Xelschea

[Xelschea]

Name:
Xelschea

Age:
Unknown, at least a dozen or so human lifetimes
(Appears to look around the age of 23-24)

Race:
Shade; formerly Half-Elf (Human father/Elf mother)

Appearance:
An almost eerie calmness engulfs most of the features of Xelschea. Standing just above 5'8", she tends to show off her tall side, formerly half-elf in blood, though she only tops the scale at a little over 100 pounds.
Being sickly skinny and pale is something common among other Shades, though mostly her eyes is what people – victims and allies alike- seem to remember more than her grim attire or wiry frame. Her eyes, almost snake-like and full of dry mirth, resemble the color of dried blood after it’s been caked on a carcass for too long. Not fresh blood, but like fiery maroon orbs. Though not outwardly strong looking, those who have lived to tell the tales of Xelschea’s power would say that appearances are fatally deceiving, though it would be shocking to say that her true talents lie in spellcasting which she valued greatly. Her face has the most delicate curve, which subtle white markings can be found gracing her cheekbones, though truthfully they are scars that she did upon herself in a fit of lacking amusement. Her hair is straight and long. Though its base color is livid blonde, almost white, the very tips of her hair give way to very inky black (something more as a side effect when she became a Shade). Her attire is simple but efficient; she normally wears dark shades of red to match her eyes, though black and grey will do if red cannot suffice for the occasion. In battle she wears nothing less than the tightest leather breastplates and body clothing. Covering her wrists are twin maroon leather arm protectors that was carved custom for her. The design etched into the surface resembles that of a dragon and a wolf entwined together behind a blood red sky. On cold nights, a cloak normally adorns her shoulders, made of the softest of velvet, yet among the strongest of Elven fabrics. Clasped to her waist lies her pride and joy, her sword she dubbed “Edoc’sil Blodhren”, which means in Elven tongue “Unconquerable Blood Oath” that lies in a hand crafted sheath made of burgundy leather engraved with silver. The sword itself is tinged with the faintest hint of red, though if asked she would boast that it was because of how many innocents she’s slain with it, and is remarkably light-weight, sturdy, and long bladed. Xelschea has been known for her lack of rest, and suffers from light insomnia, which shows by the thin line of black under her eyes, that make her eyes stand out all the more.
Her smile is like poison, sweet but deadly and twisted into something she is very good at mimicking; a trustworthy person.

Personality:
Although Xelschea might display the face of an angel, one should be wary of her true disputation. With a smooth smile, she can seem very pleasant when she wants to be, but thirsts deep within her and won’t hesitate to do what she thinks is best for herself. She dons her faintly enigmatic behaviors with a proud heart. Her narcissistic manners, void of most other emotion, have yet to fade. She speaks in a melodious voice, although attractive to the ears, her voice is laced with the blood of the innocent on her tongue. With a sardonic sense of fairness, she likes to toy with others emotions, or merely confuse them with her intricate sense of wordplay which might throw many a mortal off. Her twisted sense of humor has often led her into making a person’s darkest nightmares become reality, delighting in the agony and fear they willing (or unwillingly) bestow upon her. She kills not because she has to, but for the shear fact that she can. Inwardly, she is very unstable, and even though she might plan and plot for years at a time, she acts on a whim. She does not take threats lightly. In fact, she hates any sort of mastery above her own. If someone attempts to force something on her in any way, they will most likely feel the fury of a ruthless, yet logical killer. True power, though, hold a deep and understanding respect that only a Shade of her superior status could understand. If she is respected, then most individuals are respected indifferently in turn. Using the years of experience in her favor, Xelschea is nothing short of a mastermind. If one thinks that she is nothing more than a rampaging monster, they are sadly mistaken, for Xelschea possesses the mind of a sly genius, always looking for more ways to increase anything that might benefit her, even if it means pretending to be someone’s alley and tossing them away after the use has been drained from their pathetic corpses. It is common for warriors to underestimate her – before realizing (a moment too late) what horrible mistake they made due to her frailness. On the contrary, this Shade is more than capable when it comes to dealing out heavy physical blows, and withstand onslaughts from her opponents with relative ease. Her strategies and tactics are well molded over the years of her existence – far longer than mortals and passed even the elves in both years and youth. Despite her apparent strengths, she is not perfect, though it would be correct to assume she would address herself as so. Xelschea is naturally power hungry, selfish intensions blocking out all other people from getting close to her heart – figuratively and metaphorically. She is drawn to any power that catches her blazing maroon gaze be it from the side of the Empire, Varden , or in between allegiances. This fact alone makes her untrustworthy with anything asked of her. At best, she is a mercenary, doing what she sees fit to benefit her and her alone, though, of course, anyone could be persuaded. She isn’t above watching mortals groveling at her feet… When her patience wanes, whether it be merely a lowly warrior or another individual that could possible rival her own power, there are times when even the most dignified control is shattered. Her frustration can bare no bounds, and her sporadic, dangerous behavior shines through. It takes a lot to send Xelschea off the deep edge, but don’t risk being the one trapped in her wrath, for when the smile has faded and her temper triggers against the confines of her vast mind it’s clear that nothing will be left standing if the Shade can help it. Her rages aren’t some unthinkable, animalistic fury, though; they are tempered with the subtle hints of strategy and cruelty, eerily shadowing her with an even more sinister figure. Although fear is a dormant memory in the back of her head, she remembers it well. Only when confronted by Death does she reveal an even deeper emotion, something she has long been kept forgotten ; a certain venerability.

