Blake Morrigan
The Nightraven
"To survive her darkness she strangled the stars for their light~"
- Full Name: Blake Lacroix
- Family Name: Lacroix
- Nickname: Blake | Bell
- Alias: Raven
- Titles: Darth Salem
- Species: Mind Witch & Dathomiri
- Homeworld: Ke'lai (Dathomir)
- Residence: The Reef
- Rank(s): Sith Acolyte & Witch Initiate
- Master(s): Darth Carnifex
- Force Sensitive: Yes
- Alignment: Lawful Evil
- Sexual Conduct: Bi-sexual
- Faction: The Sith Empire
- Languages: Galactic Standard
- Occupation: Alchemist
- Gender: Female
- Age: Twenty-One GSY
- Height: 5f11
- Weight: 155lbs
- Skin Color: Pale
- Eye Color: Caustic Gold
- Hair Color: Raven Black
- Voice Sample: Karise Eden
Beautiful, ghoulish seamstress; She wafts in the gossamer threads of wordless allure, whilst stitching each meticulous furrow of a masque which divinely enshrouds the tempestuous belly of the beast. Immaculate craftswoman; An artist of a floating world untouched by time and marred none by the ebbing flow of ceaseless change. Deeply ingrained are her coveted traditions, ancient and opulent rituals whose eerie paragon is forever steeled, and willingly clandestine to protect each aspect of her lore from prying eyes and eager lips. Stellar graces enchant with vision and vibe alone, whilst her infinite supply of coiling charisma forces ones mind to yearn in delving deeper. She is the queen bee at the center of the hive, whose honeyed nectar is surrounded by the venomous stings of ten thousand barbs; To reach her bounty is to brave the poison embedded within her very plasma, cells and atoms enriched to the core with a celestial ambrosia that is as toxic as it is mesmeric.
And yet by the time one merely roves her tranquil surface, they need not fret; she is refined, fragrant, soft, and exquisite like the petals of the lotus. Maternal, doting, a wholesomely willing counsel, but impenetrable as the rare golden jade. Lain are the bedding of demons in the portion of her soul that remains unhinged in the darkness of decaying yin, and both hungry, and cunning is their discipline.
What was once silken and sweet morphs into the withered flesh of vengeful death, but in rightful sapience she keeps these dark forces at bay, letting them rot beneath the exoticism that is her impeccable semblance. Sleep in the profundity of solitude be her your ever loyal ally – your maiden savior when times are ever grim, or be haunted by her shadow of plotting your ultimate downfall. An angel of art and pleasure of the bath house; An oily serpent beneath the veil of betrayal. The elusively fickle silver dart, whose piercing tip doth coated in the ebony ink of silent affliction.
But alas there is a passion burning in her heart...the thirst to breathe fire into the world...to ignite the night and set fire to rain. To melt the cold, give life into the downtrodden...for her fire shines bright like the sun itself. Honey dipped hues focus their sight upon the golden paved road...to let her voice be heard by millions...to sing and enchant hearts. Art is her passion...for she herself is art in motion. She hungers for fame, dreams of glory and gold. Treasure buried deep within her cove...the riches she has accumulated. Greed taints her golden heart, possessive over her possessions.
Molten. Igneous. Burnished. Rippling flesh cascades across pearl orchard of feminine skeleton, matriarchal curvaceous glory toned in taut muscle. Her bodice is wiry, an uncoiling assessment of android poise. Elongated legs. A sumptuous face of sculpted bone, her nose a slender invasion of sensory ecstasy and tipped in pure, tarnished gold. Fiendish succubi; Flesh will curl, with salacious intent, broken and seething invitation to taste the rancid bouquet. She is dusted whilst animalistic in the hues of faint smoke and white clouds; donning human flesh she gorges with decadence.
