|“||Hope will be born from the collective triumphs of the king in us all.||”|
Xaestalrasz Oshidari is a pragmatic but compassionate Elven-Dream of Mah crossbreed hell-bent on becoming a Khan of the Wushanko Isles. She is written by the player Maedalaane.
Xaestalrasz is the bearer of an iconoclastic figure that makes it difficult for her to be mistaken as anyone else. With the elongated ears of an Elf, the gray skin of a Mahjarrat, hair pure as snow yet wholesome as a lion’s mane, and standing many inches taller than any Human...it would take much more than mere makeup to disguise her personage.
Her frame is solid. Lithe with few curves and lean muscles. A modest bust that's often bound gives a slight androgynous edge to the crossbreed but her collective beauty would never see her be mistaken for a male.
The mage's outfits are numerous. Rarely is she to be seen wearing the same outfit for two days in a row or perhaps even twice ever. The sole exception being the extravagant and enchantment riddled robes that her mentor Quin gifted to her. Many of these outfits are of eastern design though western influence has made for more eclectic attires these days.
A quiet type though simply calling her "shy" is inaccurate. Rather, Xaestalrasz is a deeply introspective soul that is much more interested in experiencing life than having life experience her (though her crusades see to it that many do experience her, that just isn't the goal). She understands her place in existence, which is that of a youngling with a disproportionate amount of power relative to her age. Wary of this power yet possessing a fiery moral compass, she only exerts this force against people whose guilt she truly knows, confident in the knowledge that her justice *is* just. This confidence can and will eschew reverence for laws if they get in the way. To Xaestalrasz, a good cause justifies any means thereto.In seeming contrast to her few words and her introspection-produced blank gazes, the crossbreed is a very sensual, high energy, and artistic individual. The liaison of that fiery moral compass is a compulsion to experience much of life so that she may acquire further wisdom to act upon. But also simply for the sake of it because she is quite the sensual individual. That sensuality manifests in her thrill seeking, pursuit of unique experiences, affinity for the esoteric, constructive recreation, and downright hedonism. Her constructive hobbies primarily include written works, though she is also somewhat of a fashionista. Sometimes it might even be drawn works but her sketches aren't nearly as lovely as her prose.
Whilst endeavoring to be a pleasant person to everyone, everyone has their weaknesses and Xaestalrasz is no exception. From a perspective strict of cognition the mage is hardly a thinker when it comes to the world outside of her own mind. Her focus on ‘whatever works’ often leads her to being disorganized, messy, and disregarding of any systems she deems ‘inflexible’ in relation thereto. Yet, she herself is not as flexible as she fancies herself to be, as whenever something that demands precise and concrete work comes her way, she rarely seems to manage it well. Lastly, she doesn’t quite wear her heart on the sleeve, but right under it. Xaestalrasz's silence and introspection make it seem like any criticism directed towards her instead fly right over her head but any intelligent criticism, especially from those she cares about, is mulled over for hours if not days and can either lift or sully her mood greatly.
Pre Birth: Of Silk and Stone
Silwyrs Amlodd was a simple soul. Despite what civil tensions teetered precariously between the Elven clans, she nonetheless had never actually wished for the eventual civil war that resulted from them. Not many did. However, the wishes of the seven clans mattered not during the Iowerth Siege of Prifddinas that shattered Isafdarian society and rendered her a nigh helpless victim of the times. Her immediate family's deaths, as well as the bodily mutilations she accumulated from it over the years (an arm lost and injured vocal cords among the abuse), finally pushed her to the coming of a day where enough was enough.
But by then it was too late to effectively forsake her nonaggressive life and egress out of the province in which she lived was also quite difficult. The Arandar mountain range was fortified by Iowerth and not even the most sure footed, nimble-toed Hefin dared to navigate the only alternative to it, the Underground Pass. At least, not with the limited supplies that she could ever hope to scrounge up for such a daunting journey. The only true way out would have to be by sea.
In Year 150 of the Fifth Age, she finally struck a deal to this end at Port Tyras. All of her money for a charter taking an elongated and safe loop westward before heading for Port Sarim. But, of course, the string of bad luck still continued. A freak encounter with pirates who murdered the crew, and a sea monster subsequently destroying the pirates' vessel, left Silwyrs stranded at sea with abysmal seafaring skill. Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months. Even sustenance for an entire crew had to run out eventually and so it did, but the night was darkest before dawn, and hope was rekindled by the eventual sight of land on the horizon.
