Zeta, more commonly known as Spider, currently maintains the air of a troll gone rogue. An assumed defector of her Tribe, she is commonly found wandering the lands, searching for something. Accepted within cities of the Horde as "just another troll", she has not actually pledged any sort of allegiance to anyone but herself.
"The female of the species is more deadly than the male."
As with all trolls of the forest variety, this young troll is covered from head to toe with a vivacious green moss interrupted by a myriad of intricate raised scars. These scars hold no memory of battle nor the harsh bite of a predator, instead they have been placed meticulously and deliberately by a steady hand. Jagged swirls, and whorls mixed with delicate strokes create an impressive picture carved into flesh rather than inked into it. If one were able to take the time to study this ritual scarring they might notice the many nods to The Venom Queen. Were one to look upon her back, there would be no mistaking the image of the Spider made up of many smaller lines.
Upon her face rests a Spidersilk veil, covering everything below the tip of her nose. On occasion, when the head is tilted in just the right manner, a glimpse of intense black can be seen. She is never without her veil and what mysteries lie beneath remain hers.
Being young, she has not yet reached her full potential in height or girth and for now remains slight, though sturdy with a short crop of white spikes down the center of her skull. Yellow eyes hold all hints to the expressions which may be displayed beneath her veil while sharp black claws, usually stained with blood, hint at a rather violent nature.
In general, Zeta prefers to wear items crafted of spidersilk, keeping her close to the Loa of her devotion. A varriant of white robes with virulent green or blue depictions of spiders upon them make up the majority of her wardrobe.
What is rarely ever spoken of is this trolls beginings. If asked, she will relate little if any information on the subject. Her tale, however, begins in the Hinterlands.
What would satisfy an answer to the question remains simple. The girl came from a life of tending to temples under Vilebranch tuteledge; what is privledged knowledge, however, even to the Spider herself is that she was born to a brood mother within the Witherbark Tribe, the group of trolls who had previously inhabited certain areas within the Hinterlands.
An Unusual TusklingEdit
Birthed in Shadra'alor, it was seen from the very beginning that the child had an affinity for the Spider Loa. Where others may falter in the presence of the eight legged arachnid, Zeta found herself entranced. This alone set her apart fom the other children, but it was simply the begining.
Naturally, all trolls have a feral side, it is part of their very nature, Zeta however also seemed to possess a heightened sensitivity to blood which triggered a much more violent nature than is common. As a suckling infant, feeding time would often result in a bloodied wetnurse and lips stained red. It wasn't long before those charged with caring for the tribes young thought twice before tending to Zeta's hunger pangs.
An unfortunate situation for the infant child for as her siblings grew in height and girth, she remained scrawny and slight. The runt of the litter. Such events were of little concern to the growing beastie as she kept mostly to herself, keeping her spiders as her closest company. As a tuskling the other children learned quickly it was best not to pick fights with her as they always resulted in a bloody mess, even if the scuffle was never intended to end in fisticuffs. On those occasions a brawl errupted in earnest, it was never long before her opponents found themselves the victim of nerve damaging toxins thanks to an eager swarm of spiderlings. Despite her appearance as the "runt of the litter", the girl innately knew how to make her mark (quite literally).
To say this trolless was different would be putting things mildly.
Devoted One, You Shall be MineEdit
The Hinterlands had always come with a low life expectancy, what with so many different groups vying for the land. The Revantusk Tribe barely held any threat as they stayed mostly to the coast, but the dwarves to the west and the Vilebranch to the east posed a great problem to the struggling Witherbark. This viciousness displayed by the young trolless did not go unnoticed and ultimately became a stepping stone in the erradication of the Witherbark in the Hinterlands for good.
When the Vile Pirestess Hex learned of the girls "curious nature" she sent her Headhunters to raid the temples and exterminate the remaining Witherbark trolls who laid claim to the land, instructing them to return with only the strongest alive, Zeta among them. The Cataclysm proved an opportune time for the Vilebranch to strike. Hexx's Headhunters all but wiped out the Witherbark of Shadra Alor. Few were spared and even those souls were not kept for long, ultimately sent to the Altar in the mountains as sacrifices to Hakkar.
Mercy was taken upon the young girl, only just growing into her tusks, her "young innocence" and "lust for life" (read: easily impressionable and desire for blood) cited as reasons for her pardon. From that point on, she was reborn as a Vile Sadist of the Vilebranch Tribe.
With careful training to control her overwhelming desires which now bordered on OCD, Vile Priestess Hexx managed to mold Zeta into a devout member of the Vilebranch, erasing all memory of her former roots.