A rich slather of bejeweled silks, oft dark plum and rich scarlet, the colors of maturity, of passion. The gorgeousness! Eyes caustic, galvanized in vibrant gold with hunger within her gaze. An obsidian river flowing from her girlish shoulders sculpted of ravishing stone. Mantled in sin, a banquet of succulent pulp; A surplus of toxic red tide. Malignant stare bespeaks gold reverence, demands the eyes of others to gaze upon each writhing mound of sumptuous plasm which roves across a tender, hallowed scaffolding.
She will be watched, observed, many times deemed a pivotal object of obsession. And yet she moves effortlessly through each plane of her reality, her intrinsic temptations only offering their caress the truest, most palpable appraisal.
A woman of many masks, purity of light with a gentle kiss; Malicious artistry, ephemeral strokes of magnificent alabaster upon the bleached surface of grinning bones. Malignant remnant of era past, primeval, elegant gore beneath the savage light of the swinging pendulum, silver, ethereal within the bruised ombre of the gluttonous skies. Wisps of silvern-white, embellished in a flurry of silk strands, grasping, entangling languid paramour with the silent begging, the whispers of longing, moans of deceit.
More, more, more! Elusive witch, Monster of avid affections, the immaculate tongues of angels doth traverse, wander over perfected flesh and flawless gaze. Honeyed, dewy under the gaze of watchful, observant eye spying havoc upon little light. She bleeds, immortality; she sings, hymns of the divine. She, an idol of righteous purity and martyrdom, a solitary flaw. Spider veins wept, tears of malice, of sanguine wine upon the bare of fair porcelain back, china cracked and irrevocably repaired over the span of years. Still, the imperfection lies, nestled endearingly upon the slight dip betwixt lithe, feminine shoulders.
Substantial Force Control: One of Blakes greatest strengths and skills is her ability to trigger and maintain her connection through the force despite its constant activity. Her ability to focus on multiple things at once and channel the force for long extended periods of time without exhaust or halt. However she a novice, and has only used the force a couple of times and commonly be accident. Though when she focuses hard enough she can sometimes call upon it and when she does she displays impressive amounts of sustainability for someone who has never really learned the art.
Highly Intelligent: Blake, while looking like a common riff raf is truthfully rather intelligent and resourceful. While some on her home world would call her a simple thief or scum she has learned to make the best of her dire circumstances in order to survive. This has made her highly adaptable and thus she is capable of changing things up on the fly, rather it be in a run for her life or a fight to the death. A cunning and calculative mind have served her well in her youth. However, do not confuse her intelligence with knowledge. She is still rather ignorant of a large number of things and can easily be out smarted in a number of fields.
Idealistic: It is hard to determine if Blake is passionate or cruel given just how harsh and unforgiving she can sometimes be. However, no matter the guise she may display at times one thing will always be certain. She, at least as of now. Wants better world...a better galaxy absent of war, poverty, and cruelty. But she is fully aware that ideals cannot change the world...and thus she has adopted the mindset that if things are to change...then she must change them. One way, or another.
Wrathful & Destructive: While this is normally something very few actively see, the truth is Blake is extremely violent and destructive when provoked. She rarely ever expresses interest when challenged to a fight or even met with hostility but the moment the first strike is made she becomes a violent force of nature that is not to be reckoned with. She will not hesitate to burn someone down should they attempt her harm in any way shape or form.
Impatient: This goes in hand with the fact she feels as if she is always running out of time. And with the constant motivation of potential death finding her at unsuspecting moments she never wants to waste a day or a moment. Thus, tedious things such as taking elevators or even trips through hyperspace tend to irk her greatly, and plays a part in battles where she may need to take it slow but is compulsive and eager to dive into danger if it means shaving off a few seconds to complete whatever goal she may have.
Angry: Blake, by nature. is an extremely angry person, and rightfully so considering her position. Raised in an orphanage after being abandoned by her parents only to make a single friend who also abandoned her to study with the Jedi has left her scarred and unable to form meaningful relationships with these lingers attachment issues. This, topped onto the fact that her world is one drowning in war, infighting, economic depression and starvation, she is angry at her situation. And her ever growing desire to change things for the better inspires her greatly, but ultimately only makes her far more furious when she faces the reality that she is worthless and in the end will never be able to help anyone.