That land wasn't Asgarnia, though. In fact, it was just about as far as one could ever even be from Asgarnia. Silwyrs had aimlessly floated herself all the way to Flou Tar-Shei of the Wushanko Isles. The euphoria of hope that ensued was enough to make her smile for the first time in a very long time. Never mind the island's interesting magical properties of inhibiting all manner of aggressive emotion.
Here she met the Khan of Haranu Island, a lovely land awash with cherry orchards. These cherry orchards concealed bastions of witches. Or, as the people of Wushanko called them, Occultists. The peoples of the other islands feared them, not only for their ability, but also for their alliance with the Khan of the Sea, Seasinger Quin. But Silwyrs found through first-hand interaction that the fears were misplaced and that the occultists' actions were highly justified. Quickly, a home was found for her on Haranu.
Davvos was just like any other upstanding Zamorakian of the Fifth Age, which meant that his priority number one was finding a way to return Zamorak to Gielinor. Immortals were never of course never quick to change, though. Especially not any Dreams of Mah, and especially not any Mahjarrat. However, millenia were enough to abate even the most ruthless of warmongers. It couldn't be mistaken that, even after all of this time, Davvos was one hellion of a zealot. However, he did find a way to be pleasant about it. For his allies, anyway.
And, just like any Mahjarrat worth their weight, he had his ear to the ground. But, he nonetheless had a just slightly different view from the rest. He believed that a way to eschew the Ritual of Rejuvenation could be found. There is strength in numbers, especially in the numbers of the stronger division of Mahjarrat. Yet, they were, in fact, an endangered species that was not reproducing. No matter how slow they died, they were dying, and this was bound to continue. This made somewhat of a hoarder out of Davvos, compelling him to collect artefacts, power sources, and anything that had an inkling of potential to slow this course. Inevitably, news of the Horn of Quin eventually crossed his desk. The power to command an army of beasts concurrently was absolutely worth coveting.
In Year 150 of the Fifth Age, getting to Wushanko was the least of his worries. Impersonate a chap here, slay a few sea monsters there, and arrival to Tuai Leit was child's play. Playing the role of scholar for a month, the studious Mahjarrat took advantage of the island's academy to learn all that needed to be known of this vast archipelago.
The plan – impersonate an occultist of Haranu and work toward being a direct servant of Khan Quin.
For the Elf, as well as the, Mahjarrat, life was just about as according to plan by midway through the year of 152. It wasn't perfect, but nothing was. Post traumatic stress disorder stole fractions of Silwyrs' slumber, and learning the habits of his chosen target took longer than Davvos had hoped for. Still, life continued.
But, the next move that Davvos made was complicated by the one thing he hadn't accounted for - An Elf's superb senses. The disposal of his chosen target was interrupted by a dagger to the Mahjarrat's neck. His single mistake was that his gait was his own and not belonging to anyone else on the island. After over a century of sleepless nights listening for unfamiliar strides that could belong to enemies, this Elf had perhaps the most keen ears of any kindred.
With no choice but to play his explanation straight, Davvos bargained the truth for his life and so a deal was struck. Davvos had no intent to harm the rest of the island's peoples other than one of the few that Silwyrs had no care for: A bitter old man who had grown cynical with life and everything in it. Likewise, she was indifferent to Quin's conquest. A noble goal endeavored wrongly, and the Elf neither hated it or liked it.
...Or, so she thought. Until the Khans of The Scyth found the courage for war. Silwyrs would not sit idly by while her new loved ones died. Not again. The Elf took up occultist magic, and sought out the most powerful sorcerer she knew on the island. Davvos.
Cooperation turned to camaraderie. Camaraderie turned to alliance. Alliance turned to friendship. Friendship turned to love. Through years of fire, Silwyrs understood why Davvos was the way he was, and Davvos grew enamored with the fact that one as kind as Silwyrs comprehended it, and allied with him for a reason beyond not dying at the next Ritual of Rejuvenation. The end of the war looked to be in sight in late 153, and Haranu was winning. A celebration was to be had, and by the end of it, their daughter had been conceived.
Birth: Ill Begun Isn't Done
Sadly, what the Khans lacked in magic, they made up for in persistence. Most of them were Human, after all. Alliances were struck with other regions of Wushanko, and Quin's army of sea monsters wasn't as numerous as it used to be. A surprise blitzkrieg during late Septober of 154 against Haranu from all directions from several islands' fleets was too much. Few escaped, fewer stayed hidden, and the engaged were not among those few. Wretched as they were, murdering a toddler was beyond the soldiers that found Xaestalrasz. The queer babe couldn't be taken into their own fold, though, what with her knife ears and her colorless skin that was as smooth as porcelain, but as hard as granite. She was left with care upon the shore of the next nearest island, The Island That Reflects the Moon. Presumably, the incredibly hospitable denizens of that island would take care of her.
