What?  You wish to know about the past of the Dark Lady Miztrezz? Why do you think I would know such a thing? Some things are better left unspoken, but if are sure...

Revealing the past of Miztrezz is a tricky thing.  Over the many years I have known her she has told me many tales.  I sometimes think that madness has overcome her and she honestly believes something different each day.

Some of the more interesting pasts she has shared:

She once was in love with a peasant she met on the biggest ship the Asur ever created, but she lost him when the ship sank but she keeps a treasure she calls "The Heart of the Ocean" to remember him.

She had a pie shop once where she would make meat pies from the remains of people the upstairs barber had slain.

She once found a ring that was very powerful but cursed, so she had to make her way to a volcano to destroy it.

She was a mythical crime lord using the name "Kaiser Soze" whose wrath was so terrible that the mere mention of her name made criminals do her bidding.

She was the daughter of a king and had a twin sister.  Mizzie was locked away wearing an iron mask so that there would be no contest to the throne.

All of these have been found to be... factually inaccurate, but the last one is the most intriguing.  Many of the stories she has told me involve a twin, so I did my own research and consulted the Codex Noir for the answers.

Here is as close as I have come.

She did indeed have a twin.  They were not the children of a king, however, but the children of a high ranking holy man.  Following traditional Asur ceremonies when they were children the oracles were consulted to give them names from the gods.  Her sister's name translated to "Angel's love."  Her parents were very pleased to have thier daughter have such a special name.  Then came time for Miztrezz's name.  The name she was given translates to "Demon's Lust", which instantly caused her mother to burst into tears and changed the nature of their relationship from that day on.

In Asur society twins are rare, but they do happen.  Most often the twins are mirror reflections of each other and have a bond that only they understand.  But this was not the case with Mizztrez and her sister.  As their named revealed they were polar opposites and had little in common.

As they grew Mizzie was cared for, but it was her sister that was always in the spotlight.  When they reached thier adolescent years Mizzie learned the ways of the street while her sister prepared for a life in the church.

As time went on Mizztrez grew more and more jealous of the attention her sister was getting, especially the gifts she recieved from the Gods.  Well, most of them.

Mizztrez decided one day to take her sisters place.  Since they were identical she figured it would be easy, and no one would even take notice that Miztrezz was gone.

Her sister found her in her bedroom one late night after a long day. She was to become a priestess the next day and spent the entire day in prayer.  Miztrezz walked up to her, embraced her one last time and then took her life.  The manner of which is unclear.  It is not something she talks about.

The next day she dressed as her sister and headed to the temple.  The ceremony went on without anyone giving her even a second look.  The Gods would not be fooled though.  When she was about to take the final solemn vow, the voice of Asuryan was heared booming throughout the area.  He demanded to know who this imposter was.  Mizzie, always defiant, stood up and said what she did and blamed the Gods for driving her to this.

Asuryan was not amused.  He told Mizztrez that she was cast out from Asur society and marked her arms so that any that saw her would know to avoid her.

The world turned to light and pain for Mizzie.  She awoke in a broken land which she knew to be near the land of the Druchii. She fell into despair over what she had done.  While she was jealous of the attention her sister received, she did care for her.  Now she was gone and so was everything else.

She laid on the ground for what felt like an eternity.  Then a voice told her to rise.

She looked up to see the form of Khaine. She rose to her feet with a look of hate in her eyes.  She spat on the ground and told him she had enough of the Gods who abandoned her long ago.

Khaine told her that he never abandoned her. Her name was a gift from him, but some gifts are not as apparent as others. He told her that if she wanted her revenge against those who never saw the jewel that she is, that all she had to do was drink from his cup.

She eagerly took the cup, feeling the hate burn within her.  She drank deep from the cup and only when it was done did she realize it was blood. She wanted to ask whose blood it was, but part of her knew and she didn't want to hear it out loud.

Khaine told her that he imparted his gifts upon her, that she would be unequaled in battle especially when her lust for murder grew. He told her that there were other more subtle gifts, but she would discover those it time.

She immediately headed back toward the land of the Asur, ready to exact her revenge.  She felt her feet stop, as if stuck to the ground.  She turned to look at Khaine and he told her the scope of what he intended for her was far larger than an individual can handle.  Her path, he said, led in the other direction.  He told her to find the mightiest force she could and share her murder lust with them.  To use her hatred to sharpen the sword of destruction.  And then he was gone.

She headed back toward the broken lands, her feet now free.  She was unsure where to go, but she was sure she would follow through with what Khaine had told her.

