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    [color=white][big]❄　❄　❄　❄　❄　❄[/big][/color]

    [color=white][big]❄　[/big][/color][color=cyan][big]Lissandra, the Ice Witch[/big][color=white][big]　❄[/big][/color]
    [color=blue][small]I will bury the world in Ice.[/small][/color][/color]

    [color=white][big]❄　❄　❄　❄　❄　❄[/big][/color]
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    [hr][hr]
    [color=cyan][small]Profile coded by Leisha Kriss. <- She's awesome. Sincerely, Lady Liss.[/small][/color][collapse=An Evening with the Ice Dervish]
[color=white]Oh how it was always a glorious time to come back from a victory. As triumphant as one could dream of being,

after giving someone a proper thrashing out on the Fields. Lissandra, the Lady of the Frostguard, the Ice Dervish, emerged in

the throneroom of her great Citadel. The massive expanse of ice, stone that cast over the glacier-riddled north of the

Freljord. Far from Ashe, or Seljuani's rolling hills of snow, pine. Her harsh lands bred some of the tougher folk around, the

numerous soldiers of her Frostguardian army standing test to that. How many years had it been now, since she'd been in

power? Keeping her kingdom together, despite the constant threats from home, abroad. The fight in the Fields had been quite

the delicious one. She always admired the look of fear on the faces of those she was about to crush. It was a part of the

multiple sides to this woman. One day she is encouraging the warmth of her fellow Champions, allowing them the chance to

relax snug upon her body within quite the lovely establishment. It was always quite lovely to feel the warmth of one's head

snug upon her bosom, curious fingers wandering over cooled, silken flesh that they weren't allowed to have. Lissandra

was unsure as to how she /was/ able to carry such emotions with her. Why would she not rip one's throat out, or freeze

their very blood? All as punishment for such a silly, petty crime as squeezing upon her breasts. The thought of such actually

brought a soft, pencil-thin smile to her plush, blue lips as she stood in the solitude of her bedchamber. The space was a vast,

empty one (as far as people were concerned, anywhom) lined with several antique pieces of furniture. The chamber was set

much like that of a Queen's. A richly-decorated boudoir was off to the left of a sizeable, four-posted bed done up in lush,

royale-blue fabrics. She had stood behind the screen of the boudoir, peeling away the dirtied armor that covered her frame.


This was a slow, agonizingly-careful task. The Lady often had to be easy with how she'd removed said armor, nicking one's

self with the platemail was an often painful experience. Nothing a bit of healing magic could not fix, but doing such all of the

time was plain troublesome. The first piece done away, was her breastplate. That had to go first off, as her precious bosom

had not been able to breathe within the mass of metal. She took in a slow, wondrous breast that let her bust flex back, then

forth. The heavy, cream-blue breasts heaving back, then forth with the action. By the Watchers, that was -- better. Much.

Much better. The smile flush upon her lips grew, her body starting to finally relax itself off of the adrenaline high combat put

her into. Once the breastplate was gone, her spaulders, underarmor came easily enough. Thin, nimble fingers working to

undo various straps, latches that held on the cumbersome metal. With her height however, it was easy to reach over, plant the

metal upon it's proper stand. Someone would tend to it later.


When all was finally off of her frame, the Lady took her time with a bit of stretch before a full-length mirror. Her

sight magic allowing her but the bare sight possible, to see what was before her, however it was certainly not enough.

Lissandra stood in front of the mirror, nearly bare. All she'd kept on her frame was a soft, strapless black bra that did so very

little to support her cups. If one peered just enough, they could see the pert nipples pressing to the fabric. So very small, for

how large her breasts were. Whilst giving her shoulders a gentle, relaxing roll, she'd brought her own hands to her bosom.

Letting her fingers slowly, sensually sink into the flesh. Her lips slowly easing open, as a gentle moan of pleasure left her, biting

snug upon her lower lip. Unf. That was nice, wasn't it? She would have to tend to that growing pressure in time. Lissandra,

with her hands snug upon her own bosom, barely able to get a single hand around either of the breasts, closed her scarred,

blank eyes. A spell was thought up, projected into the next room. All she had to do now, was wait. One, two, three minutes,

then a solemn knock upon her chamber door. A great mass of runic markings, metal, that only opened to her will.

"Come in!" Came her echoing, sultry tone. Oh, wouldn't their reactions be utterly priceless? After all, what noblewoman

asked their own servants to offer their opinions on their ruler's looks.


