SA | Ras'Xuul | Aodh | Merchant Commoner

Ras'xuul

Blame it on Hell's fire, and on my desires
The skies are crying blood

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The Swamp Witch | Astral Tracker

Name:// Ras'xuul (Rah-zhool)
Nickname:// Roz
Age:// 37
Gender:// Female | Mare
Build:// Draft Pony
Color:// Blood bay with brindling | Ee AA
Height:// 14.0 hh
Orientation://Monogamous Bisexual (Strong Female Preference)
Voice Actor:// Catherine Zeta-Jones in Chicago

Herd Affiliation:// Aodh
Rank:// Commoner - Merchant
Patron God:// Ignacio (though it changes on her whim)

Mate:// None
Former Lovers:// Lilith, Ron, Zipporah, Delilah
Familial Relationships:// None

Drive:// Chaos/Destruction
Alignment:// Wavers between Chaotic Neutral and Chaotic Evil

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Personality - ESTP

Like the embodiment of a black hole, she is a force to be reckoned with, a tumultuous swirling chaotic force that will drag you into the inescapable tide. At least you'll be having fun.
Vivacious | Even-Tempered | Straightforward | Generous | Adaptable | Energetic/Restless | Impulsive | Domineering | Destructive | Opportunistic

Vivacious // (especially of a woman) attractively lively and animated

When Roz enters a room, you will always know she is there, laughing and flirting and making jokes, and likely touching you just a little more than is comfortable. She is full of life and spirit, never a frown on her face or a dark cloud hanging over her head. Sometimes her waves of unrelenting enjoyment of life are a bit much to bear, however it does make her an entertaining party guest. Or home intruder.

Even-Tempered // not easily annoyed or angered

Mellow is not a good word to describe Roz, however she is always going to be exactly who she was the day before, and the day before that. She does not suffer from souring of her mood, nor does she find many things irritating, having a long span of patience for others' eccentricities. This is not to be misinterpreted to mean predictable, for she is anything but. Only her mood can be relied upon day to day.

Straightforward // (of a person) honest and frank

Cunning and manipulation are not behaviors that Roz is capable of, or really cares to be involved with. If she says it, she means it wholeheartedly. If you have done something reprehensible (to her skewed moral compass), she will call you out on it. You may not know what her retaliation will be, but at least you'll know to be ready for it.

Generous // showing a readiness to give more of something, as money or time, than is strictly necessary or expected

Roz will give you her absolute all if she enjoys your company, going out of her way to make sure that you know that you are an appreciated part of her life. If you ask, Roz will be there in an attempt to fix things, however she is certainly no knight in shining armor

Adaptable // able to adjust to new conditions

Tying in with her even temper, Roz is an extremely adaptable individual. She always finds a way to make the situation livable, whether it is through humor or creating a distracting scene through her strange propensity for chaos. When the game changes, she’s usually the first one to figure out the way to make something positive out of it.

Energetic/Restless // showing or involving great activity or vitality, to a point where rest is unattainable

Ras'xuul is humming with nervous energy that is simply waiting to get out, and it is usually unleashed in strange and barbaric ways if she has cooped it up too long. She is constantly working on new concepts for her business, and any activity that can satiate the monster within that causes her to be unable to be satisfied

Impulsive // acting or done without forethought

Especially due to her energetic nature, Roz' attention flits from one subject to another constantly, and thus she can be extremely unpredictable. You can never hope to know what Roz will do next, as she doesn't know either until she's starting to do it. It's truly a miracle she's managed to run a business as long as she has.

Domineering // assert one's will over another in an arrogant way

Bull-headed is an apt way to describe the way that Roz bulldozes everyone who gets in her way, either bending them to her will or blasting past them altogether. She does not wait for any indecisive quibbling, nor does she have much faith in other equines to have their best interests in mind. Don't worry, Roz knows better. She'll show you. She also has no cares to give about anything you care about, sorry.

Destructive // causing great and irreparable harm or damage (both to herself and others)

Without realizing it, Roz can run herself, or her relationships into the ground with her overwhelming energy. Not only that, but she is willfully disgusted by most equines and wishes harm upon them for merely existing (it's not personal, stop crying), and is a potential danger to anyone who encounters her. Some unicorns just want to watch the world burn, and Roz would burn her own house down around her if it sounded fun at the time.

