Azazel

[Azazel]

Azazel Race: Human Gender: Male Age: 19 Birthday: 21st of Summer, 494 AV Birthplace: Sunberth Religion: Ivak Languages Fluent: Common Basic: None Poor: None Physical Information Height: 6'1'' Weight: 190 lbs. Body Type: Lean/Muscular/Athletic Eye Color: Grey Hair Color: Black Markings: Some scattered scarring Gnosis of Ivak OOC:Pending approval. Appearance Azazel is an intimidating guy upon first glance. His skin is tanned naturally and his eyes are a deep, unsettling sort of grey. Smokey and smoldering like an ill kept flame. It's almost impossible to penetrate them with a simple glare, making one wonder if he has a soul at all. Jawbones and chin are strong and stone-like by default. Not only is he tall, he is built like a gladiator. A finely sculpted work of art, Azazel is crafted purely with lean muscle that he takes pride in. Chiseled marble carved by a meticulous artist. Most of which he has earned through hard manual labor growing up, though he's refined it through combat. He is built for power but surprisingly he's quite agile and explosive. All of which he will capitalize in battle. Personality Upon first meeting, Azazel comes across as a calm individual. A cool kind of guy who will speak little most of the time. Instead of flashy and boisterous he enjoys sitting back in the corner, observing his environment. A fly on the wall. Yet that fly soaks in what he gathers and stores it all deep within his brain, unlikely to be forgotten. He is a man who pays attention to the details. Often obscured one might assume he's a cold person in general, but it's quite the opposite. Azazel is a burning entity struggling to keep himself at bay and maintain absolute control. What people do manage to grow on him will find themselves almost sheltered by him somewhat. For those people, he will do sinful deeds to protect those he has affections for. Any who seem hostile or challenging toward his friends will receive more than unfortunate bruising. Don't get him wrong. Azazel values hands on learning himself and will usually allow those around him to be taught lessons through their own experiences. Live and learn. More often than not, he's a very loyal guy, almost to a fault. When he feels comfortable or unrestricted many will find he's pretty likable in general. Charismatic with a gentle darkness combined with a winning smile. Sunberth contributed a lot to him during his childhood. Molding him in a chaotic blaze that is the source of his inner darkness. Despite his pride in his physique, he seems to pay little mind to it. Azazel wouldn't be labeled a tool if he had anything to say about it. Oddly enough, Azazel feels the need for leadership. Not to possess it, but to follow someone with authority. Someone who can provide him with a purpose. Sadly, this trait may lead him to become involved with immoral trades and associates. Especially crime syndicates in Sunberth such as the Night Eyes. Psychology Contrary to most people's first impression, Azazel is quite a complicated character. Beneath his soft, smoldering eyes the man of bronze is very much a lost soul wandering the world of Mizahar. He does not see opportunity and unity beyond the gateless city of chaos that raised him. All those grey eyes see are crumbling families, homicide, poverty, and war. War within the streets between gangs and syndicates as often as civilians taking advantage of the weakness of a neighbor. Azazel has seen too many blades jammed into a friend's back to believe there exists a world without bloodied streets. Sure, he knew about the existence of Syliras, the wretched city oppressed by the Knighthood and those powerful enough to earn politic clout. That world he wants no part in. No authority, no restrictions and limitations. He wishes to be his own man, whatever that is exactly. Whether it be a sellsword, slaver, or drug dealer. He is virtually a blank page without direction but deep within his subconscious lies an undeniable need to be guided. Like a horse lead to water, Azazel will inadvertently search for someone to give him purpose. That individual could easily be whoever presents opportunity first, local syndicate or a random passerby in the street. The most obscured bit of Azazel is exactly how his mind operates. Like a puzzle, he will take every single piece he finds and fit them together before looking at the big picture. If the image doesn't seem just right he would quickly backtrack and rearrange his information. If the stone-like man cannot find the answer, he'll seek out someone who can. For the most part, he will see the world in a rational light. Mind over matter, head before heart in majority of cases. Every decision is vital so he takes his time to make the right one when he can. If not, he'll simply swing his sword and how he rises victorious. That said, Azazel knows the difference between careful thought and fatal hesitation. Maybe a sure sign of his silence though maybe that is contributed by something more severe. Where he really becomes complex is how he feels. Contrary to his current state, Azazel was an incredibly hostile and aggressive entity. Baptized in fire by anarchy and chaos, Azazel was born to bear a heavy cross. His father was abusive and his mother was detached, creating a deep tear in his emotional development. Caught between a world of pain and suffering, and one of love and a protective instinct for the weak. With his beatings came the anger, the hot-headed behavior and the short fuse. It was frequent for him to snap while he did travel outside his broken home. Several times he'd savagely beat a challenger in the street as a child, sometimes almost to death. Quickly he became troublesome and very much a rebel without a cause. Possessing an anger found deep within his bones. Through his fiery outbursts he wrecked havoc in the lives of those too close to his violent transformation. One of those incidents brought him to an understanding he could not live the way he had. He needed to rise above his environment and more importantly himself. Everyday he worked. Getting stronger and more mentally hardened than the abuses he endured. He worked out constantly to channel his agony and fury, manifesting his inner ferocity in a more physical display. None of that turned out to be enough to quell the volcano that laid within him. It seemed that he was truly like the planet itself. A stoney, strong surface with a depthless pool of magma beneath. Pressure building along fault lines, itching to burst with atrocious repercussions. Purely by chance he heard the tale of the Valterrian. The story of Ivak's wrath upon the world. It captivated him quite honestly, and instantly he found a connection with the god of fire, volcanism, and emotional upheaval. Through reverence to the infamous deity, Azazel has found an way to anchor himself. Let