Boethiah
Dark Messiah
| Social Information |
| Relationships |
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| Possessions |
| Confirmed Kills |
| Biography |
The green grass seemed so peaceful, such a paradise this world was; a beautiful landscape of plains and valleys, dotted with lakes and groves. So why was it such a pleasing world as this been plagued by darkness. The Primeval were exiled long-ago in numbers over disagreements with Umbara, such disagreements were long forgotten but one thing remained. A stain on their minds. Their great leader, the Faceless Child. Little is known of their Immortal caretaker but his actions echoed throughout their entire society; the First Prophet, the Paramount Priest, the Faceless King, the Immortal Lord. These are just a few names bestowed upon him but what he's most known for is being the founder of The Primeval. It was he who witnessed the great Gods hidden deep within the Galaxy and he who carried the fabled Tome of Halromalenth which became the gateway between the mortal believers and the immortal deities. And it would be him who saw an entire wave of followers become outcasts and sent out into the Galaxy. Many worlds marked their Pilgrimages and violence was never their forte; in fact their fleet had few warships and even fewer warriors. Outcasts and refuges, not just Umbaran but human, twi'lek, and others too. Those who had no place to go and believed in their great prophet. Their footprints still remain on many worlds but the one most remembered was the fateful moment they ventured into the unknown.
Convinced that the Gods were somewhere in the voids of fringe space, the Prophet took his people and their fleet towards deep space in search of the first world. The birthplace of life and home to paradise. Their voyage would be succumbed by loss and misfortune, some lost faith and others turned on each other but they still survived and went on. Delving into darkness one by one the fleet began to feel a growing sickness amongst them. The Prophet whom they all loved and cherished had become more grim. First it began with forced labour, many of the hands had been lost due to disputes and there was need for Order. It was tough and few questioned it but then the orders got more twisted. Monument building, executions, torture of the weak. Weeping was prohibited. The Gods did not look down on the weak mercifully. Only the strong were worthy of their love and grace, and only they would be able to find Paradise. When it was that one day they did stumble upon a world of green pasture, mild climate, and wealth in more resources than one: It was already too late. This peaceful pilgrimage became a zealous crusade and at their very weakest the ships were abandoned to the world below. The pain did not stop; the Prophet denied this to be the home of the Gods and claimed all had forsaken their tasks. Many of the leaders were purged and only the truest faithful would survive and repopulate. A century or two had passed, the world was now surely under rule. Oddly it did not change much. It remained peaceful and full of life only to be corrupted in places by the horror of their Prophet. The Primeval grew sicker even still... For one fateful year The Prophet spoke of the Gods being deep within the Galaxy they came from and demanded they rebuild their fleet. Although they had plenty of knowledge brought with them there weren't many shipwrights or engineers. It took decades for them with trial and error to complete their tasks. The First Host was born and with it they set out into the unknown, never heard from again.
