Xanthe Ezriska

[Xanthe Ezriska]

» Name: Xanthe Ezriska
» Titles: Ardentian Empress and Queen of Noctivagus
» Age: The host body is 37 years of age.
» Gender: The host body is female.
» Race: The host body is of demonic origin.
» Height: 5'6"
» Weight: 117 lbs
» Birthdate: August 4
» Marital Status: Too frivolous a thing to ever consider.
» Picture: × Click ×
» Weapons:

Concealed weaponry is the material killer of choice, whether it be in the form of small daggers, stars, or needles. The Empress is always prepared to take out the unwise and unpermissable face who might sully her good Court with whatever treachery, killing in the way of mortal men before one may blink, if only to make the example that she can. It is rumored that most of her items are crafted herself, though one would naturally be a fool to disregard the Court presences of some of the best metal and blacksmiths of both Noctivagus and Cimmerii Valley. Either way, all of her weaponry – all varying widely to what she is wearing and how much she can hide on any particular day – is custom made, balanced and fitted specifically for her use and all bearing a magically enhanced brand that forces her mark to burn into the flesh of the victim, much in the manner of the Scorch Mark Killer's brand. The mark is always the same, acting as a signature and a deeper reminder and mental image to last for ages to come – a serpent coiling around a spider.

» Power:

It was once believed that Xanthe Ezriska had no power, as it was very much insinuated that she had lost it through whatever horrible act that forced her to become so physically damaged and permanently marred. However, her rise to power in the first place makes many believe that she has retained or regained her demon will, though it has never actually been witnessed, and those few who might survive the wrath of the Ardentian Empress' magics hiss tales of shadow and fire – darkness and light – spinning together like a nightmarish inferno, while her demonic gifts permit screams and echoes to viciously torment the mind of those being punished. Still, never have these powers been officially seen or documented, but even the rumors have left many to assume the worst and fall into line.

» Skills:

Leading with a vicious hand, as is, at the very least, shown in her prominent lack of use of whatever dark powers she wields. Knowing well that what one can't see is far worse than all that they can, the demoness has taken a liking to toying with the fragile psyche of most of her subjects, playing with her quickly developing knowledge of psychology and falling amused to their predictable reactions. Persuasive even without the outward use of will, in spite of her initial lack of charisma, the strange speaking creature that is the Empress has only grown more knowledgeable of Dustanova and it's inhabitants – a dangerous learned skill indeed.

» Appearance :

It is only her long hair, an ebon mess that is generally brushed but always left down and unstyled save for a set of choppily cut bangs at her forehead, and her regal dresses that tell Xanthe as female at all. While her face is forever stained with burns, scars, and disturbingly blackened marks as if her pigmentation is forever bloodshot and spoiled, it is also considerably boyish in it's actual born features. Without all things that mar her flesh, it is likely that she would have been regarded once as a 'plain jane' type of girl, with nothing traditionally striking or beautiful to her features. Her lips are forever blackened which seem to help mildly in the fact that they aren't granted any sort of fullness to compete with the beauty that roams so rampantly throughout Dustanova, and the golden skin tone that so freely graces the demonic race seems to only appear in strange patches across her flesh while the rest nearly seems robbed of it.

Skinny and seeming to lack in any eyecatching curves that would claim her as womanly in spite of being fully grown, Xanthe does not seem to mind, or perhaps even be aware, of the fact that the only innocent gazes – innocent as in, when she is not commanding and demanding all attention and focus upon herself – cast in her direction are because she is so horribly damaged or sickly. Her amber eyes, framed by more of that horrible mix of black and crimson rising to her skin, seem blissfully nonchalant about all that she does, widened but never burning with any sort of emotion, with the effect only worsened by how they nearly seem glazed with transluscent cataracts.

Her steps have grown less clumsy in eighteen years, as if those terrible things that plague her have learned to walk on her bipedal body. Still, she is not exactly the epitome of catlike grace and her constant fidgeting, most prominently in her hands and fingers should they be lingering idly, is further indication of all of those bizarre little ticks that the woman is almost as well known for as her furious and fearstriking leadership of two collective races.

Her clothes have taken a romantic approach to looking unkempt, as if her style is really no style at all. With a combination of spiderweb laces and black veils, long skirts and intricately detailed sleeves, Xanthe nearly looks like a more murderous version of a child who's tried to dress herself for the first time, with nothing perfectly tailored as if she was never of a mind to simply sit and wait for as long as was necessary – some folds fitting their mark here, others draping loosely there. What does fit, however, is the uniquely crafted, black and silver tiara, encrusted with red and orange gems, that sits as her visible and traditional sign of power within the Ardentia Empire.

» Personality:

Surely, no demon was born so broken.

Once, it was believed that the demoness spoke in nothing more than cryptic words never to be deciphered, and that her communication skills were sorely lacking. Now, however, it has been decided by the great and vast majority that her spoken riddles do in fact wield great purpose, and through time or perhaps just the once unnoticed tick of something that snapped correctly in place in her head, Xanthe does possess the ability to speak as understandably as the next person. What decides the moments she uses this skill seems to have absolutely no method though..