Opportunistic // exploiting chances offered by immediate circumstances without reference to a general plan or moral principle

Directly related to her impulsivity, Roz is exceptionally opportunistic, taking every chance that she can get mostly to either entertain herself or to get ahead. She has very little regard for others, or for tradition, so she does what she wants, when she wants with not a thought about how her actions will affect others, or even long-term prospects.

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History

Foal-hood

Ras'xuul came into this world kicking and screaming, a plague upon both her mother and her father, leading to the consequential end of the noble Shasta family. Kro, her father, and Xolkka, her mother, were average unicorns of noble status - ambitious and hedonistic, not a care in the world except for their next thrill and making sure their families stayed within the grace of the crown, as they had for centuries. Never did they expect it to be so. goddamn. difficult. Despite their delicate grooming, their loving forgiveness, their stern steering, Roz fought her parents every step of the way. No, her belligerence and her vitality could not be quelled, and she rocketed through her young life like a bull in a china shop, leaving a wake of her parents' apologies behind her. And as she aged, the more distant they became. Months would pass without seeing one of their faces, as their host of slaves monitored Roz' movements and tried to keep her curiosity from killing herself or others. She was not a Shasta child, not truly. She was the child of chaos, of war, of decadence and decay. Roz would be the ruin of the Shasta name. She would see to it.

Every slave on the block knew that the Shasta household was a fate worse than death, for caring for their filly was as if being thrown into the Pit, though without the rules of engagement. At first, however, it wouldn't seem so bad. Roz was a joyful child after all, and fun to be around, her little mind always whirling around another idea. She was affectionate if she liked you, and was incredibly bright and helpful in some cases. However she sought trouble, or trouble sought her. Her telekinesis strengthened and enabled a disturbingly morbid curiosity. A slave could never be sure if they were going to be snuggling a filly that had run herself into the ground with her wily schemes, or if they were going to be dodging flying cutlery and end up missing an ear while Roz howled with laughter and squealed with glee at the font of blood.

As she grew, so did her interest in causing her parents absolute misery. It did not go unnoticed that the only time she saw either of them anymore was when she had done something particularly treacherous, or savage. Otherwise she was left to the slaves with the dead eyes, their plastered-on smiles, empty inside for fear of being at the butt of one of her pranks in an attempt to relieve boredom which plagued her every second. It was only another child, Ron, that occasionally lifted her from her listless state and away from the destruction she wished to sow. He was an easily controlled colt, which was to her liking, as well as was often left to her own devices as she was. This made him the perfect lackey for her morbid machinations, which more often than not played into his own disturbed and growing interest in death. It was not long, however, until they were separated from one another, as their parents agreed their "proclivities" went somewhat beyond what was a normal indulgence in this life.

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It only took 9 years before her destructive nature tore her entire world asunder, and shaped the rest of her days. Roz had an affinity for mixing potions and seeing what happened, for better or worse. Trials were not well documented, though she kept certain mixtures in the back of her mind as being particularly caustic as she stumbled through various applications. The inside of her head was a constant hive of energy, leading her toward chaos, and in doing so, the idea of 'the Bomb' was created. Roz did her best to replicate another creation she had made prior that had left her with barely any fuzz on her muzzle, and most of her forelock singed off, however did so in mass, running calculations behind the madness that screamed at her daily and itched below her skin. Yes, this would be her masterpiece. Nothing against the royalty, no nothing at all, just collateral damage, her apologies. Her parents had just been missing for so long. She had to find them, and remind them of what evils she could perform.

No one suspected a cute little unicorn filly prancing about, even if it was the Shasta foal, and to their detriment. With the flask of some destructive concoction shoved into a carved out crenelation of the courtyard wall, waiting for some unfortunate soul to jar it free, or for a harsh wind to knock it loose, Ras'xuul's plan simply required patience. Luckily, she didn't need much on that blustery day, for she was a child that sorely lacked such a thing. She herself had scarcely removed herself from the blast radius when the bricks beneath her hooves began rattling, and the marble columns crumbled to the ground.

