Post by Astharoshe Azhrarn on Apr 15, 2011 18:37:05 GMT -5
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Characters Personal Information
Name: Astharoshe Azhrarn
Gender: Female
Age: 34
True Age: 986
Hair Color: Golden with a streak of crimson down the center-front
Eye Color: Golden Brown
Skin Tone: Pale
Height: 5’11”
Weight: 158 lbs.
Sexual Orientation: As far as anyone knows; Hetero, though it has been questioned several times.
Talent: Wind Communion
What Does It Do?: She is able to speak to and be spoken to by wind, and really any moving air. To her the mere force of nature is like a sentient being, and she is able to hear and see everything that it has borne silent witness to.
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What Are They Like?
Likes:
Plants
The ocean
Seclusion
Death
Wine
Baths
Harp music
Dislikes:
Blood
Screams
Crying
Self pity
Egotists
Turn Ons:
Red hair
Blue eyes
Smaller
Polite
Shy
Turn Offs:
Tall
Cruel
Lustful
Sadism
Arrogance
Nervous Habits:
Murmuring
Glancing to the side and down
Staring
Freezing up
Fears:
Dieing before she has her vengeance
Being unable to attain said vengeance
Finally achieving said vengeance
Living
Appearance:
Her normal outfits are an old fashioned affair, something that one might expect of an elder boogie more than they would one who had yet to even reach their first millennium. To begin with she wears a white shirt with a high, ruffled collar that rises almost to the bottom of her jaws, parted in the front; likewise the sleeves cover her entire arms. Ending in ruffled cuffs. Above this is a more extravagant coat, covering the collar of her undershirt whilst only coming down her arms a bit and remaining open in the front. These coats are accented along each and every edge with gold stitching and come in various colors, mostly dark blues or muted purples. Around her midsection is a leather corset like piece of armor, also accented in metals that appear cold yet are actually much harder. Below these she wears red silk pants, almost entirely covered by white leather boots that extend to mid thigh.
It has always puzzled the members of her family as to why she was so long without marriage, as she is far from distasteful. Hair that seems to be living gold cascades around a heart shaped face; intent eyes of a golden brown set into the face above a delicate nose and lush lips. The rest of her body is just as pleasing to the eye as her face, slim and lithe yet still muscular and voluptuous; and her long legs only add to her appeal. The skin beneath her clothing however, that being most of her body besides her face, is covered by a vast and gruesome array of scars, something that has marred her beauty irreparably.
Personality:
If three mere words could sum up Astha, they would be as follows: Cold, calculating, and merciless. She is as intelligent as it comes, far surpassing boogies ten times her age in the sheer amount of knowledge and insight she seems to possess of even the most mundane aspects of Wonderland. This sharp mind is almost completely unclouded by the emotions that fog the intellects of others and so easily lead them astray. Happiness, lust, desire, jealousy; none of them ever enter into her mind on any occasion, no matter the circumstances. If one were to ask her and get a response, something that would not happen under any circumstances, she would tell them that her existence has boiled down to only two emotions, with two more occasionally butting in. For the most part she feels only despair and a deep, soul rending agony that she has never once explained to anyone, not even her husband. The other two are cold fury and pure loathing, the combination sometimes sending her into an uncontrollable rage at seemingly random moments.
When it comes to dealing with others she is most always cold and businesslike. Family is of course no exception, especially since family and business are two things that are almost impossible to differentiate between when one is an Azhrarn. Like her grandson she makes it a point to know anything and everything there is to know about absolutely everyone, be they nobleman or slave child. Unbelievable to most, though, is the fact that she does absolutely nothing with this information. There is no blackmail or bribery, no back alley deals with this boogie, she merely feels the need to be informed. Make no mistakes however, should one cross her every bit and piece of the information she has collected concerning them would suddenly become very public knowledge. Thereafter, whether due to her razor tongue or razor spear, their life would be abruptly ended.
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How Their Life Is / Was
Father: Sagradan Azhrarn -1,202
Mother: Hagia Azhrarn - 1,159
Siblings: Igne Azhrarn - 715 (Brother/Husband), Sforza Azhrarn -229 atd (Younger sister- Deceased)
Children: Wyzin Azhrarn - 623 (Son)
Familiar: A female Haast’s Eagle, named Umbram for her obsidian plumage.
