“You call me wicked for using every gift I was given—what then are you, who waste yours?”
-
Name: Xandera of Hextor
-
Alias(es): Venom of the Mire, The Velvet Lich. Necro-Bimbo
-
Race: Half Giantess (Hextorian Bloodline)
-
Nationality: Hispanic
-
Homeland: The Swamp-Queendom of Hextor—a sunken empire of ruinous opulence and skeletal industry, where the orchids bloom from bones and the soil remembers the dead.
-
Age: Indeterminable—though she claims her “prime” never ends
-
Height: Approximately 8’ 6”
-
Weight: 450lbs
-
Sexuality: Heteroflexible Dominant – “Why confine appetite to a menu of one?”
-
Gender: Female.
-
Eye Color: Golden-amber, with flecks like smoldering embers
-
Hair: A torrential cascade of crimson-gold, thick and wild like flame fed by perfume
-
Skin Tone: Warm umber, kissed by blood and sun, gleaming with eternal vitality
-
Physique: Monolithic and statuesque—hyperfeminine yet militant; wide hips, obscene curves, and thighs sculpted like divine pillars. A body that tempts, dominates, and terrifies in equal measure.
-
Posture: Regal, fluid, predatory. She does not walk—she enters spaces as though summoned.
-
Relationship Status: Possessive. If she lays claim to you, then you are taken—regardless of what you think.
-
Occupation: Dark researcher
-
Affiliation: Sovereign of the Bloom-Factories · Mistress of the Forgotten God’s Reclamation · Patron of the Damned
-
Alignment: Lawful Possession – She will do anything to bring about her vision of undead synthesis and dominion, so long as it upholds her law, her beauty, and her control.
-
Magic Specialty:
-
Decaying Fog
-
Toxic Mists
-
Swamp-born Necromancy
-
-
Faith: She is the one true god (in her eyes)
-
Notable Traits: Possessive, Obsessive, Calculating, Ruthless, Charismatically Cruel
Pet: An undead Cerberus Disruptor. (Several dead disruptors she stitched together that she uses as a mount and a protector.)
Reputation: Feared. Worshiped. Coveted. Condemned. In courts, her name is spoken like a curse—in bedrooms, like a prayer. She is both the sin and the penance. Among necromancers, she is divine. Among clergy, she is blasphemy incarnate. Among ex-lovers, she is the one who never truly left.
“Let the soft-minded recoil at the flesh; it is the mind that dominates, and the soul I intend to keep.”
Romantic Tendencies
"The smaller they are, the easier they are to cradle... or crush. Either makes for fine entertainment."
Her heart, if such a thing still beats beneath her velvet-clad ribs, favors the delicate and the diminutive—those whose statures contrast with her towering splendor. She finds immense delight in short men, not despite their height, but because of it. The size gap is not a barrier to her—it is a throne from which she may preside over affection like a divinity lounging above her votive.
In her eyes, their smaller frames invite indulgence, worship, and divine superiority. She enjoys cupping their chins between her fingers, lifting them with effortless grace, watching awe bloom in their eyes when she kneels—not in supplication, but inspection.
Xandera is, without question, dominant—emotionally, intellectually, and physically. Romance, to her, is a theatre of worship and possession. She does not woo so much as ensnare, wrapping her chosen paramours in webs of gifts, praise, and intoxicating control. Her affections are overwhelming, obsessive, smothering in silk and rot. One does not date Xandera—they survive her devotion.
"He called me overwhelming, once. So I kissed him hard enough to leave bruises and told him, 'Then be overwhelmed, darling.'"
.png)