As she walked she heard the gibbering of a goblin in the distance.  She watched him for a while and found him interesting for reasons she could not understand.  Perhaps it was because he kept mumbling on about how he was a "child of Sin."



This fool, Jachin, thinking that he can tell my story. The arrogance of men, the arrogance of a Blackguard. Truly he is foolish. I mean he can't even get my name right! Miztrezz...Mizzie...certainly sounds different to me.

I can tell you a story. I can tell you lots of stories. Would you rather hear it straight from me or from some "prophet", who thinks that our insane Dark Lord Noir has some wisdom to impart to us? Really, how droll.

I'll tell you, tell you something I haven't ever told anyone before. I don't like to talk about where I've been, things I've done or events I've seen. Any true telling of my story might reveal some weakeness or fault that I have worked very hard to enshroud.

Most anyone who talks to me now may think that I'm too "pleasant", not really  the characteristics of a "normal" witch elf, is it? I've found though, that if you're always showing that you're evil, wicked and cruel that you don't have a lot of people putting trust in you. They'll keep you at arm's length always careful around you. Well, that just wouldn't do. I don't like to be kept at arm's length, it infuriates me to no end. I prefer things up close and personal, both figuratively and literally.

Oh, so that thing I was going to tell you, right. Sorry for my digression, can't ever seem to stay on point.



So, a long time ago, in a land far, far away  I used to quite like telling stories, I'd tell some real good ones too. I liked to get everyone all riled up and I'd laugh and laugh when they found out they'd been had. It was quite comical to see their reactions, all up in a frenzy, first worried and then anger, that flash of anger that would come across their face when they discovered the truth, that was the best. Sadly though, after a while they stopped believing me. I couldn't evoke the same level of reaction from them as I could before. This just wouldn't do, I had to something different.

I decided that I'd play another game with them. If they were not going to believe me then there wasn't much point to telling the stories, was there? So, this new game, it took advantage of the fact that I could play with their feelings another way. I could tell them almost anything I wanted and they weren't going to believe me. But, what if they started to turn out to be true? How guilty they would feel for not acting to prevent it? Guilt, that was a nice feeling to extort from them.  How long until they switched back the other way and started to believe me again? Struggling with themselves, not wanting to be fooled again but not wanting to take the chance that I may be telling the truth this time. An interesting experiment to be sure.

I took to performing all sorts of heinous acts, always warning others that it would happen. Some of the first things I did, no one tried to prevent.

Like the time that I found a small girl on the side of the road. Barely alive was she, that you had to put your ear up to her face to feel her breath. I went into town and told everyone about this girl, that this girl was unconscious and needed their help. She was vulnerable there on the side of the road, they needed to take her in and care for her. No one moved, instead they went on with their business. This delighted me to no end. I returned to the poor girl on the side of the road and immediately slit her throat from ear to ear. The dark red blood flowed onto the ground and stained the earth a dirty dark dark red, it pooled around the young elf's beautiful blond hair and soaked it, turning it a deep orange color.

I picked up the lifeless body of the young girl and carried her into town, putting her down in the central square and started walking away. The people in the square gasped in horror at the sight. Such a young pretty girl she'd been, this vacant-eyed young thing. A scream echoed through the square, one of the waitresses of the town pub came running out and into the middle of the square. Cradling the young limp body of the girl and wailing in despair, she screamed after me in a rage. I just kept walking, with a smile on my face. That was the reaction I was looking for, if only they had believed me, they could have saved the little girl's life. It wasn't something for ME to feel guilty about anyway, the girl might have died anyway, might have.

I'm sure you're wondering how long it took and how many incidents it took for them to start taking stock in what I had to say. I can't say exactly, it went on for quite some time. Sometimes I'd throw out the old stories again, the ones that weren't entirely factual. They'd be in an uproar, those people. I guess they didn't like the uncertainty.

This all just goes to show you, you can tell a lie once, twice maybe even three times. People will stop believing you. They won't believe you when you're telling the truth, or will they?




While rearranging things in my rooms, I've come across an old diary of mine. Of course, I don't bother writing anything down myself, writing is tedious and boring. I like to tell the stories to whatever slave or plaything I have at the time and make them write it down for me. It makes for interesting reactions.

I got to reading and had forgotten many of the events, its curious that my memory seems to often times fail me. One particular story struck me as oddly pleasant, its too bad that I don't remember it all that well, but that doesn't matter, its written in my diary which is enough for me to retell it. This was written by a young boy I had in my possession for a while, his name was Arlendo.

