Post by Izzy on Apr 27, 2012 3:47:03 GMT -5
Name: Elijah, but he refuses to call himself anything other than Azrael.
Age: Real age unknown, looks to be in his twenties
Race: Reaper
Powers:
Spell casting: Like other reapers, Azrael is capable of casting a number of spells he has learned through chants. The spells that he has learned tend to be bigger in scale, as he desires a few large spells to a plethora of weak ones.
Weaknesses:
Attire: Without his robe or scythe, Azrael is all but unable to cast spells. Any spell he might try to cast with either fizzle out, or cost too much to be viable in combat.
Time and Energy: Every spell takes a certain amount of time and energy to cast. The more powerful the spell, the more it takes to cast.
Date of birth: Unknown
Home: Just outside of Jump City
Alliance: None, he makes it a point to be indiscriminate at possible, attacking any and all who get in his way.
Relationship: None
Appearance: Azrael has a sickly look to him. He skin is paler than what should be natural, his black hair is thin and brittle, and he has large dark bags under his eyes. He never goes without his robe and scythe, and he is seldom seen without a faint glow around him, a sign that he is performing some sort of magic, if minor.
Personality: Azrael is duty personified, then mixed with madness. Several touches of dark magic has changed him. Where there was once a man who did what he must, and kept his eye on the souls he was set to watch, there is now a dark shepherd, who almost takes pleasure in his killing, where other reapers feel sorrow. He never kills more than what he thinks is right, but sometimes the number is increased, though he doesn't seem to notice. Occasionally, he has a moment of clarity, where he will see what he is becoming, and watch in terror as he is helpless to stop it.
History: Azrael's parents died when he was small, and rather than being sent to an orphanage, he decided instead to try his luck on the streets. His odd sense of duty helped him little in the crime ridden world of the under city, and he struggled hard just to make it day by day.
One cold night, huddling for warmth in his rags, he was visited by a figure in a dark robe. The stranger offered power, and a chance to keep his world in the order he craved. The youth jumped at the opportunity, and before long, he was in training to become a reaper.
Through his 'career', he was tasked with guiding the souls of many humans, and a plethora of supernatural beings, to their final resting place when they died. He was exceptional at his task, and he calmed the souls of the dead, and subdued those who refused to meet their end with surprising efficiency, and with never one soul too many or too few taken.
That all changed during his first big battle, where he was gravely wounded. He limped away, victorious, when he felt a strange feeling coming from his scythe, as if one of his spells were begging to be cast. He obliged, and darkness spewed from his weapon, enveloping his wounds in inky blackness. The feeling was excruciating, as if his wounds were being set on fire, then covered with a slimy filth. However, when it was all over, his wounds were cured, and he was in fighting shape again.
Every time he used the shadow to heal himself, he became a little bit more vulnerable to further injuries, and a little bit more corrupted. In time, he became something of a demon, descending on those about to die, and ending them with little mercy. He never killed anybody not about to die, but the sorrow that he used to feel when he ended a life was gone, replaced by a euphoria.
As he is now, Azrael is mostly conquered by the darkness, his lawful side keeping himself from going berserk, though he can't keep himself from taking any opportunity to kill, even if it bends the rules a little. Occasionally, he will have a moment of clarity. His human side will break through momentarily, only to be pushed down again by the darkness.
Anything else: Tends to rant...a lot.
Code Word: Titans Forever...foolish, nothing lasts forever.
Age: Real age unknown, looks to be in his twenties
Race: Reaper
Powers:
Spell casting: Like other reapers, Azrael is capable of casting a number of spells he has learned through chants. The spells that he has learned tend to be bigger in scale, as he desires a few large spells to a plethora of weak ones.
Weaknesses:
Attire: Without his robe or scythe, Azrael is all but unable to cast spells. Any spell he might try to cast with either fizzle out, or cost too much to be viable in combat.
Time and Energy: Every spell takes a certain amount of time and energy to cast. The more powerful the spell, the more it takes to cast.
Date of birth: Unknown
Home: Just outside of Jump City
Alliance: None, he makes it a point to be indiscriminate at possible, attacking any and all who get in his way.
Relationship: None
Appearance: Azrael has a sickly look to him. He skin is paler than what should be natural, his black hair is thin and brittle, and he has large dark bags under his eyes. He never goes without his robe and scythe, and he is seldom seen without a faint glow around him, a sign that he is performing some sort of magic, if minor.
Personality: Azrael is duty personified, then mixed with madness. Several touches of dark magic has changed him. Where there was once a man who did what he must, and kept his eye on the souls he was set to watch, there is now a dark shepherd, who almost takes pleasure in his killing, where other reapers feel sorrow. He never kills more than what he thinks is right, but sometimes the number is increased, though he doesn't seem to notice. Occasionally, he has a moment of clarity, where he will see what he is becoming, and watch in terror as he is helpless to stop it.
History: Azrael's parents died when he was small, and rather than being sent to an orphanage, he decided instead to try his luck on the streets. His odd sense of duty helped him little in the crime ridden world of the under city, and he struggled hard just to make it day by day.
One cold night, huddling for warmth in his rags, he was visited by a figure in a dark robe. The stranger offered power, and a chance to keep his world in the order he craved. The youth jumped at the opportunity, and before long, he was in training to become a reaper.
Through his 'career', he was tasked with guiding the souls of many humans, and a plethora of supernatural beings, to their final resting place when they died. He was exceptional at his task, and he calmed the souls of the dead, and subdued those who refused to meet their end with surprising efficiency, and with never one soul too many or too few taken.
That all changed during his first big battle, where he was gravely wounded. He limped away, victorious, when he felt a strange feeling coming from his scythe, as if one of his spells were begging to be cast. He obliged, and darkness spewed from his weapon, enveloping his wounds in inky blackness. The feeling was excruciating, as if his wounds were being set on fire, then covered with a slimy filth. However, when it was all over, his wounds were cured, and he was in fighting shape again.
Every time he used the shadow to heal himself, he became a little bit more vulnerable to further injuries, and a little bit more corrupted. In time, he became something of a demon, descending on those about to die, and ending them with little mercy. He never killed anybody not about to die, but the sorrow that he used to feel when he ended a life was gone, replaced by a euphoria.
As he is now, Azrael is mostly conquered by the darkness, his lawful side keeping himself from going berserk, though he can't keep himself from taking any opportunity to kill, even if it bends the rules a little. Occasionally, he will have a moment of clarity. His human side will break through momentarily, only to be pushed down again by the darkness.
Anything else: Tends to rant...a lot.
Code Word: Titans Forever...foolish, nothing lasts forever.
