Bellatrax

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kham
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Joined: Wed Dec 15, 2010 2:29 am
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Bellatrax

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- Cruelty begets cruelty
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Name: Bellatrax
Given Name: Beatrix Hasari
Race: Human
Place of Origin: Sembia, Gur Transient

Age: 35 years old
Height: 5' 8''
Weight: 152 lbs
Eyes: Emerald Green Eyes
Hair: Chestnut Hue
Skin Color: Dark Brown

Some called them Gypsies others referred to them by their common moniker Gurs - Selune’s Children: wanderers, transients, constantly moving from settlement to settlement. While generally well-meaning people they were more than often met with prejudice and disdain. One particular clan of Gurs seeking fortune would make a destination from their homelands in the Western Heartlands to Sembia, a land ruled by merchants and dominated by trade. This particular clan would wander about Sembia peddling their unique self-crafted wares, offering entertainment, and enticing patrons to risk their coin in parlor games. This clan prospered for many generations in Sembia as they transited about the realm. It was this particular clan that one Beatrix Hasari was born into. Unbeknownst to her at the time her destiny would ultimately find her the last surviving clan member and the victim and subsequent architect of retributive massacres.
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On a spring day in 1335 this particular clan had settled outside a small village along the river Ashaba in northeastern Sembia. While many villagers help deep seeded prejudices against the Gur they would nonetheless approach their settlement to purchase their crafts, find entertainment, and wager their coin. The town tanner, Jyson Philler - a scheming gambling addicted opportunist, crafted a sadistic plan to earn back the coin he squandered in parlor games with the Gur and confiscate their wealth. It was a simple plan that would incite existing prejudices. Philler would first convince one of his friends to spread a falsehood about getting swindled in a card game to lay a foundation of indignation. He would then convince his already shifty and secretly promiscuous daughter, Elba, to venture to the settlement and seduce one of the younger male Gur (which sadly was easy to do given their limited options being transients) and subsequently come running from the settlement back to the village with her cloths in tatters and (self-inflicted) wounds falsely claiming the young man she had assailed her virtue. With the assault accusation and the indignation from the alleged swindling still festering, Philler inevitably got the very result he wanted, an angry mob of pitchfork and torch welding villagers filled with bloodlust.
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Beatrix, no more than 11 years old, slept comfortably in a raised bunk bed nestled in her family’s wagon. Her mother and father having already ensuring she had her milk and was comfortably tucked in before they themselves took rest for the night in their bed in a curtained off section of the wagon’s interior. This would mark the last night Beatrix would ever see her parents alive again. Beatrix would awake to the sounds of blood curdling screams from all directions and choking smoke from within the wagon. In her attempt to escape through the normal exit on the other side of the curtain partition she would instead find a wall of fire that already engulfed half the wagon with her parents nowhere to be located. She remembered a small escape hatch on the floor of the wagon just beneath her bunk that her father installed should such means of escape ever become necessary. As she pried open the hatch she would scream out to her mother and father to no avail – her pained screams were drowned out by the desperate screams and shouts emanating from outside the blazing wagon. Realizing she had only one course of action available to save her life she leap through the now open escape hatch and landed on the ground just underneath the smoldering wagon she called home for much of her life. What she saw when she looked up as she lay on that ground would forever rob her of her childhood innocence.

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Beatrix had seen indescribable cruelty that fateful night as she watched with horror as the people she once called family and friend were butchered before her eyes by the marauding villagers. In their bloodlust none were spared: neither young nor old, neither man nor woman, even pets were slaughtered out of spite. Pools of blood and mutilated corpses stained the ground where the settlement stood. Fortunately Beatrix managed to crawl to safety in the nearby woods unnoticed; though it afforded her little solace given she was now alone with the images of unspeakable cruelty and horror waged against her loved ones seared in her memory. As Beatrix looked towards the glimmering moon she couldn’t help but feel her deity had not just failed to protect her but those she cherished. It was here she concluded there was no innocence in the world she had come know and that it was truly a cruel, dark, and unforgiving place. A cruelty shielded from her until that night. Beatrix surmised that if she was to survive she had to face the cruelty she witnessed with even more cruelty. This was the paradigm Beatrix felt herself compelled to embrace as her gaze shifted from the moon towards the dark void of the forest now before her.
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Bellatrax stood before the alter of Shar, a dagger clutched in both hands raised above her, the point of the dagger facing down above the virgin sacrifice bounded in chains to the altar’s surface; a noble maiden abducted off the streets of Ordulin as she blithely returned home from a soirée that ran late. Facing Bellatrax, a cleric of Shar and a nameless demon Beatrix Hasari had exchanged her soul with for the Eldritch power she now commanded. ‘Bellatrax’ was not just a name the demon had bestowed upon Beatrix but a mark to indicate she now belonged to him. The virgin sacrifice Bellatrax was preparing to offer for the benefit of Lady of Lost and her demon overlord was part of a ritual Bellatrax was contracted to undertake once a year to retain and enhance her Eldritch powers. The demon had no use for the virgin’s soul it merely appeased them to witness the eradication of purity, as much as it did the Cleric of the Lady of Lost, if not the Mistress herself. As the sacrificial blood from the noble maiden seeped from atop the alter onto the floor, Bellatrax would find herself further infused with Eldritch power and the essence of the Mistress of the Night.
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The villagers didn’t speak much of the ‘incident’, as many now referred to the genocide they collectively perpetrated some years ago. Like many villagers Philler continued his affairs with little remorse, after all he was a sadist and was rather proud of himself for confiscating the cache of gold held by the Gurs during that genocidal night. He and his daughter, Elba, were now set of life. Other villagers were simply of the opinion justice had been righteously served. There were no Sembian authorities interested in investigating the genocide to the extent they were even aware of it.
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Bellatrax approached the village along the Ashaba, as its inhabitants slept under a moonless night, with a Balor she summoned from the Abyss at her side. At this moment she alone wielded enough power to inflict the same desolation it took an entire mob of pinch-fork and torch wielding villagers to inflict upon those she admired and loved several years prior. Cruelty beget cruelty and by the time the sun rose the following morning the village was nothing more than a smoldering heap of charred dwellings and splayed corpses, many impaled on the pinch-forks they used that fateful night several years ago: The river Ashada would run red with blood that day. None were mind. In her mind Justice had been served as Bellatrax’s made a destination to points west ultimately leading her to the Sword Coast.
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Personality:
While seemingly amenable, Bellatrax is often uncompromising and insistent. She cares little of the feelings or emotions of others; seeing them as tools to be toyed or manipulated with. Though she confers an affectionate and nurturing demeanor it’s truly self-serving in nature, a vehicle to achieve her own personal aspirations.

Bellatrax speaks with a distinctive accent. A trained linguist would recognize her accent as an amalgamation of several regional accents indicative of someone who is a transient. While audibly thick she would nonetheless genuinely insist she doesn’t carry an accent.


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