But, before the crossbreed was happened upon by any person, instead, a sea monster in the control of the livid Quin snatched her cradle off the sand and made haste to Paradise, Quin's island. Quin knew more than Davvos knew she knew. She knew of Silwyrs, she controlled the sea monster that destroyed the pirate's ship who besieged her at sea. She knew of Davvos, knew of his plans to obtain The Horn for his religion. She knew that Xaestalrasz' biology would make for a very promising protégé. So began her parenting and mentoring of the babe.
Childhood: Guardian of WHAT World?
Life on Paradise actually wasn't quite as easy going as the name of the island would imply. Still, it was the best place for Xaestalrasz in Wushanko. Quin was a strict but empathetic mentor and her proxy war through the beasts of the eastern lands rarely caused a ruckus close to home. Both violence and peace were in the crossbreed's blood. One half of her detested the war, and the other half wanted to be riding a sea monster with spear in hand. Quin was an honest person, though, and told Xaestalrasz of her tragic origin as soon as she was able to comprehend it. With that in mind, the cognitive dissonance dissipated over the years, and leaned her more to the side of war. Secretly, she still disagreed with Quin's methods...just not the actions.
At the age of 16, in the year 169 of the Fifth Age, Wushanko was changed forever. Paradise was besieged by a platoon of ships in the employ of a foreign adventurer. Not just any adventurer, though. The Adventurer. With this adventurer's supernatural knack of almost always succeeding in their endeavors, the natural fate of Paradise was to fall. Quin was killed, the fortress was destroyed, and Xaestalrasz nearly lost her life as well. But, not all was lost - the crossbreed still had her life and was able to hide in the ruins of the fortress until the assailants left. They didn't leave quickly, highly concerned with procuring the Elder Horn, but weeks of searching did not yield it.
Coming of Age: Hellsinger of WushankoThough she had a solid idea of where Quin would have hidden The Horn, procuring the icon of strife wasn't a priority—not when no one else but her would be able to find it. The new priorities were surviving without an army of beasts and finding a new home. There were rumors that a few covens of occultists had weathered the Occultic Genocide, and were now hiding deep within the island. Colorful as she was, it wasn't too farfetched to believe that she'd be accepted back into her birthplace. Davvos' true identity was never known to the rest, though this would make proving her belonging more difficult. However, it could still be managed, either by honesty...or otherwise. There was no other choice. Almost all of Wushanko was on the lookout for Xaestalrasz, known as the unmistakable knife eared gray behemoth that defended Paradise.
After recovering enough in the jungles of Paradise, she erected an SOS waypoint, commandeered the first ship to arrive, and set a course for The Island That Reflects the Moon. From there, she took a personal ship a few miles across the gap to Haranu. The rumors were right, but luck had it that she didn't need to convince them of her lineage because they knew her as Quin's protégé. Though hidden, their allegiance had still been with the late Quin.
Xaestalrasz fit in soon enough, and got to work learning of Paradise's attackers, their allegiances, and their benefactors. This fleet had blood to pay, and the incensed orphan was hell-bent on getting rich off of its debts. The most troubling fact about this fleet was that it didn't seem to have any overarching political goal. It was almost entirely a foreign mercenary group funded by an intrepid adventurer supposedly renowned in the West. Renowned, but no saint. Their endeavors in Wushanko were all about money and nothing else. All morality cast aside when the highest bidder would place their offer.
More than furious at the revelation of her life being turned upside down by hypocritical sellswords who could have made a fortune under the employ of Quin and put an end to Khan warring, Xaestalrasz began to interfere with the fleet's missions. Sinking ships, capturing crew, defending against attacks, and whatever else proved to be a thorn in their side. When this fleet wasn't sullying Wushanko's waters, she was doing the very same things against the Khans responsible for the Occultic Genocide. Her people reverently titled her as Haranu's Hope, while her foes scorned her as the Hellsinger of Wushanko. Thus was her life for three years.