Typically when speaking, her words are unfocused and she mentions all fleeting and absent thoughts and imagery that might catch her attentions. In spite of this, however, she retains the regal and commanding tones that would be expected of such a stern ruler, never meek and always laced with serious undertones regardless of how silly it might sound to an outsider's ears. While some people might initially label the warmongering demoness as insane, she will only smile and admit to being different, but merely blessed. Talk of the dragon plague that once touched over Cimmerii Valley years ago – and still continues in some remote areas – will provoke her to abrupt vomiting, and any mention of elves seems to be the only thing capable of rousing her from her usual casual apathy, forcing her into a troubled but never elaborated on rage.

It is said by those who have studied and watched Xanthe and her rise to power closely that the demoness is more than simply a single mind – that she is of two minds, perhaps, or three, or four. She is not always tasting for the flesh and blood and land of the humans and the elves, and when she is allowed to be free from such a vicious state, it has been noted that she could really care less for all things involved. It is not to say that when relaxed she simply meanders away, of course, but that she is more like a child who is thoroughly tickled and more amused than desiring to conquer, continuing on the charade of conquest if only because it's the fun thing to do.

When she is not so casual, however..

.. Well, that is much more apparent. Glendenvale has not always been known as 'The Graveyard' after all.

» History:

Eighteen Years Ago, Le Filet de Meurtre
"Divine intervention is against the laws!" the creature bit hypocritically, but it was too late as, with the surge of the Earth Mother's own brand of darkness in form of the raven and the creature of the Andomen, coupled with the tenko that seemed quite firm about it's need for revenge for it's pains, there was little that the Ombra could do in it's already crippling physical body. It's shadows continued, coupled with vicious outward blows of telekenetic energy but all things were of a nature that seemed unlikely to heed such attacks.

It was a strange way to die. Unnatural in it's methods and so, perhaps, fitting to the beast. As if it were imploding, the body crumpled inwards and collapsed upon itself, and the shadows slowly receded as if it were all being sucked inwards to the source.

And so the Ombra, the insidious beasts that would have taken the world for their own and yet had gone nearly entirely unnoticed save for the handful of brave elves that would defeat them, were cast away in death from their unnaturally made physical form. The abomination was laid to rest and there was peace and smiling faces in Silvanus. Perhaps if they had known where the shadowspawn had really gone, however, their rejoicing would have been nonexistent.

Ripped from their own dimension by the use of a summoning spell of the recently deceased but well known slavetrader, Lord Nerub, the death of the Ombra's physical body meant little with Nerub having been laid nearly unconscious before their demise. The portal that they were supposed to be torn back into was closed with the demon's lack of focus, and the shadowspawn, in their darkest and more spiritual form, were trapped here. Still, in death and weakened, they were forced to submit to the laws of our world and, like ghosts, scoured the regions in search of a suitable body to host them out of fear or forever being nothing but apparitions. In what seemed like lifetimes to them but was truly only moments to their body dying, the Ombra found their victim and seized the opportunity.

Her named was Xanthe Ezriska, and she had been a fine apprentice student at Dante's Academy. Strong and talented, she had achieved honors and high marks thoroughout every test thrown in her direction, and many of her elders marveled at the young demoness as a future woman of substantial power, both naturally and politically.

All of it meant nothing, however, with the coming of the Dragon plague..

Eighteen Years Ago, Dante's Academy
So there she laid, blood dripping from the corners of her lips and her eyes, then brown and more fitting to her plain appearance, fixed upon the ceiling as she was sure of her final hour. The beast that had taken residence within her had decided that it had taken it's fill, and now was prepared to escape it's temporary casing like a hatchling in an egg. She could feel it writhe within her body, and practically hear it's excited shrieks as it began to tear at her flesh, trying to escape. She would have screamed, but her voice was hoarse from so many yells before, and within an abrupt instant it nearly felt like she had lost control of her body anyways.

The Ombra forced into her flesh and soul, her will fading to her death and so her mind and would-be corpse accepting of anything that could save it. Within moments, their darkness seeped into all of the flesh it wanted to keep, encasing her vitals in their shadow and for an instant making her completely black while they shut out the hatchling from their obsidian gift. It was then that they forced her fire, enveloping her in her own demon's heat to kill anything unprotected. Her body writhed in pain as her hatchling was burnt and continued to be until it was nothing more than ash for her still living body to consume, and with her innards and such being the most protected because of being the most vital, her skin was far less than saved from the scorching flames that took over her form for over two agonizing hours – far longer than even demon flesh was ever meant to endure.

But then it was done. Xanthe lived, and the Ombra had a host.

Still, the ordeal already taking it's toll on her mind, she is only made worse by how the voices of the Ombra, as they are referred to as a collective one but truly are three, hiss and force, demand and push in the back of her head. They have taken all of her powers for themselves, a frightening prospect for any demon, and will on a whim take over her conscious mind as they see fit.

Xanthe Ezriska as was once known lost her hatchling and was not to be an egg-casing, but it seems, unfortunately, that she is still – and will forever be – a puppet.

In the end it was through the Ombra's will that Xanthe clawed her way upwards through the Noctivagan heirarchy, having traveled to the land of the vampires with few meetings on her journey. Of those that she did partake in, she always referred to Noctivagus as the 'land of the crownless, where the sun rises but never is seen', most likely because the Ombra that had given her such demands and words did not know the actual name of the place to which they traveled. Still, their worldly ignorances mattered little in the end as the first steps of their plans were realized within ten years, and continue on now to the final stages..

Revenge is a beautiful thing.

[Meleth Darkshine]

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