History:
Before she felt the sting of becoming a Shade, or even before the thought even crossed her mind, she was born to a pair of merchants that did business with the nobles in town near the main capital of the Empire. As a babe, she was a beautiful child, and grew more beautiful every day to look like her Elven mother. Even at a young age, she was known to be a quick learner, and when she turned five years old, her mother suggested that she take up the apprenticeship of a Spellcaster with a well known Elven wizard that she had grown to know.

Once in the secluded forests inside the wizard’s tower, the wizard, who introduced himself as Urlya, smiled down at the rosy cheeked child and agreed to teach her his trade. The friendly and eager personality of the child overwhelmed him, and soon, a bond was formed. When she turned ten she was already under the impression that she had mastered most of the beginner spells and runes. The Elven wizard swore it was the Elven blood in her that made her so quick to study. Her favorite pastimes was to sneak to the library at night to read about the outside world and what to expect from others of her kind, both human and elves alike, and even picked up a book about the Kull every once and awhile when she grew board with the common Human and Elven books, but she was always caught and sent back to bed. Though she didn’t mind it; the girl adored her old mentor. At the age of fifteen, she was always caught up with her spells, and even though she still carried her curiosity, it was now tampered with the subtle urge after each completed spell. “More! Please, I want something even harder.” Her constant requests made her mentor sterner with her, even though she was beautiful in her growing years, which had always seemed to soften his heart. Smiling to herself, she started to collect ingredients while her mentor’s back was turned, stuffing them into her apron for the secrets that hid until later dark.

At night, she would take out her ingredients and open one of the books she had innocently swiped away with the night before. The title, which would normally strike a certain respect in the eyes of the young apprentices, only added to her ambition to make something that a more skilled magician should handle. Hours until the right concoction was completed, she obediently showed her aging mentor. She expected a smile, good humor, and of course praise for her efforts, but the kind of words she received were the exact opposite. He raised his voice, saying what a fool-hearty girl she was for not obeying him.

From then on, he limited her spellcasting and always sent her to bed early with a sleeping draft given to her by her bedside. Of course, she was wise enough not to take the potion, but soon, anger found its way into her heart. Why didn't her mentor allow her more freedom? She was a very good spellcaster at 15, why not now? A year went by with those feelings trapped inside her, until one day, when she could no longer take his restraints upon her skills, she prepared for a spell, using all the gathered ingredients that she had so carefully gathered over the year. Now she was ready, and with her confidence brimming and happiness finally settling in, she cast the spell. In the midst of her words, her mentor burst through the unlocked door and tried to stop her, but she would not let him ruin it. She spoke the words powerfully, yet one of them was off syllable from when her mentor tried to carry her out of the room.