With each host decades between the undying Prophet became more and more impatient and commanded greater discipline and brutal punishments for the unfaithful. Things that could not get worse did and even still he was not pleased. Eventually the Prophet secluded himself in dark palace, never again setting outside into the world and spoke through slaves and willing priests. To maintain Orders several patriarchies emerged from within the greatest bloodlines of their people. Aj'Rou was one of these bloodlines and were specifically tasked with leading the Bleeding Sun, symbol of their bloodline and symbol of the Bleeding Sun Inquisitors. Those who sought out blasphemy and heresy, eradicating it wherever it may reside. Anja was born into the bloodline of the most zealous, of the most faithful, and never knowing her mother who was cast away when her purpose was no longer suitable. Azaran Aj'Rou -- her father -- was the High Inquisitor and saw great potential in his daughter, despite wishing for a son he was pleased that at an early age she was aggressive and obedient. The only flaw she had in his eyes was her curiosity; she asked too many questions and even begged ones that were controversial. Such as their origins, and why they believe in what they believe. If it wasn't for the blood in her veins she would've been severely punished but instead she was merely guided away under fear and pressure. Rewarded when she killed a fellow student in sparring or undermineded her instructors and sold out the blasphemous. She was also quite self-righteous and proud, quickly taking full force of her name and status to reap benefit over others in her position. It wouldn't be unthought of then that she was able to climb through the castes of society and become an Executor by her early twenties. When it was announced that the next Host was ready to launch in half a decade she eagerly went to prove herself. The Host Lord was not a position taken lightly and many trials went with deciding whom it would be. A Harbinger of the Gods, the one who searches for them. Trials of combat, ingenuity, faith, and pain. Even the strongest willed of them could succumb to fear and despair at the hands of their Faceless King whom ordered the most horrible rituals. Unspeakable acts were committed, and Anja did them all. If there was anyone she feared it was him... The Prophet. The one who whispered into her head and commanded her to do terrible treacherous things in proof of her unwavering loyalty. When it was decided she would lead the next Host there was silence amongst the world. It wasn't met with cheers or applauds, for one thing did come with being part of the Host. There was pride in such a duty but also great dishonor. For to do so you must forsake everything and blur the lines between heresy and righteousness, to put a stain on all things good and have the power to decide practically anything of notion regarding their ways of life. It was a double-edged sword to be sent out to never return but to have the opportunity to face your Gods and rise to immortality.
So from the little green world of pastures and groves, life and paradise, the innocent child would become a slaughterer, a Lord of destruction and death, Harbinger of Gods and chaos. Forsaking everything they are to achieve the ultimate prize.
- Name: Anja Aj'Rou
- Alias: The Revered
- Titles: Host Lord, Harbinger of the Gods
- Homeworld: Bastion/Primeval Fleet
- Living Situation: Order's End (starship), Imperial Palace (Bastion)
- Sexuality: Pansexual
- Marital Status: Single
- Force Sensitive: Yes
- Force Rank: Witch Spellweaver
- Force Alignment: Darkside
- Species: Umbaran
- Gender: Female
- Age: Thirty-six
- Height: 5'8"
- Weight: 54 Kilograms
- Eye Color: Pale Blue
- Hair Color: Dark Brown
| Relationships |
- Spouse: N/A
- Parents: Azaran Aj'Rou, Unknown Mother
- Sibling:
- Uncle:
- Aunts:
- Cousins:
- Ancestor:
- Children:
- Grandchildren:
- Master: [member="Soliael Devin Talith"] (informal/Briefly?),
- Mentor:
- Apprentices: Salacious Vile (slave/former), [member="Nimue Stormson"] , [member="Maja Vern"] , [member="Juniper Le Fey"]
- Allies: The One Sith , [member="Dredge"] , [member="The Queen"]
- Acquaintances:
- Enemies: [member="The Shadow King"] , [member="Keira Ticon"] , The Shadow Dynasty
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| Possessions |
| Confirmed Kills |
| Biography |
The green grass seemed so peaceful, such a paradise this world was; a beautiful landscape of plains and valleys, dotted with lakes and groves. So why was it such a pleasing world as this been plagued by darkness. The Primeval were exiled long-ago in numbers over disagreements with Umbara, such disagreements were long forgotten but one thing remained. A stain on their minds. Their great leader, the Faceless Child. Little is known of their Immortal caretaker but his actions echoed throughout their entire society; the First Prophet, the Paramount Priest, the Faceless King, the Immortal Lord. These are just a few names bestowed upon him but what he's most known for is being the founder of The Primeval. It was he who witnessed the great Gods hidden deep within the Galaxy and he who carried the fabled Tome of Halromalenth which became the gateway between the mortal believers and the immortal deities. And it would be him who saw an entire wave of followers become outcasts and sent out into the Galaxy. Many worlds marked their Pilgrimages and violence was never their forte; in fact their fleet had few warships and even fewer warriors. Outcasts and refuges, not just Umbaran but human, twi'lek, and others too. Those who had no place to go and believed in their great prophet. Their footprints still remain on many worlds but the one most remembered was the fateful moment they ventured into the unknown.