Rebellious: She will not keep quite, hold still, bow to unworthy authority or even respect anything without proper reason. She speaks her mind no matter how unfavored it may be, in her mind acting is better than standing idly by and allowing a fool to speak their mind. She does not hesitate and exhibits no restraint. She takes, and she takes, and she takes. And in the end she will fight for the world she desires.
Machiavellian: What was the old saying? "The Ends Justify The Means?" Well, to Blake. This single quote can easily paint a picture of how she feels inside. She has seen first hand just how far morality will get you and that the only thing that matters is results...'progress'. No matter the cost. If a few hundred must die so millions can live she is willing to make that sacrifice.
Self Destructive: You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. Whatever the case, she is willing to cast aside her morality, her sanity, and even her very being if it means the preservation of peace. Be it to a single town, a city, a country, a planet or a galaxy. She is willing to commit atrocious sins and tragedies even if she in turn will be hated and despised for her actions. This is her fatal flaw, her willingness to destroy herself will undoubtedly be her undoing in the end.
Weak: Physically, emotionally, and in almost every sense in the word she can easily be classified as weak. She cannot outperform anyone in anything at her current stage. She is a young girl still trying to find her place and being an orphan she does not know how to fight appropriately, she does not know anything about 'The Force' or how to utilize it. Overall she does not appear very impressive from a surface value. But if she can be given a push in the right direction, who is to say she will not become something truly great?
Cursed: This is an odd feature unique to her ever since she was found by the orphanage. For as long as Blake could remember her left arm appears to be marked with a blackness. Ebony markings cover her arm that reek of dark side energies, and while it is currently unknown what these markings mean or where she gained them, they tend to hurt her rather dramatically whenever she uses the force. Which is one of the main reasons she avoids using it unless by accident. Her arm is commonly bandaged and covered up. Though any force sensitive with a lick of experience will be able to sense the foul energies emanating from her very being. Curious...very curious.
This was the first woman Blake had ever loved, and she loved her with her entire heart.
An old Jedi of the Republic Jedi Order had fathered four - the boys with eyes of pure gold and a girl silver with a hint of her mother's green. The first two boys were promising - Faiz and Isra. They shared their father's jagged intellect along with his eye color, and even moreso his ambitions. He expected much and offered little, as all fathers in their family did. So he put his eyes on the firstborn son. Faiz imagined his father's high rank as his inheritance. It was expected of a firstborn male. It was tradition, and tradition was everything.
But the second twins came. Two more silver-eyed children, one strong and broad, the other lithe and slim. Javid and Blake. And Blake learned fast. She quickly usurped favor from the eldest. She was devout, and even more quick-witted than her older brother, if less cunning. She was curious and often stood in her father's shadow asking questions. Faiz knew what was slipping through his fingers as his father smiled and taught the youngest child. He tasted bitterness and found it lacking. He manipulated Javid's own jealousy, and the brute of a child began to knock Blake against the walls when mother and father were attending business. When the children were sent out to play, Javid would bruise and cut her while Faiz mocked. The words hurt even more than the cuts, but Blake was persistent. She would run to escape his tormentors, and trusted only her middle brother Isra. He told her it would be alright.
And he met Akira. She was not yet a woman, barely even a girl, but Blake loved her second-most to her mother. She had been born a pale and small child with strange blue eyes and silver wisp of hair. If her mother was a crow, then Akira had been a dove.
She was younger than Blake, and both still had snuck through the crannies of the city of Ke'lai, peeked into sacred altars not yet meant for their youthful eyes. Once they splashed through the shallow, snakelike river that was the planets pride of the capital. That was before the river dried. Blake had loved her as a sister - her only friend, for her true siblings hated her for their father's love, the other native children hated her for her father's status, and the adults hated her for her father's psalms and verses.
The abuse from the girls brothers only intensified as they grew. Her mother told her she played too rough when she returned home with bloodied legs - she only shrugged. She recited the prayers and stories diligently and poetically and her father was proud. But she could not overpower the bitter cunning and brute force of Faiz and Javid combined. It was easy to forget that her other sibling could be dangerous too.