The doorway slid open at the Lady's words, revealing a pair of her servants standing with their eyes wide. One was a fine,

young woman by the name of Valdriel. A woman standing strong at a sizeable 6'. Long, waist-length blonde hair floating

down her shoulders. Crisp, blue eyes as bright as a shining star. Quite the lovely girl. She had her hands politely folded

underneath her bosom. Her entire frame covered in thick, billowing robes that flowed down her buxom frame like a cloak of

fine fabric. Next to her was a recent addition to the Citadel's staff. A boy fresh from boyhood, from the city below, happy to

secure work for himself. He could not have been older than nineteen, -- a mortal human, too! He was dressed in much the

same attire, long, billowing robes right down to his ankles. The pair shuffled right over towards the curtain hiding Lissandra's

figure. What they say when she pulled it back was simply-- unimaginable. She was standing there, half naked. A pair of black,

silk panties clinging to wide, motherly hips. It was so snugly fit to the muscled 'V' of her hips as she stood with her arms folded

in front of her mirror. Quietly humming to herself, as she waved the two over. Each of them were speechless, their jaws slightly

slacked with what they were witnessing. "Tell me, one of you, either of you? How do I look? Did the battle leave a touch of scarring,

or did it not leave a single mark at all."


Lissandra of course only asked this, due to her utterly -ravenous- behavior when the mood had called for it. She soaked up

attention, as well as warmth as if she were some sort of sponge. She knew she had looked quite wondrous, enough had told

her verbally, through touch in that precious Inn. Her 7'3" figure was unmarred by any sort of scarring, nor blemishes upon her

entire body. Soft, sleek skin mirrored this. Her flesh was a soft, cream-coloured blue. A touch darker than the sky, during

wintertime. Broadened shoulders led down to thinner, fit arms. She in no-way held a 'thin' frame, she was as buxom as they

came. Heavy, supple breasts (which she proudly boasted as a fine, soft 44E/DDD cup. Quite nice, in a 7'3" frame. A giant, to

many humans.) Below her buxom 'assets' lay a smooth, muscled abdomen. The light 'dip' between her athletic waistline --

and those deliciously wide hips. She looked much like a mother, a matron. Thick, cooled thighs that could easily smother,

give one wicked bruises had she chosen to bounce upon one's lap. Mmf. If this was not bad enough, those legs seemed to

stretch to the heavens. Carrying her taller frame with ease. One lovely asset to another, anyone gracious enough to take a

glance at her rear would see it was just as full, plush as her hips were. The gentle slope of her ass hidden by the tightness of

the thin panty. Always the wicked tease, this one. Each of them stammered for words, with the male appearing to

even tighten his legs up. His eyes haplessly locked upon the slowly swaying breasts.



"Come here, Teija. You sound as if you are stammering. Stand in front of me." The command was followed quietly, as a

beautiful, rose-red blush dawned upon his cheeks. Utterly adorable. He stood in front of her, standing perfectly still, perfectly

upright. Sweating bullets, in such an icy chamber. What he felt next, was those soft, mushy breasts slowly press into the back

of his head. He was one of the smaller staff in her keep. Allowing him to be quite the fun 'cuddle-toy' for her Handmaidens.

The Royal Guard, as well as herself. Hardly mis-treated -- he was too precious for that. She leaned down just a touch, letting

those buxom breasts press snug into his warmed hair. "Tell me how I look. You are the most trustworthy in this manner. With

myself, or your fellow Maidens." By the Watchers, she could almost picture it. His warmed, pink member snug between her lips, her breasts as she slowly,

sensually stroked every sweetened drop of seed from his body. It made the pressure welling within her show itself, caused the

Frostguardian Ruler to -bite- upon that plump lower lip. Utterly aroused by the sexual fear she brought to him, even more so

as the young man trembled under her fearsome gaze. Blind as she was, those empty, grey eyes were quite the sight.

Valdriel was off to the side, trying her best not to giggle at just what she was witnessing. He was utterly precious.

Watching Lissandra have quite the fun time with him merely made it /that/ much better.


Valdriel had been in the same position once before, it was utterly wonderful to watch another squirm, stammer away with

their words, actions. The Lady simply held that kind of intimidating presence. "I think you may have robbed him of his vocabulary, Lissandra."