The Flames Begin... Born in Sunberth, Azazel has known nothing beside the anarchist society he was raised in. His father was like the devil himself. A brutal man he soon discovered wasn't his biological father at all. Just some ruthless and oppressive replacement his mother had picked up along the way. He doesn't know much about his actual father, mostly because he's been too preoccupied with the abusive substitute whose beating are far more real. Punishments were just reserved for severe impudence. Azazel faced his father's wrath for everything ranging from disobedience to inability to complete more mature tasks than his age could handle. Frequently the assaults were just a sadistic way to pass the time. His mother on the other hand is a faded spirit. Once lively and zealous, an unfamiliar illness struck her when he was not yet a teenager. Ever since she's been detached from reality and pale. Blind and deaf to her son's suffering. From the moment he lost the joyful part of his mother, Azazel had been protective of her. Affectionate and caring for her unspoken needs. Always remembering to offer her food when many times she'd forget to eat herself. Luckily, it was very rare his father's anger was directed her way. Anything about her that grinded his gears was aimed only at her son. Tragedy had always followed his family. Azazel was the middle child of their household. The eldest were a girl and a boy: Elvira and Xaine. The youngest were twin girls named Dreina and Nellie. There were supposed to be six children but the expected youngest, a son named Holden, died shortly after birth. An event that Azazel sometimes suspected caused his mother's decline in health though it happened a year or two later. Upon maturity, both old siblings left the household on their own terms. Elvira was suspected to have gone to study in Zeltiva based on her natural wits while Xaine is rumored to have joined one of the syndicates. Another conflicting rumor about his brother's whereabouts may be more likely, which claims he entered a partnership and became a slaver. Unfortunately, the remaining three weren't so lucky. During one of Azazel's stints, he had lost his temper and went off on a group of amateur gangsters in a bloody fistfight. Meanwhile, his younger twin sisters had decided to play in the streets. With no parental guidance present, the children were caught unaware and unprotected during the onslaught. Or so he believes. Bloodied and bruised, Azazel was out most of the dangerous night searching for his sisters. All he found was a shoddy doll and a loose, red hair ribbon that Nellie had loved to wear. Azazel feels personally responsible for that night as he was the only one around who should have watched out for them. He was their big brother and he allowed them to fall into harm's way. Their blood is on his hands. This pivotal moment is what moves him to seek control to earn focus. From The Ashes Come Embers... Considering his lost twin sisters were the only thing one would argue their father actually held affections for, it's safe to say he was irate. Coming home that night was equal to condemning himself to the deepest fiery abyss imaginable. His father would gut him as soon as he passed through the doorway. Yet, Azazel was a man and needed to prove that through confidence and honor despite his serious mistake. Needless to say it was a nightmare. How many pieces of furniture he was hurled into, he couldn't even begin to count. The teenager's blows dented walls and snapped tables and chairs on impact. He could take it as he had every other time, but this one? This time was different. Punches rained down on him like hammers, battering through his muscles and bruising the thick tissue ruthlessly. It was worse than anything he'd been dealt with before. That's when he snapped, sending his father right on his ass with a sucker punch. A brawl ensued, but the more experienced of the two won and Azazel laid unconscious. His father punished his rebellion by not just banishing him from the household, but trading him off to a sadistic form of entertainment. Deep within the basement of some sort of decrepit building, Azazel was tortured and beaten. Stored without much subsistence. Only enough to survive. One night he woke up chained to a wall. That particular room was surprisingly circular and around he he saw other men and a woman in the same situation. There were an even number of captives including him, and quickly they found out they were pawns in a twisted game. They seemed to be paired somehow as spread out as they were, almost like teams of two. As their partner raced forward to claim a weapon and food in the center everyone craved, their partner was forced closer to the wall. It was a fight to the death and only the winner was permitted to be released. A solution to unruly locals. At the end, Azazel did come out undefeated though by the means he achieved freedom were in no way honorable. That was the first day he learned there were no rules to survival. You win or you die. I Am The Flame, I Am The Spark... Cast permanently from his home, Azazel takes what few belongings he has and makes a final decision to keep away from his own home. Staying in Sunberth for some time earning Mizas through illicit activities to get by, Azazel strives for something he hasn't yet found for himself. A niche. With no concrete path he hung around his old neighborhood for a time. Trying to look out for his sick mother to make sure she was alright. Finally, Azazel worked the nerve up to enter his old house when his father wasn't around to meet with his mother. That day she was fully aware and seemed to be almost temporarily cured of her ailment. During that time she urged him to escape the world of pain there in hopes he'd make something of himself. Whatever he chose. Before he left, she gifted him with a long, black leather trench coat with patterns down the inner flaps. According to her, it was a treasured belonging of his father. Something to safe guard him in the night. With that he departed to begin the next chapter of his life. Statistics and Possessions Heirloom: Father's Black Leather Trench Coat Possessions : Father's Black Leather Trench Coat Short Sword Cotton Vest Wool Pants Shoes 1 Waterskin 1 Backpack (Includes the following below) -1 Set of Toiletries (comb, brush, razor, soap) -Food for a week or 1 bottle of embalming fluid (for Nuits) -1 eating knife -Flint & Steel Short Sword Ledger Purchase Cost Total Starting +100 Gold Mizas 100 Gold Mizas Short Sword -10 Gold Mizas 90 Gold Mizas Lores Lore of The Night Eyes Lore of Sunberth Street Layout Skills Skill EXP Total Proficiency Unarmed Combat 26 SP 26 Competent Weapon: Sword 11 SP, 15 RB 26 Competent Intimidation 7 SP 7 Novice Body Building 6 SP 6 Novice Housing Currently in the Sunset Quarter Thread List : None Yet