Venom Queen I Heed Your CallEdit
In true form with the Goddess she represents, Zeta embodies both life and death. In choosing the path of a healer, the girl brings herself into a very unique position. Her insatiable desire for blood draws her to the wounded, taking a very hands on approach, reveling in the chance to dig her claws into torn flesh and muscle in hopes of discovering just how the insides work. Others of her tribe quickly discovered that if they were to chose Zeta as their healer that the Little Spider would sink her fangs in for her own purposes before getting the job done.
Zeta, while under strict orders from Vile Priestess Hexx, still finds her one true master to be none other than the Heart Weaver herself; Shadra. Despite any other task she is put to, it will always be Shadra's best interest tugging at the back of her thoughts, even if she doesn't quite realize it.
Elortha no ShadraEdit
Goddess of Spiders, Mother of Venom, Silk Dancer, Death's Love.
The Venom Queen and the Heart Weaver.
Dually worshipped as the patron of creation and order, as well as a bringer of death and misery.
Those seeking this formidable Loa find her temples inhabited by Vilebranch Zealots.
You will find none more devoted to The Silk Dancer than those who protect these temple grounds, tending to the temples, paying tribute and caring for the countless Children of Shadra who freely roam the area. To be bitten by one of the Venom Queens Brood is to know true suffering.
Mother of Venom, Give Me Your MilkEdit
It is well known among the Tribes how the Witherbark would coat their weapons in spider venom, but only those who stray too close come to realize the Vilebranch have taken up this practice in their wake. Zeta, having always prefered the company of spiders over her kin, spent many of her early days among the Venom Milkers, learning the proper ways to extract venom without hurting Shadra's Children and without falling victim herself.
Though she knew proper procedure and handling of the precious liquid, when impulse struck, she was wont to obey. It started as a simple thing really.. dipping a claw or two into the collection container when no one was looking. Testing the effects of a claw swipe on small critters before using a coated claw against those of the Tribe who taunted her.
Delighted in these results, she moved on to more dangerous application, coating her moss covered skin in the stuff. A prickling tingle crept across her skin as the venom finally absorbed into it, and before long she fell prey to adverse effects. This, however did not keep her from administering the Venom is such a way, slowly building up her resistances to it until finally she dared ingest a drop. The resulting waves of firey euphoria, muscle locking pain and mild addling visions provided new horizon for personal application. The begining of her masochistic enjoyment of pain.
These practices are still followed today, though after years of application she has dveloped a resistance.
Given her upbringing and general "fend for yourself" attitude, Zeta has only one thing on her mind. "What's in it for ME?" This egocentricity leads to snap decisions based on immediate gratification with thought of consequence coming at a later point in time, or perhaps not at all. She hasn't quite experienced anything to have molded her into a well rounded individual and so consideration for others is not a high priority for her.
Being so visceral and acting upon whim does tend to make for awkward company. It is not often one will find her openly affectionate in a traditional sense of comraderie and friendship, as these things are foreign to her.
It is hard not to note the constant fidgeting or pacing of this trolless. It is a rare case for her to remain still for long. Also it should be noted that when caught by the scent of blood this compulsion to move increases, her attentions turning to a hyperfocus on the source of this life fluid.
What is a self-centered sado-masochist without a few more issues thrown in the mix? This wretched soul is simply terrified of large bodies of water. Stemming from an incident involving a near drowning early on in life, Zeta has developed a warped view of water. For one, she has great anxiety when faced with the ocean. Something about its constant motion and rolling waves charging the shore sends her into a panic. Lakes are more managable, however are still approached with extreme caution. Rivers and streams are a preferable source of the liquid, as long as they are slow and shallow, after all, water is a nessecity in survival. Ponds and puddles are even more acceptable. Coming from a homeland with most forms of water, Zeta has been fortunate enough to know which sources are best avoided and which can provide her a drink without an overwhelming sense of dread. Rain does not seem to bother her all that much, however downpours do raise her anxiety levels.
As for bathing, well... she prefers not to get wet if she can help it, as doing so would wash away the applications of toxins to her mossy hide. Sand scrubs, dirt baths and the occasional damp cloth to the flesh are her preferred methods of cleanliness.
For the Horde? Edit
Zeta's presence among Horde cities is lacking at best. The overwhelming population of major cities tends to produce more anxiety in her than it's worth. Even lesser filled outposts hit a certain nerve in her, causing an added aggitation to her already tweaked nerves.
