|Wharf Commander Zesstra Riknueth|
|Date of Birth:||10 Melxminkalat in the year 377 (10 November)|
|Place of Birth:||Gulanadur|
|Race:||Half Elf - Half Dark Elf, Half ???|
|Eye Color:||Storm Grey/Blue|
|Weight:||Hah. Good one.|
|Nickname:||"Damn, that's a huge bitch..."|
|Religion:||The Church of Kicking Your Ass|
|Occupation:||Wharf District Commander of the Royal Guard|
|Marital Status:||You honestly think someone would marry that??|
Alas, we have the famed dragon rider of Drache's Royal Guard, now the Commander of the rough Wharf District, awarded her rank due to the extreme dedication she has shown the guard, and her steadfast loyalty to Captain Lucius von Stahl. She patrols the skies atop her mount, a green dragon named Stinkmaw, who's idea of justice involves eating criminals before they ever have a chance to stand trial. As a byproduct of their many, many years together, she is immune to the dragon's potently acidic chlorine breath.
Though born in Gulanadur to a Dark Elves|dark elf mother, she did not spend much of her life there, as half-breeds are frowned upon and denied the use of their House name. Raised instead on the surface by her father, whatever he was (she won't say), she grew up traveling back and forth across Arangoth, from the borders of Elvendeep to the mountains beyond the Nie River.
Roughly eight decades ago, she'd stumbled upon what she had thought at the time to be a trap: a young green dragon, barely an adolescent, who appeared to be stuck in some sort of weighted snare. He'd thrashed himself bloody by the time she came across him. Wary of a green dragon's reputation for being particularly nasty, even the young ones, she had kept her distance while she inspected his predicament. Dragon hunters were few and far between, but they were ruthless in their pursuit. If they could catch them still young and inexperienced, they'd see to it the dragon never reached maturity. However, it wouldn't have been beyond a green to feign injury in order to lure a meal closer.
Voices, shouts and whoops had caught her attention, and young half elf quickly hid. The voices came from dragon hunters, a roving tribe of them, closing in to admire and finish off their prize. The young dragon's pale green eyes met hers, and something tugged at her. She would not just watch such a magnificent creature be destroyed. He was scarcely over being a baby! And so she had downed the hunters, one by one, darting from cover to cover, lethal bolts knifing through the forest. All but one fell to her sniping arrows. The last... well the last met -his- end down the throat of the dragon.
She had moved closer then, stepping out of her hiding spot. "I'm going to set you free now, youngling... please remember that it was not I who brought you this pain, but that I give you your freedom from it." It was a huge risk; he might just eat her for her troubles. Even so, she had bound herself to releasing him, and so she would. In the midst of cutting his bonds and working frantically at the traps that held him, she'd not heard the footsteps behind her. A blade flashed and was pressed to her throat. Huge meaty arms dragged her to her feet. So she would die for her troubles then, but not by the dragon it seemed. The blade pressed in against her throat, drawing a thin line of blood. The man spoke a language she did not understand.
In her mind, she had heard a guttural order to draw a deep breath and hold it. Green mist shot from the dragons opening maw, enveloping both her and the last of the hunter tribe. She shut her eyes tight, breath held, as the chlorine breath was released. The man holding her choked, released her, and clawed helplessly at his throat. It was over soon, the beating of one great wing dispersing the deadly cloud.
Her eyes had fluttered open then. still stinging and watering with the residue of the poisoned cloud. Before her stood the young green, wings tucked to his back, towering over her. She damn near dropped dead on the spot, until she heard that voice in her head again, "My life is yours." And thus an unbreakable bond had been forged. They bonded to one another over the years, he as her partner, she as his, growing closer with each year spent together. She would die to protect him, such was the loyalty. With time, Stinkmaw had proven his loyalty to her beyond a doubt. So did she own him? No. Could she command him? Again, no. He is of his own mind, but in general, the two get along well, sharing a friendly banter now and then.
She is -very- tall, just shy of 7 feet flatfooted, and crests that when in her armor. Because she is not a full-blooded dark elf, her skin tone tends to have an inky bluish tone to it, rather than the generally expected ebony. Her hair is long, snow white, and she tends to keep it arranged in a bajillion tiny microbraids. She has her father's eyes, a stormy grey-blue.
Talents, Skills, Quirks
Zesstra is best known for her unmatched archery skills. She is always seen with a beautifully crafted, double-bolted crossbow strapped across her back, and a pair of daggers at her hips. Her ability to clock someone in the jaw is fairly proficient as well ;)
As all Gulanadurian dark elves, even half-breeds, she possesses their racial compulsion, an obsessive drive to do... something. Anything. She focuses this obsession onto her job, out of a very real personal fear of letting it turn destructive.