The spell had gone horribly wrong. Her mentor's dead corpse was the price for her mistake, and as well as his foolishness for entering her room when he did. Shaking her head in disbelief, she tried to reason with herself, telling herself that she wouldn't be found out. She cursed her dead mentor as he stared back at her with lifeless eyes. She had killed him, though instead of feeling remorse, she felt extremely anxious as she felt the power course through her fingertips. Now, she recognized true power; when you can so easily take the life of another, someone powerful itself. The girl wanted more, and more, but she had no idea how to receive it in the portion she wanted. Every night after that, the worst four days of her life, she prepared for something that she had formerly little knowledge of. She had heard about the power of Shades and their darkness and wisdom, but tainted and normally for a price, yet she felt that she already paid the fair of an immortal life of a condemned creature; she had killed the closest thing to her heart. And she felt proud of her accomplishment.

Trembling, she called forth those demons, shadows of the night that heeded her command as she sat surrounded by a good amount of the wizard's collection of forbidden tomes and runes that reeked of power and the tainted fumes of what lie hidden inside the Empire. The darkness consumed her, body and soul and sucked the once rosy life of an eager apprentice into something much more foul, yet beautiful in its own lithe way. She shuttered and lost all sense of her childhood innocence, yet gained wisdom of her murder, and used it to aid her struggle with her demons as she struggled to hold on to their squirming masses as they wriggled like worms inside her. When she awoke from a night of welcoming her shadows, lying in a pool of her own filth, she stood, half covered in her own blood and refuse and smiled, grinning with a grin that enjoyed feeling the life slipe away from another. Her unusually sharpened teeth of a Shade glinted the dull light around her and she left the tower, to start her life anew.

This is how Xelschea came to be, hundreds of years ago...

_____

When she was passed her tenth century, the Shade found herself aching to do something and drew her towards the Empire. She wished to rule, become King Galbatorix’s right hand and none other. Her dreams of conquest began to come true; as she walked through the Empire’s doors and met the infamous King Galbatorix who saw promise in her hungry eyes. Welcoming her with a steady grin, he showed her his kingdom and though he explained little of his plans, he had come to rely on her presence in the field.

She became his right hand, all right, killing all who opposed him and dealt with all who so much as spoke ill about his rule. She took great pride in torturing the prisoners whose alliances laid with the Varden, and even the vagabonds who spread Galbatorix’s rule to the rebel troops that lingered in the safe neutral territories towards the west. She even made a name for herself, and this is why she does not like to give out her name as well as it being a powerful word. Yet in her years of cruel bliss, another tainted soul ventured into the grasp of the King. Durza the Shade, he was called, and was equally welcomed into the Empire’s arms. Xelschea did not spend time around the other Shade unless commanded, but she grew to respect him, and he with her and often they found understanding in each others words. Though they still were commonly indifferent from each other, they found rivalry towards the other quite amusing, unless they were the one that lost.

The female Shade was in the habit of being on Galbatorix’s good side, and it was often that Durza received the most strict of scolding from his King, and Xelschea was happy to continue carrying out her duties. One time, she had infiltrated the Varden’s stronghold when most of the guards were in an important meeting that was about how to deal with the Empire and ways to lead more useful counterattacks. Galbatorix nodded at her success, yet he informed her, in agonizing detail, that when she was gone and Durza out, one of his eggs were stolen by one of the Varden. The King then ordered Durza to bring the renegade dragon egg and the one who stole it from him. Even when time flew by, the search grew more and more desperate. And finally when he returned the dragon egg was no where to be found and without explanation to where it had gone. He did, however, manage to bring back the elf woman who used her magic to send it away from Durza’s clutches. Xelschea was not impressed and blamed him for Galbatorix’s unhappiness.

Though, her feelings soon faded when Durza found out the name of the boy who now had the dragon egg. The King, in better spirits, sent her to spread awarness to his soldiers to expect the boy’s capture, while Durza was left in charge of finding and bringing him to Gil’ead, where the elf woman stayed under heavy guard. The King kept Xelschea busy, so much that she couldn’t have her fun with the “Rider” Eragon when he was caught infiltrating Gil’ead’s stronghold to free the elf maiden, but when she returned, many weeks later, she had found out that the boy was heading for the Varden and escaped Durza. Sensing it was her time to speak up, she spoke to Galbatorix, though remembered to be humble, and asked him how the Rider escaped. He informed her that Eragon had escaped Gil’ead with the elven thief and was heading towards the Varden and Durza and his army of Kull was close on their heels. Inquiring that she follow in hopes to aid her fellow Shade in battle, he sternly shook his head and sent her to spy rather than fight with the escaping Rider an his party.