'It could have been worse,' they said at first, 'at least the royal family hadn't been harmed in The Event.' Two Chevaliers lost their lives, but they were no one in comparison to the King of Aodh, and what were these two in the grand scheme of Roz' childhood bloodlust? 'The child has to be put down, put away, put somewhere where she cannot hurt anyone' it became quickly, as word got out of her latest scheme and its "unfortunate" outcome. They burst down the Shasta door, chains in tow, and fettered the child instantly, and not entirely gently, though she was but a filly. "Find the Lord and Lady of the house. They are summoned urgently." A chevalier announced gruffly, transferring a sealed envelope to one of the slaves, whose expression showed a mixture of relief and dread. Her face spoke of a soaring freedom, a life far far away from that hellish child. A freedom that could not be destroyed by the stain of disgrace when the Lord and Lady of the house found out she had done nothing to save Roz.

Roz did not fight the tide of this new adventure, and perhaps even willed a bit more of the pain that the guards inflicted upon her. Defiance bloomed in her truly that day, as blood ran from her tender nostril and leaked from the base of her ear. And it was in this form that she was shoved into the throne room, before the royal family. A smile cracked Roz' face, a wicked grin that betrayed a sickening lack of remorse for her actions, and her golden eyes darted from King Remiel's to Princess Solaris' and Princess Lilith's, catching for a second as if they had found in her a warped mirror. Chaos danced in her aura as it did in Roz', however the filly received a quick shot to the mouth for staring too long, and the grin became wider. An apology was what they wanted, however what they got was Roz' blood on the carpet and a fit of giggling to echo in their ears. It seemed long, much too long, until the Lady Xolkka and Lord Kro came to her hearing. Their only solace was that it was a private affair.

A glance couldn't be spared for their daughter as they came into the room, almost crawling on their knees, horns pressed into the floor as they bowed before the royal family, begging their hearts out for forgiveness, leniency...but not for her, no...not for their little Ras'xuul. For themselves. They could never truly know their death warrant was signed that day, but you'd hope they imagined it, planned for it perhaps. "Please, we could have never known what she was getting into, your highness...she has always been a willful child, and the slaves, they..." The pleading was silenced with a disgusted shake of the head. With a motion, they were stripped of their titles, as well as their lands. The Shasta name fell to ruin as all did in Roz' wake. Yet now, it simply wasn't enough.

Revenge would have to be put on hold, as she was sent to the prisons, still but a filly in her 9th year.

Adolescence

Her youth after that fateful day was a wasted one, spent in chains behind bars that she could not ever hope to bend to her will, despite her attempts. Lilith's stealthy visits to her cell were how Roz marked the passage of time, and how the two creatures of discord came to be so closely entwined. Though social interaction had never been a strong suit of the young unicorn's, she had a compelling personality that lit up the room as long as her whims were kept directed in more benign ways, and Lilith's own vital spirit matched hers with ease. Never did a destructive thought enter the filly's mind as long as Lilith's energy was in the room, though the two could only meet with bars between them. The princess regaled Roz with the various trials and tribulations of being royalty, including her trips to Aquore, and her swan-dive into decadence. Roz' skin tingled with just the imagining of the depravity that now waited for her beyond the cell doors, every description tempting her curiosity as well as her will to escape. "Take me with you..." she would whisper to Lilith, with a sly smile that spelled only fun and trouble. However all she saw was the inside of that dank cell, for what seemed like lifetimes.

Adulthood

Half her life she spent wasting away in her prison cell, half her life the streets of Valore had been spared her sporadic bloodlust and her vivacious smile. Half her life she had paced the floor long enough to make grooves in the wet stone. Half her life she had spent trying to find a way to fill the hole inside of her that death filled, and perhaps it was her sincere apology that day of her 18th revolution around the sun that earned her her freedom. "I apologize for taking the lives of those Chevaliers, and threatening the lives of the royal family. They weren't worth it." The last muttered under her breath, perhaps, or only into the caverns of her mind. And thus, she was released upon the world once more, a free mare to make of life what she willed.