Her arrival among the Horde and successful presence among its cities hinged souly on the lack of interest in the trollish population. Suspicion of trollish intent had barely been a thought in those times. Even so, she kept to herself, merely nodding dumbly when presented with the question of loyalty to the Warchief and his causes.
Defector... or something moreEdit
Curious that she should decide to mingle among the Horde races when the High Priestess herself had taken such passionate interest in the child. A defector to her tribe and therefore newly welcomed member of the Horde forces. Or was that really the case? Most would not bother to ask let alone desire to know. A luxury the Spider does not take for granted.
While weaving her web of deceit and misdirection, this trolless is tasked with a greater goal. The Vilebranch seek power, but power does not come without sacrifice. It would be foolish to think that these forest dwellers would deem personal sacrifice as a suitable offering. No, those in control have focused their sacrificial requirements elsewhere. Having used up most of their immediate resources, Priestess Hexx has come up with a new plan.
As surely there are others set to the same task out in the world, Zeta's soul purpose among these adventurous heroes of the Horde is to find suitable paragons of strength, power and influence to report back to Vile Priestess Hexx. Luring such a being or beings back to her Tribal lands for sacrifice would be the icing on her cake, though she tends to get more caught up in her own personal desires than the task set before her.
Contamination, Detox and Sweet RecontaminationEdit
Since having entered onto Horde lands, many things have come to pass, new compulsions developed. Shortly after her arrival, through pure luck and coincidence a new set of targets entered her sights; a small collection calling themselves the Sul'thraze. Perhaps if not for this band of beasts, Zeta would have found herself back in the Hinterlands much sooner, instead she quickly found herself drawn to them. And why not? She'd discovered Dark Trolls and who wouldn't be intrigued by that?
More savage than others she had encountered, with secrets of their own and strength that would satisfy her Vile Priestess even beyond Hexx's wildest dreams. If only the Spider could lure them into her web. And lure she did.. or at least she tried, but somehow found herself caught in the tangle as well.
The Dark male, in particular, had piqued her curiousity, as she had apparently caught his. A pure matter of intrigue and nothing more had her spinning silk threads to draw him in closer. Pestilence they called him and with good reason she had come to find. A rank smelling brute who seemed to prefer the company of insects over all else, cruel and calculating. Each strand of her web had been meticulously crafted, delicate yet made to keep..and somehow along the way those silken threads became too sticky for even the Spider to waltz upon.
It was blood that had always been her downfall, succumbing to its heady scent, drawn to its beauty, its uniquely provacative taste. A single misstep and she became a slave to it. A cold fact that became even more true when she'd allowed her own to mingle with that of the "prey".
The fevered addiction that began the night she'd allowed Pestilent blood into her own veins had a short lived hold on the girl, however, which was both convenient and devsatating to the Spider. As soon as the leader of the Sul'Thraze had discovered Zeta's affliction, she quickly worked to cleanse the infection. The dosage had been too high and surely would have seen the Vilebranch dead with just another days time. Unfortunately, while this detox had in essence saved her life, Zeta still resents the Wyvern for taking away what was rightfully hers.
Over time the presence of the Pestilent one began to fade, though Zeta's desire for her newfound drug never waned. It would seem he had entrapped her more firmly than she had snared him. Whatever the reason, the male disappeared, but Zeta kept close to the rest, ignoring her mission in favor of her own personal desires yet again.
Stuck In Between the Shadows of my Yesterday...Edit
Time has a funny way of affecting people and time without? Each day brings a new torture. It begins with a yearning, a frantic need building into a frenzied desire. She would have done anything just for a taste. Days bled into nights and nights to days. She trailed after the one remaining Dark in hopes that something would change.
Keeping company with Dark Trolls has both benefits and downfalls, but soon Zeta became too doped up to know the difference. In order to cope with the excruciating detox she had been put through and her near constant cravings for what was lost, the Vilebranch developed a new routine, cycling through a handfull of arachnid companions each day to inject heavily on their venom. Fevered, erratic, sometimes less than functional, she has waited to find something..anything to replicate the euphoria that had almost killed her.
The perpetual junkie, Zeta has ignored everything but her own desperate desires, every day became a new roller coaster of ups downs and sweet torture. Most days she barely even noticed the changes taking place around her. More Darks, for that matter, war, her acceptance into what was known as the Dark tribe, the "Night Fury". Her presence or lack there of in the ongoings of these creatures made little difference to her.
Until one day hallucination merged with reality and that sweet poison which she'd so desperately sought was returned. Swept away in a fit of rage and reintroducted to her daily dose of Pestilence and plague, the Spider's own blood now carries infection once more.