In one of her livid rages, she complied, white fisted and dragged her troops of Imperial Solders (since she had grown to detest the Urgal and Kull race) through the Hadarac Desert that lay just shy of the Beor Mountains, the direction where the Rider was heading. A top her coal black mount, she followed the Rider at a safe distance, yet still many miles away. She learned what she could from the Rider’s memories while he slept and was unaware of her presence, yet was weary of his steadily growing mental powers.

Durza reached the Varden first and met a well prepared Varden defence as the battle under the great crystal raged. In the midst of the battle, she felt the loss of a great power, one that rivaled her own and understood her in a way that no mortal ever could; Durza had died, murdered by the very blade of Eragon. Her demon’s screamed for vengeance, but all she could do, was pull back her troops from the Varden’s doors and report back to Galbatorix.

Why had her King not sent her with Durza’s troops? Why did he send her another way to merely spy on the Rider in his escape towards the mountains? Inwardly, she cursed the King that she had called the True Power, and swore never to trust his judgments again. She was the one to tell Galbatori the news of Durza’s defeat, yet the King seemed unfazed by the loss. Angered by his reaction, she turned from his presence. Now, it seemed that the King relied more heavily on her than ever, yet in all her duties, Xelschea corrupted them; turning his Soldiers against him in her own sly ways, and outwitting his Riders in many occasions. The Shade still, felt no compassion towards the Varden, and continued to beat down on them whenever possible, but she found her hunger driving her towards beating down unwary Imperials.

She hated all Imperial Dragon Riders, toyed with the pathetic minds of the Varden, and shunned the King. Now, she was prepared for something unstable; the King was suspecting trickery within his ranks, and it would only be a matter of time before his evidence would lead him towards his once so loyal Shade, the first that had happened upon his will. Taking what little things she possessed, her trinkets to her great tomes filled to the brim with strong magic, she departed Galbatorix’s castle, evading the guards as was second nature to her. Hating the all-too-human King, she escaped the clutched of the Empire, and the King was left with a mere memory of his servant no longer. She suspected that he thought her a traitor to his reign now, but Xelschea couldn’t care any less. She blamed him for Durza’s death, as well as Eragons who smote him, and Herself for not disobeying Galbatorix’s orders and entered the fray herself in hopes that his great mind would be spared.


Many Months have come and gone, and still, Xelschea roams unchallenged, but occasionally turns her head towards the Empire, pondering what plots of conquest lie hidden in Galbatorix’s mind. She can be found roaming towns of in Surda and Du Weldenvarden gathering vital information about either side under disguise, or she desires to buy a book she does not yet own from a passing vendor on the streets, though she hates the smell of anything that comes too near her heightened senses, since she must find a certain amount of restrain among crowd filled towns. Her Inner Others mental praise her actions; reminding her that she will only find true power in the mastery of herself, and not in the whim of others. She has learned her lesson about that, and still carries an unfinished grudge with the Imperial King.

Additional:
She does not usually travel on top of a mount, though, she would rather walk even if it meant walking through a thunderstorm, but to pass her time, she has raised a single black raven she has named Rauthr, which in the Ancient Language means "Misfortune". The raven itself is large, yet preened neatly. It has wingspan of about three feet, and its eyes are as black as coals. Xelschea give it as such freedom as any wild bird, but she, in fact, treats Rauthr like a well liked familiar, for a strong bond connects the grim pair. Sometimes, when the Shade wills it, he flies ahead, and acts as her eyes and ears, for he has very acute senses for any common raven. When the bird is not around, she makes do without him, naturally unaffected by his coming and going, acting like his presence does not affect her, though she often looks forward to the black omen's company after a long day of traveling or dealing with unfortunates.

Other than that, she would more likely spare an animal than a person when it comes to killing.