It was better that she did not have her parents' monetary cushion to help her by, as her energy whirled around the simple idea of staying alive in this outer world. Under Lilith's tutelage, and in her bed, Roz forayed into the world of being a courtesan at the Pearl. Though her sunny disposition and her flirtatiousness lent itself well to the occupation, her skewed moral compass and destructive tendencies did not. Once again, she had to be turned out into the world to find her own, which was a challenge when your only true talents were throwing killer dinner parties and slaughter. Little did she know that the world outside had a market for the removal of equines, and boy when she did know, the mare capitalized.

Spurning the Gilded Bridge in favor of her own humble establishment on the edge of the Darkwater Swamp, Ras'xuul used her powers again for the crafting of dangerous poisons and potions, as well as tainted trinkets with hidden barbs for the subtle injection of deadly neurotoxins. It would be naive to say that she continued to fly under the radar, however to the degree that she has established herself, she cannot truly be brought to heel again either. Thus, Roz plays a dangerous game, dancing the blurred lines of morality on Eithne, and dealing purely in death.

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Random Facts

• Was blessed with Pain Infliction at an early age
• After establishing her business, her need to cause death and destruction has somewhat been quenched, making her safer to be around. Many equines do enjoy her personality without the threat of death.
• She decided to cut off her own leg to remove a brand that she had received to bind herself to a former lover she had met during her time at the Pearl. The wound is still fairly fresh and rather gruesome, however it is beginning finally to form scar tissue. It is assumed that she used her own concoctions to agitate the skin after the removal to encourage the skin to close.
• Once indulged strongly in a polyamorous lifestyle, with her primary partner being Zipporah. Now, since the purchase of her slave, she has rapidly phased into being monogamous, though will never admit to it. Something in the back of her mind repeats, as if a mantra: 'I should stop being a shitbag and devote life to this weird emotionless brick'. Her former partners are overwhelmingly confused.

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Roleplay Sample

It was another one of those nights. Those nights where he could barely think straight with the thoughts that churned so insistently in his head. They nagged at him, reminding him of those days of sweet freedom when he had no one to answer to, no one to get attatched to. She hurt him constantly, and why he allowed it, he would never know. From the moment he saw Her, he knew that She had to be his. Not necessarily in a sexual capacity (She had told him he was quite bad at it, and to get off Her, thanks.) but in a life bond way. Every other relationship that anyone could have on the planet paled in comparison to what he and Lokka had. No one would ever understand it, even Her sometimes. She seemed so distant from him lately, taken up with yet another person whom She loved much more passionately than She did him. She needed him, but yet he was not enough.

And he was kicked out for the evening. She had the audacity to put a cross on the door, which was simply insulting and juvenile, he thought. The cat got to stay in the house, but he did not. The thought made him grind his teeth as he sat there in the hustle and bustle of the Black Boar on a Friday night, an island in a tumultuous sea.

Instinct told people to stay away from him. He was a beautiful human being, with light eyes and soft blonde hair, angelic even. But there was something -off-. Oh how he did give off that ethereal feel to even those who were not magically inclined. While human instinct told them that something was amiss with him, and he was to be admired from afar, human instinct didn't go so far as to shout that this was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Beware, your life is dangling in the balance.

Occasionally the misguided human, or changed human, would come to him and try to do some mating ritual nonsense with him. They were usually drunk or incredibly brazen. More often than not, they were both. And as their superior, he put them in their place. They were infinitely lesser, never good enough for him. Only one was, and She was currently doing whatever it was that She liked to do with a cross on the door. He could only imagine, and it was disgusting.

Kirro drank his glass of water as he sat in the corner, his amber eyes reflecting the scene before him. It was always a rowdy bunch in on Friday nights, he realized, and how he wanted to play with them. He wasn't allowed to play as hard as he liked, of course. Lokka didn't care for when he ruthlessly destroyed, though it was so terribly pleasing. How he missed watching skin melt from the bone, or the look of absolute horror when people saw him at his most terrible. Both were not allowed, among other things, and thus became almost figments of his imagination now. Life clearly had gone on too long when your past became fiction.

• Art © pony-bones
• Template © Starborn-Alignment

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