-Hair color: Platnium
-Eye color: Icy Blue
-Skin Tone: Sandstone
-Parents: Rhaego (Father), Janora Hellgate (Mother)
-Religion: The Red
Elemental Nature: Wind
Ranora's belonged to a beautiful city hundreds of miles away from the Acrix Dessert known as Bel'roux; a utopia of technological advancement that had evolved beyond war, crime, and famine.
The City of Bel'roux was founded a hundred years ago by a man known as Y'houl Hellgate. Once a prominent figure and mighty warrior of the Acrix who in his old age grew to abhor bloodshed and combat of all sorts. He became a pacifist and left the Dessert, seeking to carve his own path towards uniting all nations on Vescrutia into a global coalition. This began with the development of his own city, a settlement that would one day become the capital of this utopia. This was Bel'roux.
Y'houl left his home a man of many trades; he was an excellent warrior, an accomplished and revered healer, an astronmer, a soreceror, an academic and scientist, but at heart Y'houl was an explorer. He was a Hellgate born to a sect of alchemists and foragers known as the Florum, whom handled the agricultural and irrigation methods of the tribe, long before there was one. They were the largest family among the nine, and he stood among its sentinels of technology as both a progentior and leader. He was responsible for the colonization of dozens of powerful outposts and strongholds for the Kingdom upon lands that would have otherwise been uninhabitable. His affinity with the Mother blessed him with a green thumb that outclassed the elders that once guided him through the Astral Courts as a youngling. Y'hol was born to lead and bred to lead to well. He was kind man. A gentle soul behind tired crimson eyes that had seen their length of death of destruction.
He traveled the planet for decades before he arrived at a city ruined by a plague so old, no one alive knew its name or origin. Referred to only as the Doom. It seeped into everything. The very air was so toxic that the water and soil were no more than vectors of death. Food was a scarcity, and if available, would ignite savageries from any soul strong enough to wield a weapon. There was only a few thousand people living in this desolant world of shattered stone, trapped by malnutrition and lack of will. The averge lifespan of this unnamed city barely crept beyond thirty years of age before Y'hon arrived at its bay. He changed their world in a day.
In a year, he brought the plague completely to heel before developing an herbal compound that improved the people immume systems beyond conventional strength. The following years were spent on the development of agricultural practices that would be taught to every men, women and child. He built academic courts and even established a government oversaw by a twelve voiced monarchy, each seat as loyal to the city as he. He united this broken realm and renamed it "Bel'roux". Several generations of sages and architects rose from its ashes. Diplomats and engineers. Doctors. Teachers. For a hundred years they thrived. Y'houl loved and married several times over. He bore children that he hoped one day would help usher this new era of peace. But that was before the eclipse.
Y'houl was a Hellgate, so like his fathers before him, he could foresee this impending doom years before. In his dreams and the stars, but he could never make sense of them. Not until the day in question came for them all. The day the moon swallowed the sun and the sky drowned in a shroud of crimson. He saw it larger than he'd ever seen it before. So close he could see the curvature of the celestial giant. But not what lied in its shadow, stalking Bel'roux and it's inhabitants with wet mouths and growling bellies. They were race of nomadic warriors, cannibals, and conquers who swept across the face of the planet in search for one thing. Plunder.
They called themselves the Q'aaliya (Kah-lee-a) and their mastery of death and wanton destruction was unlike anything Y'houl had ever known. They wielded swords and spears with blades that waded through color like crystal, but shattered steel like glass. Some of them rode on the backs of terrifying steads that were broken into submission and conditioned to savor the flavor of flesh. Beneath the moonlight, Y'houl found their bodies invincible to resistance of any kind while their barbarism ripped through Bel'roux overnight. Every man who thought themselves a soldier was murdered with obscene prejudice. Maulded. Disembodied. Slaughtered. And Y'houl was no different. His head was taken back to their Chief as a trophy, and his were daughters were taken as wives. Whether they liked it or not. It was their way.
The leader and chief of this barbaric horde was a man known as Rhaego, and he was revered as a god amongst the Mother's finest warriors. He was an eight foot tall earth toned mountain of muscle and cunning, mared in scars that no one had ever seen bleed. He was a quiet monster. The kind of evil that stirred in his sleep with a fever for bloodshed every waking night. He rarely spoke. He only came alive in battle; to roar orders or terrify his enemies. No one knew how old he was, or claimed to know where he came from. They didn't care. It was known that Giants blood ran in his veins and pumped his heart full of nothing but malice and rage for his enemies. He was the closet living thing to an Anima they'd ever seen. And he led them with nary a word spoken from his lips. They followed him, they worshipped him, and he worshipped the Red. The God of Death, the one true God. It was the Red that guided the Q'aalyia. They were a nomadic tribe that would only settle their caravan upon a blood moon. It was then, shielded in the darkness of the eclipse, that they would rape, pillage, and destroy whatever they could find. Be a town, a city, Kingdom, or Empire.. A Blood Moon was an Omen that many feared. It meant the Red and his army had come to haunt.