Xelschea, like most female Shades, is barren and can't have children, but on the contrary, she is quite glad of the fact and enjoys it by having multiple partners in different places. One thing if for certain, if she wants something from a man, she is willing to take it with more than her "good looks"

Roleplaying example:

~~~~~
A dark shadow turned twilight folded wings across the cloud plagued sky. Eyes bright, he searched the dry land below him, the scent of the sea burning in his beak. Shimmering in his flight, the ebon creature banked sharply to the left only to glide a few meters before the kiss of the wind once more bit at his underbelly and towed him upwards. The coolness of the clouds comforted him as he soared over the small town known as Narda, where himself and the being of his Mistress did business. Today they had traveled, hastily and on foot to the town by the sea, where the rocks were sharply corroded by the force of the waves and the sky awoke with the sound of white winged seagulls. To the raven’s distaste, the words of his Mistress surged through his entire being, earlier encouraging the proud bird to soar the skies and seek out anything that might spark interest, or if the occasion should arrive for them to flee or fight. The town itself was a relatively calm and under populated area, ideal for the Shade’s fleeting coming and going back and forth into civilized worlds. This was partially the reason why the Female Shade was always so difficult to seek out – because of her adamant nature to get what she needed and only stay when necessary. But such peace had not gone unbroken for so long. The bird could still recall the gleam in a certain human’s eyes when he returned the gaze of his Mistress with a fool’s heart. Now, it was taken care of and Rauthr had little to worry from such an unworthy nuisance.

The sea salt hardly did wonders for his nostrils, but despite the nagging stench, the raven could still pluck scents from the mixture that inhabited the air. Seconds sounded off, leaving a trail of silence as wings beat the air in slow, steady thrums. The ebon pits that resembled his eyes dilated towards the ground, observant and scanning for any signs of life. Though not just any life, only a thing of interest or threat, or merely even curiosity. Kicking off the air as if launching himself from an invisible springboard, the raven’s voice leaked form his sharp edged beak. A rider on horseback rocketed through the landscape, heading for the seaside town, the steed as if he would fall to the soil at any minute. The intensity of the gallop wasn’t the sole thing that made the dark hearted familiar careen his head to one side. Focusing on the single figure riding astride the horse, the raven’s eyes gleamed, then darkened into slits. Whatever the purpose of the figure’s presence, it was clear of what the creature was, even if it was cloaked with magic. No disguise could hide the Shade from the eyes of Rauthr, the familiar and chosen creature of Xelschea. Flapping his wings, the bird rose into the sky, bidding the cloud infested expanse to cover his presence, using sheets of endless white to shield the color of his ink dipped wings and ebon breast. The intension of following the male Shade was fresh inside his mind, keen on keeping an eye on the presence that demanded his undivided attention. It wasn’t often that he got to meet another Shade. The bird cawed thoughtfully to himself, the croak low than soaring to a shriller pitch. After all, he would be of little use to his Mistress dead.

The view of passerby humans below created the fire of urgency where his tiny heart would beat. After a few more moments of trailing after the beast and Shade, a beat of warning hammered in his chest. The horse faltered once, barely enough to make the poor beast trip and plunge to his descent, hitting the ground as if a giant itself toppled. The bird felt the presence of a sinister power at that very moment. It was no feat that the Shade himself killed the horse, most likely due to his in-satisfaction with the animal. There was a brief moment of reprise before the Shade blasted off towards the town, his speed making Rauthr a bit dizzy, but in no way did the bird dare to stop his shadow upon the man. Grumbling in his throat, the raven’s wings hugged towards his body, the feel of feather tickling in his dive. Once speed was no longer a problem, he could easily keep up with the Shade below. His wings snapped open at precisely at the desired moment, where he leveled off and climbed the air a few more beats upwards. He no longer was masked by the clouds, allowing his ebon frame to be seen. It was common for many species of birds to flock around the sea side, since many had chosen the rocky outposts to nest and raise young, but Rauthr felt nothing. Not a single emotion or instinct in his body urged him to bank away from the scene and procreate with the common raven. His Mistress was his urge now, his own instinct and passion to continue on, even at his own demise.

