Jezabo
From An Evolution in RP :: Database
 | |
Personal Information
| |
| Name: Jezabo | |
| Birthplace: Dathomir | |
| Species: Dathomiri | |
| Marital Status: Single | |
Physical Description
| |
| Gender: Female | |
| Height: 5'4" | |
| Weight: 124 Ibs. | |
| Hair: Black | |
| Eyes: Blue -- Black when channeling the darkside | |
SWE Scenarios
| |
Contents |
General Character Details
Name: Jezabo of Red Hills
In Game relations: Banished, she has none.
Age: 28
Race/Racial characteristics: Dathomiri
Affiliation: Sith
Appearence
Avatar: Amy Lee (Evanescence)
Height: 5’4”
Weight: 124Ibs
Hair Colour: Black
Eye Colour: Sapphire -- Black when channeling the darkside
Build: Petite muscular build
Other: Small scar on her upper left eyebrow. 4 inch scar across her abdomen. 5 inch scar across her upper right arm. Jezabo has very long ebony hair that usually looks a bit unkept. Cascading down to just below her buttocks, she only occasionally ties it back or braids it. Her body is very muscular due to her way of living, and it is usually covered with various hides or furs for clothing, and scales for armor.
Other Character Details
Personality
Power. It is what Jezabo lives for. Although she is very primitive to the universe outside of Dathomir, she embodies a streak of confidence to those who observe her. Once a Dathomirian Witch, Jezabo was banished from her clan for her habit of channeling the darkness. Anger and a short temper were the cause of this. For years she was considered a threat—a bad seed. For years, she was constantly watched because of her behavior. She was like a fuse, ready to spark and catch fire to anyone who crossed her path the wrong way. This treatment from her fellow sisters only created more hatred in the woman.
Jezabo, even when relying on the magics around her, thinks herself to be a logical woman. Her decisions are final, she holds no regret, and her stance is usually cold towards others. She’s never been given the chance to trust someone enough to open up to them, therefore is considered an introvert. She watches instead. She does not respect men. Her clan, as most clans on Dathomir, treated men as slaves. And thus, even outside of her home planet, she has no second thought in what she considers normal behavior towards men. She is, however, smart enough to realize when someone is more powerful than she is. Although unfamiliar with the industrial ways of the universe, Jezabo is an intelligent being and usually takes precautions with technology she does not understand, choosing not to be over confident in that area.
Jezabo still finds herself most comfortable in the wilderness, surrounded by nature. She may embrace the darkness of her magic (the force) but has the utmost respect for nature, respect that was nurtured into her as an infant. One place you will rarely find Jezabo is somewhere high with an edge. She is frightened of nothing but that of heights. Broaching the subject, even with herself, frustrates her. She hates being afraid of something so ridiculous. It roots to her childhood, something her mind intentionally blocked out.
Because of her constant thirst for power, learning in the ways she has on Dathomir has caused some irreversible side effects. Her hands, once porcelain and smooth, are now wrinkled—almost knarled looking. She has small abrasions in various places on her body, usually concealed with clothing. And when channeling the dark magic, her eyes turn the palest of blues. However, there have been many times, mainly after figuring out how to use her magic without casting a spell, that she has lost control or that it takes over her instead. This usually results in pain, over exertion, or just plain clumsiness. Which of course then results in a very bad temper. Not having control over her powers is very frustrating to Jezabo, especially at her age. Considering most witches do not know how to use their magic without the use of spells, Jezabo still doesn't understand how to be patient.
Because of her rapid temper, Jezabo becomes irrational when anger has taken over her. She returns to her most primitive state, the huntress, and attacks before weighing the consequences. Her thirst is for power, her lust is for power, her passion is for power. Defeating those more powerful, or equally powerful, bring her the most satisfaction. In her mind, the less in her way to blocking her path to her own ultimate power, the faster it will be to reach that pivotal point.
There is much Jezabo doesn’t understand about the rest of the universe, however she is too prideful to let anyone think they’re teaching her. She must learn herself. She never was a follower, yet another reason she clashed so much with her clan.
Belongings
- Force Pike
- Dagger
- Leather whip
History
Jezabo was born into the Red Hills clan and raised in the primitive, yet magical ways of the Dathomirian Witches. The witches, most force sensitive, followed something called The Book of Law. This book clearly stated the way the Dathomirians would live and serve their magic, the force. Jezabo was trained, as the other children in the clan were, by the War Chief. The War Chief taught her how to think on her feet with or without the use of her spells.
If you could use two words to describe her childhood, it would be: bad seed. Even when just a small girl, the tantrums she threw grew the attention of the Gram’e Mater. From that point on, a close eye was kept on the girl as she was trained the spells needed to control the power they withheld. Even as a child, Jezabo could feel how she was treated differently. Other children shied away from her, and even her own mentor, Alstienya, kept herself from becoming truly bonded to her pupil. Jezabo had no one. Shortly after the sudden change within her clan towards her, she was told her mother had died of natural causes. Never having a true bond to the woman, she mourned her as best she could, and moved on, never questioning how her mother truly died.