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The lady says I must write what she tells me and if I do, I might be able to go back home to my mother and father. I don't like it here, she makes me do things, horrible things and her laughing scares me. She tells me I must call her "Mommy", I just want to go home, home to my real mother. My skin hurts and my throat feels like it is on fire. Its always dark here and the lady's friends, if you can call them friends, are mean to me. Please, can I just go home?

[center]Mommy's story - by Arlendo[/center]

In one of the villages that Mommy visited there was a group of children that played together every day. One of the little girls had a pretty necklace that Mommy found very interesting. She asked the little girl if she could have the necklace because she liked it very much. The little girl was very mean to Mommy and told her she couldn't have it. She said that her sister made it for her and it was special.

This didn't make Mommy very happy. She said that she had to find a way to get that necklace, but there was always a few big men that were watching over the children as they played near the Blacksmith's shop, so she couldn't just take it from her.

This got Mommy to thinking, if the child's sister had made it for her, maybe Mommy could ask her to make one and she could have one of her own. So, Mommy set off to find this sister and ask. She came across the humble shack that was apparently their home and knocked on the door. The door was answered by a voluptuous girl who appeared to be about 20.

Mommy asked this girl if she could make her a necklace just like she'd made for her sister. This girl was mean to Mommy too. She laughed at Mommy and told her to leave. Mommy doesn't like to be laughed at. But, she had an idea. She had an extremely entertaining idea.

Pushing her way into the hovel, Mommy twisted the girls arm behind her until it popped. The girl let out a shrill scream and dropped to the ground. Mommy grabbed the girls hair and drug her over to the table in the middle of the room and started bashing the back of her head into the bench beneath it. This got the girl to shut up. Mommy saw the blood on her hands and licked it from her fingers. She became excited at the taste of blood and pulled out her dagger and set to work on the girl.

She took the dagger and inserted the point behind the girl's ear, moving the blade through the thick skin down and around her hairline to remove the scalp. Mommy had to work hard at this as the scalp was being stubborn and wouldn't remove easily. Finally, once her carving lines met, Mommy gave it one quick rough pull and the hair and scalp separated from the girl's head. This, Mommy put on her own head, droplets of blood streaming down her face and neck. The warm and thick liquid made her tingly.

Next, she started to carefully remove the girl's face. This was even more difficult than the hair. She had to be careful not to ruin too much of the face if it was going to be recognizable at all. After a time of laborious work she finally got the face separated and in another quick forceful tug, the face came free. This, Mommy held it up to her own face. The coppery smell of blood filled her nostrils and blood flowed into her mouth. She savored this moment the longest, it was almost pure ecstasy. But, she had an agenda and she couldn't spend as much time as she liked just standing there enjoying the moment.

Mommy had taken quite a while to work on her new mask. Trying to clean the blood from the skin and hair but wasn't very successful. Then she decided that she needed to pretend to be hurt, that could explain the blood and it also made it easier to get access to the younger sister, who would undoubtedly come to her sister's side once she learned of her injuries.

Mommy dressed up in the girl's clothing, noting that she was a perfect fit for the girl's clothing, as drab and boring as they were. The clothes were wet and sticky with blood and they clung to her. She found a woolen cloak that she could put on and wrap around her throat to hide the hanging skin that she couldn't conceal.

With this, she set out the door and made her way towards the village center, stumbling and calling out for help. A few of the blacksmiths came running out to her aid and helped her as she fell to the ground. She got to mumbling about being attacked and the blacksmiths ran off to find the perpetrator. The younger sister came running over with tears in her eyes and hovered over Mommy, the necklace dangling from her neck.

Mommy whispered to her, beckoned her to lean nearer so she could speak to her. The young girl leaned in and Mommy told her to please take her away from everyone. She said she needed to go home, lay in her bed, she was too weak to make it on her own. The young girl helped Mommy up from the ground and they walked slowly to the house.

Once inside, the girl saw all the blood. Her eyes opened wide and she surveyed the floor and table, until her eyes fell on something in the corner. A faceless skull lay there, drenched in blood. The girl started to let out a scream but Mommy grabbed the girl by the throat, ripped the necklace from around her neck.

Mommy said this to the girl, "I do have some advice for you. You should know that appearances can be deceptive. You shouldn't always trust what it is that you see. It could be a wolf in sheep's clothing or a witch in your sister's skin, as the case may be" And with that Mommy removed her mask and the girl's eyes became wide with horror.

"I do thank you for the beautiful necklace, its lovely. Next time, I suggest you be a little more polite when someone asks you for something. A lesson your sister learned quite well. You'd be wise to keep that in mind, I do hate rudeness."

With that Mommy left the girl there, unharmed.