Still gaining speed, he lowered himself even out of his comfort zone. Though Rauthr used the height of the average sized buildings to his advantage as he darted passed show venders and the hustle and bustle of the people emerging from their homes as the sun peeked over the horizon and the bells of a new day rang out pure and true into the ears of the insect like mortals that buzzed on with their daily lives, unknown of what dangers nestled inside. For hidden behind the cold stone walls, was a nightmare sure to unravel into reality. One false, or even unpredictable step could fathom said Mistress into a fury, to fight or flee in a column of darkness. Throwing out his talons, the bird gripped the wooden railing beside a single floor hovel. The stone misplaced against the general frame of the building and the cornice faded into shades of grays and beige. Air rushed into his miniscule lungs, heart beating with the flight his body endured to reach his Mistress before the other, masculine Shade discovered her. Unlike the center of town, this particular place was silent, save for the roaches that scurried passed, unfathomed along the ground. A truly disgusting place, but necessary to avoid detection none the less. Arching his head towards the oak trimmed door, the bird obediently rapped thrice upon the once living material. Each note a delicate tap, each on a different plank of board. A single mistake could cost him his life and steal the breath from his body, for Xelschea had given him strict orders that she would kill anything that barged inside the house, friend or foe, if they did not alert her of their presence. But then again, her chosen familiar needed no password, for both creatures were bonded as Mistress and Servant. After waiting for a short eternity, the door creaked open, merely enough for the bird to squeeze through and enter the room, where a certain someone was waiting.

The pages of burned tome whispered into being as he entered the round roved adobe supported by twin stone pillars, an odd contrast to the all wooden frame the house was constructed upon. Rauthr did not announce his presence, for Xelschea knew exactly who it was that tapped so delicately upon her chamber door. A graceful figure, leaned over a table of a single lonely volume turned the parchment in her fingertips. A muteness was shared between the two minds, as her submissive servant revealed all his secrets. The lone figure upon a beaten down horse, traveling at great speeds and at great lengths to reach the city, which even now invaded and begun to seek his quarry. ”A Shade indeed, then, and an Imperial no less…” Came the honeyed hiss of Xelschea, the very one who loathed all Imperials, both mortal and demon blessed. With a gentle smile, the feminine Shade closed her eyes for a brief moment of memory to assault her vision. It was still there, tainted, but clear inside her vast mind as she cleverly wove the delicate balance of sanity and madness, reason and chaos. It was she that Galbatorix now desired back within his clutches. Once the news of the victory of Cithri under the command of her sinister presence, the King had been through more than necessary lengths to achieve his goal, to bring back the Shade who fought alongside his most precious General Damascus. Poor mongrel, The Shade thought as the ebon lined wings fluttered open to reveal hellish maroon pits. He never saw it coming. The more or less controlled being leaned back casually holding council within herself, watching the demons recoil at her curiosity, then whispering their immediate agreement soon after. ”Let him come, Rauthr. Perhaps now the Imperial King unleashes some civil company…”

Cackling, the raven bobbed his head, knowing all too well of what meaning lie hidden in his Mistress’ words. Her command was clear, though no words were spoken, no air released into the cool morning air. Not when the connection of two minds linked together all thoughts, plots, and law. Air twirled gently through his breast as the bird left, as quickly as he had entered. Jumping slightly at the thud of the door shutting behind his ink streaked tail feathers, Rauthr launched himself from the railing, once more flapping his wings in great brushstrokes to gain both altitude and speed. Not a moment later, the swift footed figure of the stranger came dilating into view, his speed notably slower yet more precise in his step, never faltering in his mission to seek out Xelschea. The Shade would not have to seek any further, because the inching descent of the shadow fell towards the figure. The bird landed fludically upon a low lingering rail post, about a block away from the house his Mistress had commandeered for her own uses. Eyeing the Shade before him with obvious distaste, the bird hopped onto a higher shelf, ever gazing at the man in his presence. A low and guttural caw escaped his half opened maw, beckoning the figure with every blink of his midnight black optics. Rauthr leaped into flight once more, though low enough to be about three to four feet above the Shade’s head. Hinting what would come ahead, the forsaken creature landed on rail posts to mark his path. Urging the Shade with subtle calls, he finally landed upon the marked railing, glancing upon the wooden layed door, free of ornate decoration and therefore calling little attention to unwanted guests. He spoke no more, though his eyes commanded to wait, to be patient. Then without warning, the bird rapped against the door faster than one would suspect a normal raven to act upon. The gateway was now open, the action was done, and the bird sat diligently upon the post, feather ruffled in the crisp air as the scent of his Mistress overcame him.

~~~~

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[Elvorn]

Looks great Xelschae!
One thing though, in your history, you said that Arya was captured just after the egg was stolen. The egg was actually stolen from Galbatorix many years before it hatched for Eragon.