Throughout the rest of her training, she learned to control many beasts, the most popular being the Rancor. Some of the girls showed fear, and although she was a little nervous inside, refused to show such an emotion in front of her peers. Especially having had grown a chip on her shoulder over the years for the difference in her treatment from the other sisters. She was one of the first ones to tame a beast, and the pride only grew from there. Jezabo was very talented with her magic, and in time, became greedier with the time in which it took to learn the spells. It was a great risk to learn the spells too quick, natural consequences being that of what other sisters considered beauty. Jezabo didn’t care. She wanted to be better than the other sisters, to prove she wasn’t a bad seed.
Things only seemed to progress when Jezabo reached the mating age. Because of what they deemed her ‘reckless behavior’ coupled with her quick temper and use of dark magic, the clan agreed to keep Jezabo from producing any off spring. The idea of having a child was never an interest to her but the fact they declared such a thing enraged the woman. During the mating ceremony, Jezabo lashed out at the Clan Mother for her decision, her power completely taking control of her. In her rage, winds grew strong, clouds rolled above, and trees howled in the night. The air was electric, and Jezabo for the first time could feel the power inside of her, yearning to be set free. Things like this had happened before in her younger years, the ability to control parts of the weather…but nothing like this. She was soon met by the War Chief. A grand duel ensued, ending with Jezabo being slashed purposefully through her abdomen, keeping her from ever having children. With haste, the Clan Healer healed her gruesome wound by use of her magic, but the pain was still there. And so was the scar.
After that day, the clan no longer considered her a sister. At 21, she left, a witch on her own. For the next few years she stayed secluded in he wilderness, traveling on rancor away from the Red Hills to the Frenzied River, having made up her mind clan life was not for her. She was sure other sisters had been sent out into their territory, making sure she was no where in sight. She eventually had a run in with one of them, and never hesitated to send the other woman to her death. She knew after that day, she could never return to that region of Dathomir again.
Though she never tried, she felt she’d never be accepted into any clan, and considered it a waste of her time. Instead, she concentrated on controlling her magic, casting her spells, and learning to better herself on her own. Her training had already been complete in the Red Hills clan. All but for her own determination to find the Book of Spells the Gran’e Mater had, which was never accomplished.
In time, she began to realize spells were not binded to the magic. She somehow could manipulate the magic to her will without the use of a spell. It was confusing to her. All her life it was taught as something to wield with words, and now she was seeing something different. The Dathomirian wilderness was nothing easy or pretty when alone, and only a rancor to travel on. Many wild beasts roam the area, as well as witches content on keeping outsiders away from their territory. Jezabo was careful not to enter any other witches territory, and lived several more years dependant on her magic. She tested it out on beasts attempting to attack her, or that in which she needed for survival, and eventually found something very peculiar. If anything, one would say mere curiosity drove the woman to continue.
An Imperial Outpost wasn’t something a witch saw everyday. Though she was aware there were other types of people on Dathomir, because of what she heard from other witches, she’d never seen them until now. White men, strange looking…almost inhuman. After further investigation, she noticed they traveled away from the land in strange large objects. Was this a way to leave Dathomir? It seemed Jezabo’s only choice, for nothing lay in her future on this planet. She was wanted by no one. And she felt no need to stay here, even if unsure of what the stars held for her.
Jezabo left her trusty rancor in the forests, not wanting to catch the attention of the strange white men, even if the rancor would help in destroying most of them. Upon her first encounter with one of the men, they spoke a strange language. She cast a spell of translation to be able to understand and speak this language. From then on, she continued through the outpost with spells, and sometimes bending the magic to her will without saying a word. Jezabo managed to bypass the strange white men-like-creatures because of what she considered a weak mind. They were very easy to manipulate. If they didn’t conceit to her temporary control of their mind, she had no problem killing them. They were, after all, men. But that need never came to fruition. Lucky for her, the men seemed disciplined to the point of not immediately jumping to attack her. Something her fellow sisters should take notice of once in a while, she thought.
By the time she reached an area that had one of those large transporting…things, her mind was wrapped in this new language enough to actually speak to one of these men instead of just manipulating his mind with her will, which she also did afterwards. After her simple mind tricks, and a rather confused time at figuring out what to do with herself in the transportation box, her first trip off planet made way. It was, to say the least, breathtaking. For the first moment in her life, she realized how insignificant she was. Especially with the void of space stretching out to what seemed no end. It was in that moment of realization that the white man asked where she intended to go. She had no idea. She knew no other planet names, so instead, probed the mans mind for such information. Coruscant. It was the first planet to enter her mind from tapping into his. It sounded strange in her head, and even stranger on her tongue. Without further hesitation, she felt her body jerk back as the star-box contraption thrust into space, causing the stars to become white streaks along the viewing window.
Awards
3rd Quarter 2007
