Country Affiliation: Magnostadt
Race: Magician
Tier: D
Class: Magician/Heat
Age + Birthdate: 16/August-12
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Personality:
Likes:Azazel is at his core ambitious! He desires not only to complete a dungeon but to become a great and powerful Magician, even to the level of a Sage with a mastery in all eight magic classes. He is a calm, forward thinking individual who has his own desires, he respects those who have earned power but is no one's lackey. He hungers to gain prestige and to move up far in the world, maybe even take over the city of mages himself.
Unlike some in the Magic city, Azazel is all for crushing the other nations, he has heard how humans and others had used his kind for their own selfish gains and treated them like trash. He has a very cold side that comes out when faced with an adversary. He is not one to shy from killing if he needs to and can be very direct when he desires.
Azazel has a love for magic that runs to his core, his desires are based around the love of magic and the personal ambition to learn all eight forms of magic. Often he can be found training or exploring magic to the depths of it's capabilities. He can spend days, weeks even studying a spell or a field of magic. Delving into the intricacies of the core of the magical world itself.
In most situations he is calm, controlled, and level headed. He considers himself a strategist and a tactician, always playing some kind of game. Rarely is he taken by surprise and when he is he is quick to recover. When meeting new people he is respectful, referring to women as Lady and than their name. He is a studious young man, with a desire for knowledge that drinks up information like a sponge. Not just books and maps but information on people, places, some information he can use to go higher in the world.
Azazel's ambition seems to have no bounds, he isn't one to shake away from dubious means if necessary and seems to enjoy playing shadow games. He hungers not only for power but to one day claim a Djinn of his own. However while he can be crafty and sometimes shady he is in essence a good person. He seeks to gain power to protect his beloved city and all it's mages inside it.
Dislikes: Spiders: Azazel hates spiders and spider monsters, finding them to be creepy.
Cowards: Azazel hates cowards who act strong, in fact he finds it gratifying to make them show their true nature.
Pompous people: Finally he despises anyone who treats others badly because of their rank. He finds such beings detestable and should be removed immediately.
Aspirations: Dungeon: Azazel desires to capture a dungeon and the djinn inside.
Sage: Second, he wishes to learn all eight forms of magic and rise to the level of a Sage, mastering magic completely.
Protect himself: Finally his last aspiration is to become so powerful he can destroy anyone who would attack him
Phobias/fears: Complete failure: Nothing is more fearful to Azazel than failing all together, not reaching any of his goals or desires, failing at magic, ambition, and goals.
Face-Claim:Shiroe/Log Horizon
Hair Color: Dark blue
Eye Color: Crystal Blue
Height: 6'0
Weight: 220 lbs
Appearance: Azazel stands at a lean six feet in height, he has Caucasian skin with dark blue hair that hangs down just above his eyes. He has a lean muscular physique that goes well with his crystal blue eyes. He is often found wearing robes of red with a black cloth shirt under it and billowy cloth pants. He has a pair of full moon shaped glasses he always wears.
Azazel has a straight back stance, often coming off as serious or cold. He walks with purpose and sits straight back whether it be a chair, a rock, or a stump. A man of Poise and confidence.
Rukh Alignment: White
Special Features:
History:Azazel was born in a small village to a pair of sheep farmers far to the west of Magnostadt, the third son of the family, he was scrawnier and physically weaker than his brothers, as much as he tried he never seemed to be as fast or as strong as his siblings, however when it came to intelligence he could outwit his brothers at every turn.
As he got older he began noticing little changes about himself, he never felt cold for one, he found himself drawn to fire and the spark of life, at the age of ten his father decided he should be trained to fight like his brothers. They used blunt swords in training, during the first spar, Azazel slipped and his brothers sword would have smashed directly into his face if not for a twist of fate.
That day in real danger, Azazel's Borg activated, creating a light shield that blocked the sword from crushing the boy's nose. To say everyone was stunned was a understatement. His oldest brother stood with jaw hanging down, his older brother who held the sword stumbled back and fell while his dad just stared without saying a word. Once the threat ended his Borg vanished.
As a young man Azazel looked to his father for answers and guidance only to find none there. His father taking a wild guess said it was most likely magic. Luckily for the family the village head had been involved with magicians in his life time and was able to tell the family that there son was indeed blessed by magic. This lit a fire inside Azazel! Finally he was something besides the weakest son, he had a talent after all, now to find out everything about it.