"I think I may have done just that, why don't you head off for a while, Valdriel. I need to get a dress or two, let him dress me

for a get-together tonight, at that Tavern." The Maiden slowly bowed her head, desperately trying not to giggle at the utter look

of horror upon Teija's face as he -stared- at Valdriel. No. No no no. Don't leave him. Please don't leave him.

The woman merely turned, trying not to crack a smile as she headed for the opened chamber door.

Just as Lissandra had gently wriggled her bosom against the back of his head. Letting the warmth slowly,

sensually soak into her skin. That was quite the lovely feeling- it always was. Out of his

sight, behind closed doors, one of her nimble hands had trailed right down the 'V' of her hips. Slipping inside of her

undergarments, -rubbing- over the soft, slick flesh of her sex. It was no surprise she had grown slick. A hushed, soft purr was

curled into Teija's ears. She sensually dipped one, two fingers into her own flesh. -Spreading- herself apart with an utter purr

of delight. Letting him listen to the sweet, slick sounds of her fingers toying with herself.

"That sound you are hearing, is you clearing up your timetable for the rest of the evening. So many have been able to play

with you, yet I have not. I intend to change that."

[/color][/collapse][color=blue][collapse=OoC Notes]
    [color=white]
    Alright! So here, shall rest my OOC notes.

    [b]On Non-Canon League RP:[/b] This is a little iffy for me, but then again it is do-able just as well.

    [b]Notes on Fetishes:[/b] Nothing is set in stone, except certain things. Shemale, Futa, Herm is a grey area for me. It can be

    enjoyed at times, but at other moments there's nothing I would want to do with the idea. It's nothing personal with those

    behind the keys -- it's merely a personal preference. If this does indeed rustle your jimmies, I soundly apologize for your

    arrogance.

    [b] Messages of "Hey sweetie."[/b]Since you decided to take this route, instead of offering more than a 'hello' -- Get bent.

    You shall be met with silence, bring something little more than that to the table. Don't leave it to me to figure out what you

    want, please. I am a very reasonable person (unless I am actually in a foul mood, then the patience can wain easier. :<) and

    can accommodate times, kinks, the works, but try to bring /something./

    [b] Passive Aggressiveness. [/b] This should not need to be explained. If I am on the receiving end of this, I am not going to

    be happy with you. Regardless of reason. Be a man/woman/it. Tell me what is on your mind.
    [/color]
    [/collapse][/color][color=cyan][collapse=Relationships]
    [icon]Artisan of Bread[/icon]
    [color=white]Always the wonderful baker. So very tender, -- especially when at the right temperature. I have known him the longest. He knows my assets well. Devious little shaper of pastry he is.[/color][hr][icon]Njola Longshadow[/icon]
    [color=white]One of my favorite Handmaidens. A wonderful woman who's devotion knows no ends. A cherished soul.[/color][hr][icon]Dragons Rage[/icon]
    [color=white]The first of the Draconic maidens I had come to know. Quite the delicious creature.[/color][hr][icon]Ice Dervish[/icon]
    [color=white]I know not where this doppelganger of mine came from, what universe someone plucked her from-- but I have always wanted to have a bit of tea with myself. Quite the charming time."[/color][hr][icon]Prince Jarvan[/icon]
    [color=white]"A big head, a big mouth- but, oh. He quiets down if one loosens their robes. There is nothing quite cooling a vat of hot air with a soft, chilled breath.[/color][hr][icon]Debonair-Ezreal[/icon]
    [color=white]Ahhhh.. the curious explorer. What whimiscal, fun company he was. One of the few able to drew a giggle from myself. A true charmer.[/color] [hr]
    [/collapse][/color][color=blue][collapse=Azeroth's Universe]
    [color=white]The Dread Ice Witch had found herself in another plane. The consciousness of a ruler split from her natural, Runeterran body.

    Whisked away to another plane, where her work could be completed without -- vile Champions getting in her way. The

    consciousness locked itself on a tribe of Frost Vrykul. Perhaps a once proud people, now succumbed to the losses of the

    Lich King's influence, as well of the murder of thousands of their own people. An act committed by many an Alliance, Horde

    adventurer. To Lissandra, those people needed reigning in. She'd slipped into the consciousness of their Queen, murdering

    the true 'leader'. Shape-shifting her form with a bit of devious magic, in order to become Queen in her own right. As was on

    Runeterra.

