions and lunged, and all he could do was defend himself. He fled, the insects still crawling and her still screaming. Oswin listened intently as I recounted the tale. Awkwardly, he pointed at my sharp ears. “Are you a magic-user?” I nodded nonchalantly. He chuckled. “That’s quite a sought-after skill in this culture. I wish you well with it. In the meantime, would you like to try a game with me?”   For a couple months, we tried a few different games. Three dragon ante, checkers, rock papar knife; always I beat him at Dragonchess. How many times he’d bet a sweet he’d beat me this time, and how many times I’d come home and my mother would lightly scold me about taking care of my teeth. My parents met Oswin a couple times, thinking he was a nice enough old man when they needed to drop off books I forgot to return.   At age 12, I sat in the high seat in court, recounting the tale. Remembering the sound of his flesh ripping. His screams. His terror. Seeing his body turn purple, then a sickly green as hundreds, perhaps thousands of wasp stings coursed their ugly poison through his bloodstream. But worst of all was remembering the tear of fabric before the wasps: his labored breathing. I felt nothing but void as I thought about how this man I had trusted so long as a sweet old man to play chess with, turned into a monster. My nightmares a wildfire, his existence now a dry cedar forest on a hot day.   I was so used to accepting his sweets, I thought nothing of it when he offered me lunch. A special occasion, he called it. “Today is the day I’ll beat you at dragonchess!” I giggled, because I knew the celebration was for naught. Of course I’d win. I knew the game only too well. But that game never started.   I’m not sure which part of the food was drugged. The sandwich? The juice? The tart? Any of it might have been, but I cleaned that plate to spite his efforts at a pre-celebration to his inevitable defeat.   So... I started cooking for myself. I wouldn’t let mother cook for me anymore unless I watched. And I watched intently. Soon I could make her recipes, and I flipped through her cookbooks, learning to cook for myself. I would always go above and beyond, of course. It was just in my nature to make the most complicated recipes, and I’d use even simple ingredients to make the most gourmet and challenging dishes possible. When I first started, I experimented with flavors a lot. My family often found my dishes anywhere from odd to gross, but over time they acclimated their palates and I improved my flavor combinations.   By 17, between having found a new library and always cooking for myself or the family (much to my father’s delight, and my mother’s slight sadness that the family now liked my cooking better), it wasn’t hard to find work at the tavern. They started me off first doing tricks in the parlor, but I begged enough they finally let me make a dish. The barkeep, Rothor, became entranced watching me make the dish: I made it with flair, grace and style, incorporating magic into the performance and showing off as I made it. When I finally finished, the presentation on the plate was gorgeous: fish on spinach with a side of rice and a spicy mustard sauce to dip in, topped with mint.   Rothor was a smart man, even if he was a dwarf. He knew business when he saw it. He moved the grill out to the middle of the restaurant and said “okay Mia. Go out there and make some food.” From that day, the tavern became much more lively. Even the snobs from the Spire came in to check out the Graceful Gourmet every once in a while. Not that I was of any critical acclaim, necessarily: just a neighborhood novelty. But I loved it, because it let me try new dishes and practice my magicks at the same time. Life is good at this point. This brings me to when I met my best friend: Fen. God, she’s great.   Her and I met in the merchant square: her the merchant. I had a hole to burn in my pouch, and when I saw her sets of Dragonchess, I was intrigued. Arrogant, I played my favorite move off the bat: setting up a defense and castling into an aggressive push from the backline forward. Within 4 turns, she had me at checkmate. Smugly, she pointed at the massive hole between my bishop and knight pointing right at my dragon, nowhere to run. I admitted defeat, and handed over the coin, but as I held the coin pouch out and she reached for it, I snatched it away. “I’ll pay for a round of drink if you’ll play me again.”   From then on, Fen and I were good friends. We confided in each other, spent time with each other often, and even let up on our goals a bit to make room for this new person. She’d stay in the city longer to spend time with me, and I’d often go out to the forest with her so she could get away when work allowed.   And this brings us to the present. What lies in store for us, I’m uncertain, but I do know... I feel like something special is about to pop up in our lives. I look forward to a future with my friend.

Physical Description

General Physical Condition

Slim, tall, and graceful, Mia is a fair and beautiful young woman. Spry and invigorated.

Body Features

Fair skin, medium-long hair, thin frame, small-medium bust

Facial Features

Sharp, open eyes. High cheekbones. Dainty nose. Rosy cheeks.

Physical quirks

Right-handed, swinging walk.

Special abilities

Magic user. Specializes in conjuration, but can branch to evocation and abjuration occasionally.

Apparel & Accessories

Enjoys greens, yellows, deep reds, and playful blues. Can often be seen wearing flashy, collared robes out to enjoy lunch with her friend. When on the clock, however, she thinks donning a chef hat is cute and often wears a low-cut apron/common cotton combo.

Specialized Equipment

Great at brewing her own fruity ales, and cooking meals. Specializes in conjuration magicks.

Personality Characteristics

Motivation

Dreams to solve some of the mysteries of magic, such as where it comes from or how to make non-magical people magical. Her personal favorite mystery is to find the ultimate magic, if there is any.

Savvies & Ineptitudes

Great at games and puzzles.

Likes & Dislikes

Likes: mysteries, cooking, and her friend Fen. Dislikes: food she didn’t make, hard liquor, cows.

Virtues & Personality perks

Honest, open. Calming. Independent.

Vices & Personality flaws

Hard to please. Hard to impress. Quick to dismiss people or ideas she finds uninventive.

Personality Quirks

Goes to bed very late, and therefore wakes up late.

Hygiene

Very good at making sure she stays clean and smells good, but has more of a sweet tooth than she cares to admit.

Social

Contacts & Relations

Fenwyse

Family Ties

Aederys, mother, father

Religious Views

Respects the existence of the elven deity, but does not worship

Social Aptitude

Flirtatious in mannerisms, sway in walk, cut down side of skirt, low cut shirts, etc., but dismisses men constantly. Knows she’s pretty and flaunts it, makes it a hobby of turning men down. Great etiquette and professionalism at work, and relatively professional in recording research.

Hobbies & Pets

Likes bugs. Keeps a small atrium in her room, teaching the insects to live in harmony together regardless of species by trial and error.

Relationships

Fenwyse Wildcloak

Friend (Vital)

Towards Miaqirelle Ianhana

4

Honest


Miaqirelle Ianhana

Friend (Vital)

Towards Fenwyse Wildcloak

5

Frank


History

Met in the merchant square while Fenwyse peddled some wares. Played some dragonchess together, Fen won, and so the bond formed. Whether enjoying nature or a drink together, they often find themselves in the other’s graces.

Nicknames & Petnames

Mia calls Fenwyse Fen, but only Mia is allowed do that.

Relationship Reasoning

Great compatibility as friends.

Alignment
Neutral good, lean chaotic.
Current Location
Urthspyre
Species
Elf
Year of Birth
444 (21 years old)
Biological sex
Female
Eyes
Deep green, inquisitive
Hair
Long, thrown into a high ponytail, blonde
Height
5’11
Weight
130
Known languages
Common, Elvish, Halfling
Character Prototype
Similar to Merlin from Seven Deadly Sins, or Megumin from Konosuba.

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