Isra's story is a complicated one, and would need it's own telling. There is something deep in the families genes, something built wrong, for while each of the children had been strong of body and wit, each had pieces missing, some faulty wiring, and for Isra that wiring caused an electrical fire. He had been a quiet boy before his episode, and only Blake had seen it coming. Many months before the inevitable explosion, Blake had seen the insanity began to creak out through cracks. The things that he did to her when the others were away she could not mention - but the marks that he had left on her heart were deep. She had trusted him, loved him even, as she loved her mother and Akira, but he betrayed her. He was a raptor, a dark hawk on her horizon each day. She could not tell, not even Faiz knew, only Akira shared her struggle. For her parents she remained strong and bright. But she shied from her sibling like a shadow from noon sun.
One day Akira and Blake walked alone at the edge of the city limit, hiding from their tormentors. They gazed at what seemed to be the edge of the worlds, the smooth edge at the border of their district. They tossed stones over the edge and listened to the swallows chatter. How appropriate it was that an eagle would swoop in to eat a songbird. When Isra found them, he left his sister weeping. He left Akira silent. And it seemed not long afterwards as Blake stared into the dark abyss where her friend now rested...a darkness came to her. An evil so prominent that the girl found it hard to breathe. Visited by an ethereal phantom...a Sith.
Darth Carnifex visited her that fateful night. He gazed upon the child wracked with hate sorrow and torment. And with a dark hand her cast darkness upon her. Sith Magic and ancient runes carved upon her flesh as she was bestowed the Mark of Kaine. Blackness etched into her skin, darkness seeping from her very blood as her light was tainted by darkness. Blake did not know why this happened...she only knew what would happen next.
The lower district buzzed with hatred at the news of the supposed accident. The pale girl had been well loved among her people, and her death made her a martyr. There was much violence as the resulting low caste uprising was squashed. Many innocent and a few warriors perished. Only the warriors got funeral dirges. The others were tossed off the cliffs to follow their pale daughter. All eyes turned to the former Jedi's daughter, marked by a Sith Lord and darkness festering on her very soul. To kill a dear friend, yet alone child was not a cardinal sin - but he refused to admit to the claim, and to lie was dishonor. Faiz saw his chance. Isra smiled manically in the dimming light.
"Father" they said. "Cast off this dishonor. She sullies your name, so cleanse yourself of him." The high priest's silver eyes were colder than the young children had ever seen them. He reluctantly agreed.
Her mother protested before the sacred circle. She spoke where she should not have, for she was only a first-wife and a low-priestess of their family, and no maiden or mother was allowed to speak in that holy place. The high priest had no choice but to strike her to silence, though it pained his heart to injure his beautiful and gentle lover.
"Go." The high priest said to his youngest daughter, finally. He never knew where all of Blakes cuts and bruises had come from, never knew about the things she had been called, the threats against her life. All gifts from her siblings, as cruel as desert storms and sun. The priest hated what his family had become, hated all of them even as he loved them (hate and love were often intertwined in that loathsome place) and he sent Blake away. Blake did not learn what became of her siblings - Isra's eventual descent into madness, Faiz and Javid's exodus. An angel cast out from heaven, from the skyscrapers of Ke'lai to the lower districts where light did not dare shine. And it was then she found the orphanage where she would spend the rest of her young years.
Blake never returned to the upper districts, and hated the gleaming buildings for the memories they stirred. She hated the birds that she had once admired - swiftlets, doves, swallows and hawks were bitter to watch. The sun burned her eyes and skin.
She found a new home, and pretended to love it, pretended that it's songs were as lovely as the psalms her mother had sung, the psalms she no longer believed in. She was an outsider, but worked hard and earned enough trust to venture out on her own. They were rough, these folk, survival for them the only gain. They taught her endurance. Life as an orphan was...a struggle. Especially being an Orphan with no hope of a future. Because when you lived in the lower districts, you did not have kids. Such a move would only spell uncertainty. And with that in mind who in the right mind would adopt?