History:
Though most who were so would not willingly admit it, like many Astharoshe was born into the somewhat….less than noble Azhrarn family. She was the first of her parent’s children, born when they were only a few hundred years old; not surprising by conventional boogie standards but common practice for her family. From the very beginning it was obvious that she was a lovely child and would grow to be a stunningly beautiful woman. Her parents greatly admired this trait; not for what it would mean for her but what it would mean for them. With her attractiveness assured it was certain that she would be able to acquire any man she desired, no matter his rank or standing. This would of course mean that were she to marry up then her, and by extension her family’s, social standings would improve greatly.
It was for this that she was raised, all other considerations being secondary or nonexistent. She never knew what it was to have ‘friends’; there were no other children near her family’s home besides the slaves, and she was forbidden from interacting with them any more than was absolutely necessary to ensure that they served as they were meant to. Along with the lack of children, was a lack of parenting, her parents being away on ‘business’ almost constantly. Because of this she was almost always alone, occasionally a boogie being sent to educate her in the proper methods and to fine tune her refinement to make sure that it was up to current standards. It never really mattered to her, she knew know other way to live and was thus unaware that there were any others; beyond the aspects of master and slave of course.
Due to her upbringing she grew to become exactly the woman that her parents had always planned she would be; beautiful, graceful, well mannered, properly cultured, and refined. As was only to be expected she had any number of suitors from every tier of society in Wonderland; all the way from those lower even than her own station to those oh so powerful Elders themselves. Rather than choose a single one she allowed them all to court her simultaneously, earning the approval of her family and the further infatuation of nearly all of them. There were, of course, those that did not wish to wait or to share her and so they either abandoned the attempt as futile or went to more covert methods; namely eliminating their opposition, whether by their hand or another’s.
For a short time seeing and courting suitors became her whole life, and it was indeed a life to be envied. Whatever she wished there was always someone who could supply it for her, someone to pamper her in every way imaginable. It was for this precise reason that it came as such a shock to not only her suitors but every, family and ‘friends’ and slaves alike; when she suddenly dismissed all of her suitors and refused to see any more. Despite every protest and request her parents could think of, even abject begging and pleading, there was absolutely nothing that could change her mind on the matter. Asking as to why she had made such a decision all on her own was just as futile as she would not let even a hint of her reasons slip for anyone to find. No one ever knew what or why such an astounding event had occurred, but whatever the reason it was clear to al that nothing could be done in the matter.
Due to this abrupt change in Astha’s behavior that intentions were turned instead to her newborn sister, all of the family’s aspirations falling to her. Sforza was raised differently from her sister however; the difference being that Astha took a direct and total intervention in her sibling’s life. Whereas she had constantly been alone beyond the few and occasional teachers, Sforza was almost always accompanied by her sister, and it was her sister that taught her each and everything that she might need to know. The lessons were a bit more difficult to take with her though since, unlike her elder, she was rather cheery and easily distracted. This was not to say that she was ignorant however; on the contrary, Astha was astounded by her unique intellect more times that she would ever be able to count in all of her immortal life. It was instead that she simply tired of the endless and tedious lessons and yearned for what she knew there had to be beyond the walls of her home, out there in the vast expanses of Wonderland that she’d only heard of. Perhaps it was this restless nature, so unlike her own, that drew Astha to her younger sister, for the two of them grew ever closer with each passing day they spent together; and make no mistake, there were many.
After a fashion Sforza, just like Astha, grew to be a truly beautiful young woman that was envied and desired by many in Wonderland. She did not pick and choose her suitors as her sister had however; no, her parents had seen their mistake in that matter and so had chosen to take matters into their own hands so that they would not be so grievously disappointed a second time. Instead they themselves chose who it was she would marry, arranging the affair with the man’s father before they informed either of their children of the matter. Astha protested the matter, rather vehemently, but all of her words were summarily ignored. It didn’t help her case that Sforza was rather taken with the young man; he being a very handsome, even in Astha’s opinion, young noble that was rapidly rising through the ranks of boogie society, something that the Azhrarn’s had always aspired to but had yet to achieve. It was sometime but the elder sister finally, if grudgingly, agreed to go along with the whole thing.
