Azrael





Name: Azrael
Born: Unknown
Place of Birth: Shadowside
Species: Half-reska
Height: 5 ft 6 in
Weight: 150 lbs
Occupation: Exiled prisoner
Residence: Biryiet
Background: Murderer
Magical Aptitude: Midrange
Notable Features: Nose ring
Theme: Undecided


Likes: Crime, sex, domination, causing chaos, being a little asshole in general
Dislikes: Authority, being contained, his nasty little prison world


Charisma:      
Strength:       
Endurance:    
Intelligence:
Agility:           
Cruelty:         
Chaos:            









Azrael has a mean streak a mile wide and just as deep. Though not a physically imposing man, he has a means of carrying himself that will strike fear into the hearts of most. Not surprisingly, he wields violence like a tool. It's a means to get his way, to keep people in their place, and the ideal way to keep the world afraid of him. There are few things he despises more than being challenged, much less having his wrath restrained.

There was some fool of a man calling himself king who sought to do exactly this. There was a handsome price on Azrael's head, and for as flattering as that was, the idea of facing punishment for his crimes was entirely unpalatable. Azrael saw fit to eliminate the threat, and more importantly, to leave a message. He killed the king, believing the fear it earned would be enough to tamp down the threat of "consequence." He was mistaken. Rather, this was the final straw, and Azrael had simply marked himself as too unpredictable to be anywhere near a polite society.

He'd have preferred an execution, but he earned himself an exile. Though life in Shadowside was hardly comfortable even in a settled realm, the prison world of Biryiet was more hellacious than he could have ever anticipated. Azrael suddenly found himself trapped in a bitter, hostile realm, seemingly held together simply by its own fury. The only inhabitants were just as vicious and barbaric as he was. Worst of all, the other prisoners of Biryiet weren't afraid to cut him back down to size when he tried to throw his weight around. Azrael found himself in truly unbearable conditions.

Now, he festers in this lightning-scorched corpse of a realm, scavenging through the crystal spires for enough to eke out another day. With enemies on all sides, if Azrael wants to survive, it will take everything he's got. It makes for a vicious, animalistic existance, and the only reason Azrael endures it at all is under the sweet song of revenge. Revenge on his captors, revenge on the people who believed they could bind his will, and revenge on anyone who had the slightest hand in his exile.

He'll exact the blood toll he's owed, or he'll die trying.





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