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PostPosted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 1:49 pm 
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Joined: Mon Jan 21, 2013 2:45 pm
Posts: 4
Gamespy ID: Anga
Character Name: Anga Ju'on
Gender: Female
Race: Itheril
Age: 152
Class: Barbarian
Domain: N/A
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Deity: Valsharess

Anga is never groomed, and always eccentric. Her hair is wild, her body covered in piercings and tattoos of various sort - displays of her barbaric nature. Her clothes are thin and lacking but tight to her slim, athletic body so they don't hinder movement in the slightest. She may accessorize with pointed collars and wrist bands or other spikey add-ons which, while all seemingly fashionable in relation to the rest of her visage, are also meant to add protection or offensive advantage in combat. Her stare is untamed, and the rest of her countenance, and behavior, tempestuous.

Anga's maniacal laugh carried well above that of the others who surrounded the wounded cur lying in the center of the circle the group had formed, and even above the few shouts to, "Inbau phor!" But the Itheril woman would not get up so easily, not with the large gash Anga carved into the back of her thigh using one of her two axes. The woman was a fool to challenge the Ilharess d' Ju'on, and she wasn't the first.

Anga is often underestimated due to her smaller frame, and for that she is constantly challenged for her position. She is only the third to carry the mantle of Matron since Ju'on was created by Valsharess and favored as a House, but has kept it the longest. When in combat, fueled by blessed rage, few could best her skill, and none of them have stepped up to try it yet. Even the assassins sent by House Dalharil, who still seek revenge against Houe Ju'on for the crimes of the Feral Prince long ago, fell swiftly. After thwarting their attempt she twisted and ripped the heads from both with her bare hands, one of them still alive and screaming as she did. Those heads are now piked at the ends of her throne arms, her nails scraping over their hatcheted skulls when she stands from it.

The woman finally stood up, hopping on her one good leg and growling with fury from the pain and the fact she was being bested by this little biatch of a Matron. A Matron who showed no restraint, nor patience, and charged with a battle cry so fearsome that it silenced the rest of the gathering for the remainder of the fight. The only sounds aside from her cries were those of steel through flesh, blood to stone. It wasn't long after she was standing above the challenger again, who was now an unrecognizable mess of severed parts. Anga spit out a bit of blood. Not her own, but some from the many sprays that doused her with every violent scream and concurrent swing of her axes. Ultrinnan, Ju'on!. Victory. They all shouted it back to her in a celebratory chant, praising their blood-drenched Ilharess.


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