Adulthood: Spurred Westward
In year 4 of the Sixth Age Xaestalrasz made the decision to travel to the West for various reasons. Knowledge, acquisition of skills, confronting The Adventurer, and learning of the gods. Every day made it more clear to her that her strongest desire is to become the next supreme Khan of Wushanko, but not all of the skills needed for this lofty goal could be acquired in Wushanko itself. Ventures were needed. Though she'd not see Wushanko governed the way that Quin had done it. Not by weakly relying on a tool that couldn't save her in actual combat; neither by ruling with an iron fist and rectifying miniscule transgressions via draconic recourse. Rather, by personal power and fair treatment of all people. Or, maybe not? Passionate but realistic, she understands her perspective could absolutely change in her long life. A life that may or may not be immortal, ambiguous biology considered, but still a life that will be much longer than any Human's. Comforting, as most Khans of Wushanko are Human.
In mid Fentuary she departed from Wushanko and began a new life in the West.
Click on the Extended button at the top of the page for the in character / played out history.
Like mother like daughter, it seems. My crew has been slain by pirates and I am now adrift at sea. There was no deus-ex-beastie from
motQuin to save me from these rapscallions, but these lowlifes were easy to dispatch, apparently having been from a minor archipelago technically in Western waters. The West's fighters already fail to impress me. Regardless, this is a problem. I am unfamiliar with these waters. If worse came to worst then a simple teleport would be the end of this, but I am not certain what the "worst" would even be to me. I am not going to return to Haranu so quickly as a failure. I'll just have to wait this one out.
There is a fog in the distance, but it is...green? Curious.
The green fog was the eternal haze of Morytania. I figured it an anomaly at first but a Vyrewatch chomping at the bit to investigate an out of place ship that nearly ran aground and tore Burgh De Rott's ramshackle dock into complete disrepair made it very clear where I was. The wretched thing wasted no time to spring onto the deck to analyse and intimidate me. Apparently I am to be its "play thing" and it will return in the morning. I am ashamed of myself. My first experience in the West has terrified me. If it were anything else I could have dealt with it. But Vampyres are only susceptible to silvthril flails and blisterwood weaponry. Neither of what I have in my possession.
I will not wait around to be toyed with. I didn't come this far to be turned into a freak or slave. I'm making a break for it before dawn.
Not A Monster
What a morning. This Vampyre's name is Synivexa and she is...acceptable in mentality, and more than that in her humanoid appearance. She was not going to turn me or enslave me and is loyal to the new law of the land. She was only overtaken with a predatory curiosity in her first impression. She is going to help me learn of Morytania and even protect me, so long as I serve her, in ways not exactly binding or anything.
I am still somewhat skeptical. Yet, if it's a ruse, I may yet be able to get the upper hand. When I attempted to sneak away and was pursued I was able to fend her off. Turns out that the laws of physics still apply to Vampyres. A kick to the chest won't hurt nerves but it'll wind them as good as any other person.
Even if she's genuine - I'm not. If she's a rarity in these parts and every day puts my life in peril then I will swim across the Salve if I need to. I hope this will not come to pass though. She would make for...at the very least...an interesting first companion.
I write this in the shadow of the grand temple of Paterdomus, enjoying a final rest beside my new companion before we leave this wretched land. What a turn of events this has been.
I don't know what time of daylight I woke. The eternal fog over this land ruins my sense of time. I awakened Synivexa from her sleep and put our heads together on how to repair the ship. Easier said than done, for most timber in this marsh is decayed and warped. Not suitable for a ship. The likely place it would have been sold was Canifis. It wasn't, actually, but we tried it and we got there via flight. I absolutely in no way shape or form consented to this but Synivexa caught me in a vice grip and I had to endure the ensuing panic attack. Flying isn't for me. I don't have wings. I don't think I'd ever want wings.
In Canifis, she showed me the local lodestone. I must give credit to this Wizards' Tower that made these, as their ingenuity makes use of these mind numbingly simple. A commoner wouldn't not be able to use them. Afterward I donned a hood and rattled a lycan shopkeep for his timber. Though ears hidden he could still smell the difference between me and a real Vampyre, but my aggression made him comply all the same. Except...he didn't actually have any wood for sale. I demanded his shelves, ladders, doors, and everything else that wasn't the building itself by the morning.
Afterward, Synivexa and I dined and we discussed ourselves a bit. Interestingly, she is a pureblood. Not at all how I imagined one would be. Light hearted, cheery, friendly, even a bit goofy. Perhaps it is the way of the Jovkai, and a reason why she treats me how she does. So that my blood will be my sweet. This is a predicament - being coaxed into a friend but I will have to let her drink of me because inter-species friendship is rare in Morytania. Let's hope she doesn't need much at a time.
I jested to her about it being folly for us even be in Morytania, what with her being a pureblood, that we could get out of this gloomy place and she wouldn't be turned into a Human.