    With her seat upon another throne at long last, her work could continue. The Lady of the Frost, as fellow tribesmen, women

    would call her, certainly looked the part of a leader. She was certainly tall, that was for sure. Resting at about the 7'5" height

    one would expect from one of the normal 'giants.' The tribe, nestled within the vast, frozen plains of the Storm Peaks, had

    been rescued from the Lich King's influence. Instead, finding her own. This would be noted, had any adventurer wished to

    brave into those lands. The blight pools were gone, the blighted drakes had vanished, they were focused upon rebuilding their

    people. While she was a fair ruler in matters of state, when crossed, a bit of the Ice Witch's fury would slip forward. Those

    dissident, were impaled upon spires of twisted, black ice.

    Her powers, were that of a mighty Runeweaver. Blessed with command over twisted, black ice that reeked with her

    corruption. Able to shape-shift herself to appear as another being entirely, to hide her form. Her more permanent body, is

    eerily similar to those of a Frost Vrykul. She would still go by her given name, Lissandra, but with a much different body

    involved. A body she was rather proud of.

    The 'Vrykul' appeared much in the same way any of her tribe would. Although, the woman had a much more refined tone to

    her body. A little more lithe than her muscle-bound compatriots, but she was still rather lithe, compared to others. A smooth,

    sleek body rather than one bound with muscle. Her curves were immaculate, almost matron-like. Heavy 44 DD breasts

    rested snug within any attire she'd usually wear. Uncomfortable in thick armor, she much preferred the comfort of robes

    rather than anything really 'heavy.' For her hips, gods, they would be enough to make even a -Draenei- jealous. Thick,

    child-bearing. With a lovely roundness to them, cupping a rather plush rear just as well. Finely rounded, but my, was it plush.

    With her 7'5" frame, her legs were telling of a woman of her size. Strong, yet sleek. The muscle hidden beneath smooth,

    baby-blue skin. Her facial features, were that of a proper noblewoman. A sharp change, from the usual large jawline. This

    Vrykul in particular, while still having the height of the race, did not look the 'average'. Her jaw was rather sleek, curved,

    rather than the downward 'V' that most seemed to posses in her tribe.

    On most days, the woman enjoys -trying- to make attempts at socialization with the other races. Learning of their history,

    posing as one of their own. At least without being made, of course. She'd normally spend time within a neutral tavern, filled

    with various Azerothian denizens. The perfect subjects to learn about the culture, try to understand where she had gone to.

    Why not try to have a bit of fun along the way. Still in control of a fair portion of her magics.[/color]
    [/collapse][/color][color=cyan][collapse= Riot Lore]
    [color=white]Lissandra's magic twists the pure power of ice into

    something dark and terrible. With the force of her black ice, she does more than freeze – she impales and crushes those who

    oppose her. To the terrified denizens of the north, she is known only as "The Ice Witch". The truth is much more sinister:

    Lissandra is a corrupter of nature who plots to unleash an ice age on the world.
    Centuries ago, Lissandra betrayed her tribe to evil creatures, known as the Frozen Watchers, in return for power. That was

    the last day that warm blood ran through her veins. With her corrupted tribesmen and the strength of the Watchers, she swept

    across the land like a terrible blizzard. As her empire spread, the world grew colder and ice choked the land. When the

    Watchers were defeated by ancient heroes, Lissandra did not lose faith and swore to prepare the world for their return.

    Lissandra worked to purge all knowledge of the Watchers from the world. Using magic to take human form, she

    masqueraded as numerous seers and elders. Over the course of generations, she rewrote the stories of the Freljord, and so

    the history of its people changed. Today the fragmented retellings of the Watchers are seen as children's tales. But this

    deception wasn't enough – Lissandra also needed an army.

    She set her sights on the noble Frostguard tribe. Lissandra knew corrupting the Frostguard would take centuries, and so she

    launched her greatest deception. She murdered and stole the identity of the Frostguard leader. Then she slowly began to

    warp the tribe's proud traditions. When her human form grew old, she faked her own death and then murdered her successor

    to steal her identity. With each generation, the Frostguard grew more insular, cruel and twisted. Today, the world still sees

    them as a noble and peaceful tribe that guards against evil creatures like the Ice Witch. In truth, they now serve the witch and

    long for the glorious return of the Watchers.

    Lissandra knows that on that day nations will fall and the world will be reborn in ice.[/color]

    [/collapse][/color]

    [hr]