Maharajah Apharada

[*Cibernadie]

Basic Information
Name: Maharajah Apharada.
Aliases: Various diminutives such as Ma or Maha, as well as cat jokes galore.
Gender: Female.
Race: Rakshasa.
Age: Over a thousand years of continuous existence.
Profession: Ruler of the court of Ak'Chazzar. Slave Trader. Noble.
Languages: Common, Elven, Draconic, Infernal, Abyssal, Celestial.
Accent: Only when disguising herself as other humanoids.

Physical Information
Height: 2.3 Meters tall (7.5 Feet)
Weight: 90 Kilograms (200 pounds)
Body build: Athletic.
Skin type: Furred.
Hair style: Black fur.
Scars: Unblemished skin.

Colouring:

[b]Hair:[/b] Black [b]Eyes:[/b] Grey [b]Skin:[/b] White, under all that black fur. [/li]

Mental Information
Alignment: Initially lawful evil. Currently it sits on neutral evil, as she has long since abandoned the rigid taboos of her species, and the theatrics that come with the pursue of evil. Where most Rakshasas would give a speech about their superiority to a group of adventurers, Maharaja would simply blast them apart and get on with business.
Philosophy: Everyone below her is a potential pawn to her schemes or a potential victim of her machinations. A thousand years of existence demand the utmost obedience from her peers, and there are few creatures that earn her honest respect. The only thing that matters is the return of Ravanna, the politics, alliances and battles of others are meaningless and petty, specially of non Rakshasas.
Deity/Beliefs: A devout worshiper of Ravanna.
Personality:

[u]Authoritarian[/u] [i]As a ruler of her kind, she has grown accustomed to have her will carried out by those around her.[/i] [u]Patient[/u] [i]As an old being, Maharaja understands time is the ultimate solution.[/i] [u]Machiavellian[/u] [i]As a manipulator, she instinctively seeks to control everything around her to her.[/i] [u]Cruel[/u] [i]As a worshiper of Ravanna, ruining lives, spreading misery and destroying entire communities means next to nothing besides the divine sacrifice her god demands.[/i] [/li]

Additional Information
Gear: Richly decorated crimson robes that flow with a wind of its own.
Jewelry: Her backward fingers are dotted with golden jeweled rings and bracelets. Her claws and fangs are coated in gold, etched with arcane symbols and encrusted with gems. Collars, headbands, rings, belts and necklaces of a similar fashion.
Habits/hobbies: Collects staves. Likes to sample exotic treats.
General Health: Magic, will, and sheer will keep the relatively old Rakshasa in an equally relative good shape for her kind.
Favorite meal: Raw, seasoned flesh and sweet confectioneries, in equal measure.
Weaknesses: Her disregard for the lives of mortals means that most of the time she will not even acknowledge them as a real threat or a factor in her schemes, which can be very counter intuitive in a place such as Sigil.

[*Cibernadie]

Life Story

Maharaja is an old Rakshasa. She is one of the extremely few Rakshasas who have not died or otherwise perished since the last time Ravanna's cycle started anew. Having survived centuries of schemes, hunts, and the politics of her kind, Maharaja climbed through the ranks of her court with a creeping patience until she became the ruler of her court. Few have attempted to claim her position since then, as her cold determination and extensive experience makes her a formidable opponent, both in intrigue and open challenge. Feared and respected, her rule was uneventful but prosperous, keeping out of the in-fights other courts went through to instead put emphasis on the Rakshasa's duty of accumulating wealth and enslaving mortals for Ravanna's sacrifice. She grew older still on that throne, and turned her attention to higher matters.

Besides her role as a ruler and artificer, she had always been one of the most fervous worshipers, named on occasion as an honorary priestess due to her aggressive pursue of Ravanna's will. Being one of the few to have witnesses Ravanna in full glory (albeit only for a brief moment, before he was once again slain by Rama), her first works to break the cycle of eternal death and reincarnation of their deity had great support from the Rakshasa community, but proved ineffective to spread the influence of their deity upon the mortal worlds. Exhausting all possibilities and ideas from a Rakshasa-exclusive environment, Maharaja had the strange epiphany to search for the answer in the mortal worlds, outside their own kind.

The infamous tale of the Dwarven Portal reached her ears after decades of scouring the various prime worlds for useful knowledge on the topic of trickery, deceit and ritualistic sacrifice. While the portal trick in itself was hilarious, the part of the story that most intrigued her was how the necromancer tricked an entire dwarven community to unknowingly perform a false ritual and become part of their traditions. This piece of aberrant wisdom was a revelation to her. To fool victims into spreading the divine work themselves, without knowing what they did. The idea itself was, in her opinion, the ultimate manipulation. Her accomplices in the church of Ravanna disagreed, since it would require revealing to the mortal races a modicum of their secret rites and traditions. With a large number of courts and the church condemning her proposal, the Rakshasa decided to pursue her scheme independently, completely invested in her plan.

After designing the perfect way to spread her influence, the rational next step was to find a place that would provide the perfect breeding spot to reach as many communities in the multiverse as possible. Following a similar method from before, Maharaja carefully searched and travelled the prime worlds for a place where slavery was both widespread and socially accepted by all mayor societies. Pursuing half-forgotten tales and strange accounts of wanderers and strange tales of a city that exists everywhere, the existence of Sigil, and the many portals it hid, was eventually discovered. A place that leads everywhere, and where everyone meets, where devils sell, celestials buy, and the multiverse mingles together. More importantly, a place such as that held a suitable place to establish outside of the courts, far from the tiring game of thrones and intrigue Rakshasas spread wherever they accumulate. A place where a millenary Rakshasa could stop worrying about hunters, assassins, usurpers, for at least a moment and simply walk down a street and watch others without turning her heels or repeat the endless theatrics of her kind.

It was only a matter of months to discover a path that led there, and before long she stepped into the portal that led her to the Foul old Spirit Inn...