And...she agreed. She had actually been waiting for someone else to adventure with her, but that person hasn't been around in a very long time. It took some paperwork, but now apparently she can just up and go.
She's intent to keep me. I'm sleeping with one eye open...but at least what looked like a worst case scenario was quickly salvaged. We're going to cross the Salve in a bit and eventually charter a ship back around to the broken one and gather my belongings. I've heavily warded the ship so it should be safe.
That shopkeep won't be happy.
To say that leaving Morytania was not easy would be an understatement. Surely, in my days, there have been more difficult endeavors but even after a long rest my body aches from the many hours this took.
The border was much more fortified than either of us had anticipated. Though a variety of ways to exfiltrate were at hand, all of them were difficult. Disguise would not have been very convincing, what with my height or Synivexa's claws that couldn't fit in Human gauntlets or boots (and of course they thought me a Vampyre when we approached the bridge). Flight to Forinthry would have been long, taxxing, and Kami knows what beasts would assail us. Fighting through was a death wish. The best choice was to traverse the swamp, but by way of sneaking along the shoreline and evading detection, as wholly unfightable dangers lurked inward such as other Vampyres. Synivexa could not carry me like last time as my pack for the journey was too heavy. She'd need to save her energy for the flight from the abandoned mine in southern Morytania to the abandoned guild upon the desert plateau across the channel.
My writing this shows we managed this. Just, neither quickly or efficiently. Many near sightings from the archers upon the lookout towers, shenanigans with ghasts, slipping on snail slime, and feet often getting caught in swampy sinkholes...as the Canifis locals would say...took the piss out of me. I am very grateful that my stoney skin is apparently exempt from fungal infections, otherwise the entire lower half of my body would be ailed. At least I only had me to worry about because Synivexa was in a mist form the entire journey. I did impress her more than I embarrassed myself. I think.
We're resting in an abandoned facility now. I need a more recent map, as mine had labeled it as a Saradominist abbey but it hasn't been that in quite a long time now. More recently it was a guild hall known as the Academy of Heroes, so the signs said. It is bereft of almost all religious décor save for the sole areligious altar in the main hall. In fact, it is bereft of almost everything that isn't nailed to the floor. This level of desertion is eerie but my senses both carnal and arcane detect nothing malignant here. The emptiness and silence is just...odd. Nature has reclaimed it by a degree, though climate considered the extent of this is just sand drifts piled about with some scorpions and snakes presiding over them.
Perhaps we'll make this a dwelling of sorts. There's beds, tables, an oven, and a fresh water supply down below us. The Salve enchantment reaches here as well and an interesting side effect of it is that it generates fresh water. Convenient. The legality of it would be questionable but is too good of a find to pass.
However my most immediate concern is my current...change. At first, back in Morytania I thought it an issue of light. There is no proper sunlight or even moonlight there, what with the eternal fog. My skin was so barely noticeably a darker shade. This, I see now, is not because of the lighting. It has progressed as I dwell in this facility. The pigment (if it is even that?) does not behave like it does in Humans, or Elves, or so on. This darker shade extends to even my palms and soles. It goes without saying that this is concerning, but nothing else has accompanied this yet.
Well, I came to the West for adventure. Seems like I've found it.
Albeit deserted as it were, company with light feet and sly fingers still arrived to the facility on this cold night. She could not be blamed, the place does just scream that it should have buried treasure. Unfortunate for her, the only treasure she found was my own in the room I claimed. My weapons and my crown. Fortunate for me, my feet were yet more light and I confronted her before she could rob me of anything. Wynnfirth is her name, an Asgarnian lass. The confrontation went better than both of us had hoped for. She did not try to flee, which meant I did not lay a finger on her save for an earnest handshake after a talk. I couldn't be mad about it. I do not own this property, so she was not trespassing. She had no knowledge of whom owned the valuables which meant she had no malice, only self interest.
I ended up commissioning her help. Synivexa and I have an arduous journey ahead of us, what with being what we are (and my skin color still progressing darker), synchronized to no lodestones, and enchantments on the ship that won't last long. I would really rather not lose my belongings. She has agreed to help, but I have my eye on her. She is taking notes on me, for perhaps a greater theft or otherwise. Most of my possessions are redundant, and it is what she has her eye on. The scimitars, the crown, whatnot. I can summon perfect copies as I need to, but I rather not if I need not. Perhaps there could be magic blocking spells or wards in a conflict, and I would have permanent weapons to fall back to. The crown is sentimental...but just as important to me.I will see how she goes. The worst she can do will be at most frustrating.