The city of Bel'roux was reduced to tinder barely a hundred years after its birth, and what survived it wished it died along with it. It was Q'aaliyan tradition that every men and child be gutted, hung or burned alive as offerings to the Red. Men with a trade to offer however such as doctors or sorcerers were made into slaves. The women; daughters and mothers alike were to be raped, bred, and farmed if their like could strengthen the tribe with sons. Along with Y'houl's head, Rhaego was gifted his daughters as well. Three of them. Two of them bore him children. The rebellious one was fed to the C'hitari. By the time Ranora was born, she already had half a dozen siblings. Each of them trained personally by Rheago himself. But Ranora was initially discarded before she was given her name. She came into this world, deformed and disfigured by genetic abnormalities. Her mother was killed in the birthing process. The sages whispered in the ear of their Qali that such deformities were harbingers of misfortune. Rhaego headed their council as he often did. He feed her to C'hiatri and thought little of it. Not until he returned to the kennels to discover that his infant child had devoured several of his ferocious beasts. He then gave her the name her, "Ranora", which translated to "Rebirth" in the Q'aaliyan tongue.
She was tested again on her tenth name day. The day of her first hunt. It was a rite of passage that younglings be abandoned and left for dead in the sacred forest known as the Garden of Bones. They were expected to either brave it's deadly flora and fauna and return, or die and feed the Garden. Ranora deformities made her a pariah among her clansmen, and less than trash to her siblings. The sages and healers of the tribe never expected her to survive this long, let alone return from the Garden of Bones. But her siblings didn't plan to leave her fate up to chance. When Ranora woke up lost and confused in the Garden of Bones, she found herself ambushed by every sister and brother she had. Power struggles such as these weren't unheard of among the Q'aaliya, especially among sisters and brothers. Killing and murder was apart of their culture. Civil war was practically an annual occurrence; the strong survived and the weak was culled. It was their way.
Ranora returned to her father bathed in the blood of her enemies, and altered beyond recognition. Her deformaties were gone. And so were her siblings. All of them, beaten, slaughtered, and eaten. Sons and daughters he molded into tools of warfare, now dripped from the lips of a women he didn't know. Her haunting beauty mimicked his eldest child but her cobalt eyes belonged to his only son. His heir. Her hair was a molten silver, but her skin was a soft tan. A mirror of himself. What returned from the Garden of Bones was an abomination. A homunculus. A monster. And Rhageo loved her like he did nothing else.
The True Heir
From the day she returned, Ranora was treated as his only child among a litnay of bastards. His true heir. He trained her directly. Every night he whet her against stone and diamond until her ability to kill became peerless. She was a force of nature not even the Red would trifle with. No men or beast within the Q'aaliya was foolish enough to cross or question her aptitude for death dealing. Only her Father could stand to contest. Only Rhaego..
To become Q'ali, a warrior of the tribe must perform tremendous feats of bravery, daring and martial valor, as well as being ruthless and canny enough to avoid the machinations of his enemies and rivals. Never in history had a woman ever been named Qali. The very concept would ignite contempt among even the most loyal tribesmen. The sage and seeers never spoke of it, it simply went against tradition. The Q'aaliya never rode into battle with a women at the helm. It was unheard of. They weren't meant to lead the Q'aaliya. They were meat, created to be fucked by Qali. Nurses, meant to hold and feed infant Qali. This was known. It was their way. But the older Ranora grew, the more antiquated tradition became.
By the time she was fifteen, Ranora had accomplsihed more feats than many Qali before her. She was feared by her enemies, and often spoken in the same breath as her father. The Q'aaliya tribe managed to roll over thousands of miles of land and even establish clan posts throughout Vescrutia. Their numbers were growing and their influence couldn't be ignored. But Rhaego sought to expand the Q'aaliya too every reaches of the planet, and it wasn't long before The seeers caught wind of a power struggle occuring within the Astral Chaos. A tournament that could decide the fate of one the worlds super powers.