But still...she passed off well enough.
981d78b051c30abee403e7b1c5e1f592.jpgHere she met the third woman to break her heart - her mother's tears, friend's corpse, and brothers smile having already been more heartbreak than she could bear. She was a white swan, tall and graceful, ivory and glittering, light of voice and footstep. She walked moonlight with this foreign broken raven, for she was a foreigner here herself, and she laughed easily with her. She was smart, her wits dazzled her even more than her blue eyes, and she found in her everything that she needed. She was well-spoken and well-loved by all of the orphans, especially the men, who admired her and were jealous. She smiled freely and she loved life passionately. Blake felt almost healed, she put aside all her sadness in a box to the side and trusted once again.
Her name was, fittingly enough, Ivory, and she loved her more than stars, more than shade and water and air. She liked to sing, too, and she taught her the songs that her mother used to sing and told her that it was the greatest gift she had to give her. They worked together, doing whatever they could for a little extra credits. Blake even bought her a small apartment...nothing fancy, but it was nicer than that orphanage. Though...their work often kept both of them away, but she would just as often warm it with her. Blake would leave to fight, steal, and survive any way she could. But when she returned, she returned to gentleness - offering her the greater shares of the spoils of labor, precious food.
Their struggle for survival as teenagers was evident...and yet, it seemed the universe was not keen on leaving them be. War soon came to their home, The Order of Valos had rained down hellfire upon their planets capitals...the battle was not a long one. Their superior firepower, armies and resources allowed them to take over with nearly no effort. And after they took over things only seemed to get worse...the rich were cast out from their luxurious lifestyles and those who rebelled were cut down. It reminded her of the day Akira had perished...and it was happening all over again.
Blake never knew what happened to her family, and in the end it did not matter. Ivory and Blake watched as their planet descended into chaos. Turned into a backwater planet the was drowning in the agony of innocents. Her homeworld, once a prosperous and thriving society despite its numerous flaws had been turned into hell on earth. And no one dared step up to their new oppressors.
And yet despite the overwhelming odds...Blake was not going to let it carry on. She vowed to free her people from the tyranny of warlords who would continue its plummet into the abyss. Blake and Ivory made a pact sealed with blood. They promised each other that no matter how long it takes, no matter the cost or sacrifice...and they would break the chains that shackled their homeworld.
Blake held true to her promise. Ever since that day she did whatever she had to do. She worked shady jobs, joined gangs. And eventually entered herself into the slave trade in order to position herself next to a man named Vicewood...a major player in the Order of Valos. Allowing her body to be a product being sold on a shelf, she sacrificed her rights to secure the information key to victory.
Meanwhile, the Silver Order had been poking around...and in doing so they found Ivory. Needless to say, they took interest in her Force Sensitive nature and talents. Offering her training and whatever other nonsense they sold her to rob her of common sense...she came to Blake. Explaining her own plan...to train under the Jedi and grow stronger, wiser, and more powerful so she could one day come back to free her people through a more influential name. The name of the Jedi...
Blake protested...retaliated viciously. Reminding Ivory of the promises made and shedding light on the deeply personal sacrifices Blake herself had made. But Ivory didn't care...she was convinced her way was better. And she would leave Blake alone to suffer through it all alone.
For Blake, this was not only a dagger to the heart, it had reopened every wound that had had been dealt there. She hated her then even as he loved her more than ever. The home she secured for them suddenly felt like a prison as she stood in it. But worst of all was the doubt. She had lost not only a another dear friend, a potential lover, but the semblance of hope she had for one day attaining...something that made her truly happy.
After that day...she never saw her again.
And though her heart was only shredded tatters and icy numbness. And yet despite that she remained true to her promise. She would free her people...with or without her.
Meticulous planning brought her to the acropolis. And it only took her three years to do it...three years to see it all pay off. She had embarked on the path of blood and bet it all on a single game...and won.