He started with the elder, asking questions of the man who seemed quite knowledgeable about the art, Azazel found that the man's cousin had also been a Magician but had died protecting the village years ago. From him, Azazel was able to learn a bit about the theory of magic. Armed with some knowledge and a desire to understand himself, Azazel found a empty clearing to practice in where no one could see or get hurt.
From there he spent hours when not helping with his duties on the farm, training in magic. He first wanted to see if he could make that light barrier appear again and to do this he ran really fast as stuff. And yes, every time before he hit a wall or a tree or fell from a high spot, his Borg would activate protecting him. He would invite his brothers to throw rocks at him or hit it with a stick to see what would happen, he noticed the more damage it took that cracks began to form but would go away once he stopped needing it.
Onto his magic this took a little longer to figure out as he wasn't sure how one used magic. Well when one didn't know it was best to experiment. Standing in the field he made up magical words, throwing his hands forward with no effect happening. Azazel began to question if he had any magical talent besides just the light barrier around him, maybe he was just as bad at magic as he was of everything else.
However it seemed fate was on his side, while out with the sheep, they were attacked by a pack of coyotes bent on claiming one of the younger ewes for supper. Azazel ran towards the pack, fear and anger burning inside him, fear of not making it in time, anger at the cowardly behavior of the animals. In a last ditch effort to save the small sheep, Azazel was about to throw his crook when he felt something, a impossible to describe feeling over took him and letting out a roar, a ball of fire appeared at the end of his Crook and launched at the Coyotes. It hit the lead animal, causing it to burst into flames and run away, rolling in the grass till the fire was put out.
It was hard to say who was more surprised, the coyotes or Azazel, he gazed at his Crook, the one he had picked up every day since he started, the crook he always felt was lucky to him. It had been made from a branch of the old oak tree that rested on the family farm for centuries, it always felt tied to the land and to the family.
Azazel called upon that feeling again and well like magic a ball of fire formed at the end, this time, Azazel took aim and launched it, smashing into another coyote. Now that he knew what he had been missing and felt foolish now he considered it. All great Mages in stories had a staff, duh! His village chief even mentioned that his magician cousin had a staff.
The Coyotes had learned their lesson and took off, leaving the sheep alone. Now, Azazel had learned how to summon his magic he needed to learn more about it. As the years passed Azazel learned about his magic but only the basics, it wasn't until a mage passing through the town that Azazel would learn of the magic city and where his destiny lay. So, at the age of sixteen he packed up some clothes and food, some camping equipment and headed for the city of Magnostadt
Role-Play Sample:Franklin turned his gaze to the sky as fireworks began erupting one after the other, after a full minute he turned to the beautiful teen dressed in a cheerleading outfit he had been speaking to. He had won her a stuffed bear and was now onto talking about hitting some rides and going to the movies next weekend. So far, she seemed really into the idea. As he talked, he spotted quite a famous super hero out of the corner of his eye. Peter Parker, Spiderman himself. Interesting to see Spidey so far away from his web.
However it wasn't much of a surprise, a lot of people had been invited, many from the mutant community of Krakoa, another location he desired to visit now that he had some freedom of movement. He didn't want to stay permanently but it would be a interesting place to visit and learn more about the whole mutant heritage thing. Franklin knew he classified as a mutant, his parents he wasn't sure of. Super Humans, accidents, abominations? Hero was the word Franklin would use, especially his mom who was a perfect hero!
As he flirted he thought on that, how much Norman Osborn had taken from his family, how much pain he had brought on those who knew his family causing them to abandon the Richards when they needed a friend the most. How many other families of mutants and supers were being persecuted and left alone with nowhere to turn because of Norman Osborn? Who was he anyway? A pompous human who hated those he could not control. He wanted to stop people from using powers? Let's see how he liked this!
Franklin lifted his arm, the Cheerleader's number no longer on his mind. In fact he had a cold rage in the center of his being. He needed to remind the world just what they were dealing with if you crossed the Richard family. Energy gathered in the hand of the fifteen year old in the form of pure light, glowing as bright as a stadium spot light, he lifted his right index finger and fired a beam of pure energy into the sky, the fireworks were instantly erased, the darkness lit up like it was noon in Texas. The explosion that followed shattered windows, shook the docks, and caused the waves to lift and splash onto the boardwalk. In that one moment of defiance, Franklin Richard put Norman Osborn on notice!