"Only those of Hellgate lineage can stake their claim, my Qali."
Ranora rode off the same night. She didn't need her Qali to know what she must do. Her blood boiled with excitement at the opportunity to prove herself. And her belly growled from its bottomless depths. The Kingdom would be hers. And soon, she'd be crowned Qali of two worlds.
Ranora's appearance is akin to her avatar. From her lips, to her curves, to her styles, to her ebony splendor, Ranora's beauty is otherworldly.
She has cobalt tinted almond shaped eyes that are said to burn like ice when excited. Sand colored skin with long flowing platinum tresses that glow like molten silver in the light. Her hair is gilded with golden bands and coiled in several free flowing braids. She posesses a birth rune like all Hellgate children on her left shoulder and on her tongue, like all Florum. She has no idea how to use it or its purpose.
Ranora wears traditional Q'aaliyan tribal garb.
The Q'aaliya shun armor isn't gleaned from the creatures they hunts themselves. Their wardrobe consist of tunics, robes, coats, gauntlets, cloaks, threads, etc.. All bearing the hide or skull/ bones of the hunted creature. Ranora's attire was a reflection of that.
Ranora is a callous young women, who barely talks or opens her mouth unless its to eat or kill something. She is harsh. Selfish. She is the second in command of a deadly cabal of maurders and rapists that near the tens of thousands. She was raised a cannibal and a hunter, so she is a incredibly proficient killer. The Q'aaliya taught her to be more cultured in the world than the rest of them, even the elders couldn't speak the common tongue to her aptitude, but that isnt saying much. She was bred into a race of warriors, who favor bloodshed over most things. However, Ranora is not a savage. She has become incredibly particular about what she eats. After eating her siblings, she's developed a fiendish hunger for Hellgate flesh.
She is flippant, capricious, vulgar, violent, and incredibly immature. Being raised by horde of hunters and gladiators goaded her into a life hedonism and carnal fulfillment before she finished wetting the bed. During her years with the Q'aalyia, war, sex, blood, and vices were among the pillars of her life.
At seventeen years of age, she believes her wrath and cunning to be peer none. She over confident, arrogant, and she is incredibly quick to anger. She has never in her life felt remorse.
Ranora possess the ability to eat practically any material and understand it down to a molecular level. She can even digest Naten to a slightly weaker degree. However, she suffers from a genetic defect that merges her DNA with whatever she ingests. Typically the effects are temporary, but organic matter has various effects. She is largely immune to poison and other pollutants, toxins, or venom.
-Ranora is a Hellgate, but she has no power over Hellfire. However, like most Hellgates she possess some resistance to extreme temperature. Her elemental affinity is wind and when she applies enough Naten, she can generate gales of molten heat.
She can fly and fight's with far more proficiency when airborne. She can produce powerful wind tunnels,or even small tornadoes.
-Ranora has developed her own combat style that involves controlling the entire radius within one's arm length, creating a sphere of influence around herself. The sphere itself is invisible, but simply represents the area in her reach. Within, Ranora is accutely aware of every strike or movement made against her within this tight sphere of wind.
The strength of Ranora's father stems from a lineage of titans. Giants. It is unsure where or what clan, but most tribes were killed during the second turn. Ranora carries a fraction of this old blood. Shes doesn't have the unnaturally, daunting size but she does have:
Ranora is stronger than her body can readily control. But she is young, so her own bones sometimes break under the force of her own attacks. But Giant flesh possesses piezoelectric properties, which means they get tougher and more resilient with exposure to external pressure or latent heat. She can heal from wounds that should prove fatal but she is far impervious. Rhageo's hide had grown to tough, many thought him impervious to damage of all sort. But his scars tell tale of the work behind the glory. And he is hundreds, if not thousands of years old. Ranora is only seventeen.
Ranora favors her hands over other forms of weaponry, but she is skilled with a sword, lance, and bow and arrow. She carries on her finger a ring forged of an amorphous mineral that can channel Naten called Nhor. It resembles crystal and can assume the form of any physical weapon Ranora desires. It is strudy and strong, but not unbreakable. However, Ranora can reassemble its pieces if she is close enough to them. The crystal is bonded to her blood and was her oblt tool given to her by her father.
The True Heir
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- Ranora Hellgate
- Posts: 15
- Joined: Tue Sep 06, 2022 11:54 pm
The True Heir
Last edited by Ranora Hellgate on Sat Oct 01, 2022 7:51 pm, edited 5 times in total.
Re: The True Heir
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2 posts • Page 1 of 1