Though she may have agreed to be a participant she had no intentions of watching from the sidelines. When it came time for Sforza and the man to meet for the first time she insisted on accompanying her sister, her parent’s agreeing because they could see no harm in it and, indeed, possibly some profit; she always assumed that his father had agreed for the very same reasons. It was a rather pleasant day, she had to admit. Spring had just fully taken hold, blooms and new life sprouting everywhere one looked. Since the meeting was in an outdoor there were aplenty of sights to behold; everything from flowers clustered in neat rows to bushes bursting with colors to new green trees filled with the chatter of birds and the rustling of little mammals. Her eyes calmly and graciously took in everything as they walked along the neat little paths to where they were told to meet her sister’s new husband to be. Sforza on the other hand made no attempt to hide her fascination at the wonders surrounding her, and gleefully pointed out everything that piqued her interest to her smiling sister.
Soon enough they arrived at a small gazebo set roughly in the center of the garden. Atop it was an ornate table, fashioned from some sort of metal that made it look to be carved from a single, giant mass of obsidian that was flecked with veins of silver throughout. It was a truly masterful piece, one that one would fully expect to reside within a palace and yet at the same time seemed perfectly at home within the garden. However while Astha was entranced by the table, her sister was likewise entranced by the man seated at it. When both of them finally overcame their fascination they moved across the smooth expanse of new grass to the small structure, seating themselves at the remaining seats just as the man raised his glass to his lips.
Sforza eagerly began conversing with the man she was to marry, something that Astha only found odd in that her sister was the only one speaking during it. She only half paid attention to words she already knew by heart, her sister having rehearsed the entire scenario with her for days until she was certain she could hear the words in her sleep. Instead she allowed her gaze to drift over the beautiful array of plantlife that swept all around her. The garden really was a lovely place, one that she would greatly enjoy visiting time and again in spite of the circumstances that doing so would require. It was an uplifting sort of place, one that made her smile in spite of herself; the boogie woman even giggling softly as she watched a pair of chipmunks chase each other up, over, and around a pair of small trees. The only pall on the whole scene was the odd gurgling sound that seemed to come from just behind her. It sounded a lot like a stream but she was certain that there was none anywhere near.
She turned to find the source of the sound, and instantly saw that it was not behind her, but beside her. Her sister sat in the chair next to her, her eyes wide and bulging. The gurgling came from the fact that she was choking on her own blood, a small silver spoon that had been part of the tea set shoved through her throat. Astha was stunned by the sight, completely frozen as she watched as the spoon was twisted and ripped upwards, splitting Sforza’s throat open from base to chin. Through the gap she could see the inside of her neck and mouth; the ridges where her spine lay, her tongue drooping down into the newly formed gap, her uvula mashed against the roof of her mouth. When the table was shoved against her middle she jerked forward, the blood spurting from her ripped jugular shooting out and splattering into Astha’s hair and down her face. As she slumped forward from the impact the man grabbed her by her ruby locks and ripped her from the seat, effortlessly tossing her to the lawn where she lay twitching as she slowly and painfully died. It seemed to Astha that her eyes looked straight into her own; silently pleading for her to save her from the pain and the darkness. But she couldn’t, there was nothing she could do, she couldn’t even move. All she could do was watch in helpless horror as her sister died before her very eyes.
Without the slightest hint of care, completely emotionless as though nothing at all had happened, the man simply picked up a napkin and carefully cleaned the blood that was covering the spoon. Once it was spotless he cleaned a few stray droplets from his gloves, not saying a word as he crumpled the napkin and stirred his tea with the very spoon he had just used to murder the girl. It was minutes, she was never sure just how many, before Astha could even fully realize what had just happened, let alone think or act. Several more passed before her senses returned to her, and with them a rage the likes of which she had never known. Time flew quickly then as she screamed in fury and despair, before she ever even knew what she was doing she had launched herself across the table and grabbed the man by the throat. Unable to think she began to claw at him, to hurt him, to do anything she could to cause him pain and death. She had no idea of the mistake she had made until she felt a sharp thud in her middle and looked down to see his wrist sticking out of her stomach. The frozen helplessness set upon her once more, and she could only stare with a sort of detached numbness as her ripped his hand out and her intestines with it. No sooner had he done that than the spoon immediately came up, ripping across her midriff and over her left breast before jerking to the right, cutting a deep gash across the top of her chest. As if this were not enough his leg swept around, shattering the bones in her own just as his arm came down on hers, the cracking sound as the bones so sickening that she would have thrown up had her insides not been hanging down the front of her dress. The last thing she was aware of was that gloved fist swinging towards her, the ground rushing up as the same sound reached her ears at the same time she felt her jaw collapse.