Convinced that the Gods were somewhere in the voids of fringe space, the Prophet took his people and their fleet towards deep space in search of the first world. The birthplace of life and home to paradise. Their voyage would be succumbed by loss and misfortune, some lost faith and others turned on each other but they still survived and went on. Delving into darkness one by one the fleet began to feel a growing sickness amongst them. The Prophet whom they all loved and cherished had become more grim. First it began with forced labour, many of the hands had been lost due to disputes and there was need for Order. It was tough and few questioned it but then the orders got more twisted. Monument building, executions, torture of the weak. Weeping was prohibited. The Gods did not look down on the weak mercifully. Only the strong were worthy of their love and grace, and only they would be able to find Paradise. When it was that one day they did stumble upon a world of green pasture, mild climate, and wealth in more resources than one: It was already too late. This peaceful pilgrimage became a zealous crusade and at their very weakest the ships were abandoned to the world below. The pain did not stop; the Prophet denied this to be the home of the Gods and claimed all had forsaken their tasks. Many of the leaders were purged and only the truest faithful would survive and repopulate. A century or two had passed, the world was now surely under rule. Oddly it did not change much. It remained peaceful and full of life only to be corrupted in places by the horror of their Prophet. The Primeval grew sicker even still... For one fateful year The Prophet spoke of the Gods being deep within the Galaxy they came from and demanded they rebuild their fleet. Although they had plenty of knowledge brought with them there weren't many shipwrights or engineers. It took decades for them with trial and error to complete their tasks. The First Host was born and with it they set out into the unknown, never heard from again.
With each host decades between the undying Prophet became more and more impatient and commanded greater discipline and brutal punishments for the unfaithful. Things that could not get worse did and even still he was not pleased. Eventually the Prophet secluded himself in dark palace, never again setting outside into the world and spoke through slaves and willing priests. To maintain Orders several patriarchies emerged from within the greatest bloodlines of their people. Aj'Rou was one of these bloodlines and were specifically tasked with leading the Bleeding Sun, symbol of their bloodline and symbol of the Bleeding Sun Inquisitors. Those who sought out blasphemy and heresy, eradicating it wherever it may reside. Anja was born into the bloodline of the most zealous, of the most faithful, and never knowing her mother who was cast away when her purpose was no longer suitable. Azaran Aj'Rou -- her father -- was the High Inquisitor and saw great potential in his daughter, despite wishing for a son he was pleased that at an early age she was aggressive and obedient. The only flaw she had in his eyes was her curiosity; she asked too many questions and even begged ones that were controversial. Such as their origins, and why they believe in what they believe. If it wasn't for the blood in her veins she would've been severely punished but instead she was merely guided away under fear and pressure. Rewarded when she killed a fellow student in sparring or undermineded her instructors and sold out the blasphemous. She was also quite self-righteous and proud, quickly taking full force of her name and status to reap benefit over others in her position. It wouldn't be unthought of then that she was able to climb through the castes of society and become an Executor by her early twenties. When it was announced that the next Host was ready to launch in half a decade she eagerly went to prove herself. The Host Lord was not a position taken lightly and many trials went with deciding whom it would be. A Harbinger of the Gods, the one who searches for them. Trials of combat, ingenuity, faith, and pain. Even the strongest willed of them could succumb to fear and despair at the hands of their Faceless King whom ordered the most horrible rituals. Unspeakable acts were committed, and Anja did them all. If there was anyone she feared it was him... The Prophet. The one who whispered into her head and commanded her to do terrible treacherous things in proof of her unwavering loyalty. When it was decided she would lead the next Host there was silence amongst the world. It wasn't met with cheers or applauds, for one thing did come with being part of the Host. There was pride in such a duty but also great dishonor. For to do so you must forsake everything and blur the lines between heresy and righteousness, to put a stain on all things good and have the power to decide practically anything of notion regarding their ways of life. It was a double-edged sword to be sent out to never return but to have the opportunity to face your Gods and rise to immortality.
So from the little green world of pastures and groves, life and paradise, the innocent child would become a slaughterer, a Lord of destruction and death, Harbinger of Gods and chaos. Forsaking everything they are to achieve the ultimate prize.