The next time she awoke was sometime later, no one bothered to tell her when it was. It wouldn’t have mattered really, she was only lucid for brief bursts of time where she was aware of nothing but sound and color; the former dwindling less and less as the periods of awareness wore on. It never really mattered to her, nor did the pain. All she could think was that she was dieing; she hoped every second she would, if only to free herself from the sight of those eyes staring at her. Fate would not allow her a respite from her suffering however, and she slowly began to grow stronger. Nonetheless it was some months before she could manage to hobble across her own room, several more before she could walk with nothing more than a slave close at hand.
As soon as she was well enough to move of her own accord her parents immediately set to resuming their conniving ways, presenting her with any number of noblemen in the hopes that her mind would have changed in light of her brush with death. To their despair it had, but not in the way they had hoped. Astha mostly ignored everyone and everything around her, often sitting in her room for days on end simply staring at the wall. They had to send a slave to not only keep track of her, as she had taken to disappearing to silently wander the grounds, but to make sure that she even ate and bathed. Once again it was obvious that she would not name a husband, but now it was something more; with her mindset and horrendous scaring they were positive that she would never marry.
This would not have been a major setback had they another child that could be married off, but that simply was not the case. Their only other child, Igne, was the exact opposite of what his sisters had been as children. Despite his young age, barely a child by boogie standards, he was far too keen on the physical aspects of interacting with others; never hesitating to take a woman that caught his eye, be she willing or no, and never caring what her station or marital status might be. It was plain as day that his whoremongering ways would see him nowhere but to an early grave when he lay with the wrong woman and her husband or family decided not to tolerate the affront. Even if he was not killed he would in all certainty father a huge line of bastard children, thereby ruining forever any chance for the Azhrarns to advance beyond the meager status they now possessed. Between him and his sister, it meant the end of the Azhrarn line, at least their portion.
After careful deliberation, Sagradan and Hagia came to a solution that they saw as the only way out of the dire straights that their children had forced them into; Igne and Astharoshe would marry. It was not an uncommon practice amongst Azhrarns, and it would ensure both that Igne had a means to vent his rampant sexual desires and that Astha would without any doubt provide them with an heir who would, hopefully, elevate them to the rights they believed they deserved. The wedding itself was a rather half hearted affair on all parts; Astha simply not caring, her brother simply impatient for it to be over and done with, and their parents sharing both their sentiments. After the wedding came the real enthusiasm, Igne always having had an eye for his sibling but never having had the courage to cross that particular line with her. Now that he was given free reign to do as he pleased however he did not hesitate or hold back, screwing her as she limply lay there until he passed out from exhaustion, only to resume the activities when he awakened.
Knowing full well what was going on behind the, only sometimes, closed doors of the couple’s rooms, it was no surprise to anyone when she was pronounced pregnant mere weeks after the weeding. Only a year after they were wed, Astha gave birth to a son, Wyzin. He, like his mother and aunt, was educated and isolated, taught what he would need to know to advance in the world and left to discover anything and everything else on his own. Something changed within her due to his birth or, possibly, a combination of that and the internal damage that she had received years previously. Whatever the change and cause thereof, she found herself completely unable to conceive again, no matter how many times she was with her brother and now husband; and never a day went by when she was not with him. It mattered not to Igne or anyone else however; the family had their heir and he had no worries of other children.
Like they all do Wyzin grew and eventually left home, going forth to establish his own proceedings as was intended. Occasionally she would hear word of him, but it was sporadic at best and nonexistent at worst. Despite the lack of communication she was not upset, she knew that he was a busy man and had better things to do with his time than write some woman who had done nothing more for him than to give birth to him. Without him life continued on as it always had; her now personal slave following her about to make sure she did not become lost and that she took care of herself, her family continuing with their schemes and covert machinations, and Igne laying her flat of her back as many times as he could in a day, which varied depending on how many other women he had been with that day. None of it really concerned her, she simply went about life as she would, allowing time and fate to sweep her where they would. It was only on a whim that she decided to leave home for a time and wander about on her own, not even noticing that her slave dutifully followed after her.
Roleplaying Sample: Exempt