Country Affiliation: Reim
Race: Fanalis
Tier: D-Tier [Novice]
Class: Warrior
Age + Birthdate: 18 (5/28)
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Personality:
Vulgarity is a true descriptor that categorizes his approach and speech. From the moment he could walk, the gladiator was nurtured by the epitome of punitive upbringing; his mannerisms reflect such a cruel background. He’s blunt, outspoken and cares little for the interpretation and opinions of others. From childhood, a sole directive was pounded into his frontal lobe—put on a show. Many care little for his safety or wellbeing, but rather how much revenue he could produce from each fight. Treated as nothing more than property despite the extermination of the slave trade in Reim, Azrael acts in accordance with his environment and portrays the role of the beast so many spectators believe him to be.
That being said, the Fanalis is far from unintelligent. How he chooses to demonstrate himself to others, and how he inwardly feels and think are polar opposites. Merely a rouse to keep his “masters” in place while pursuing his individual interests, Azrael applies a variation of reverse-psychology. Knowing fully how to manipulate the masses and those around him based on their carriage and personalities, the man exists without arousing suspicion, despite plotting several objectives and seeing them accomplished as end results.
Well-spoken at his own discretion and caring to an extent, Azrael wishes to see a better world, so others of his background or situation won’t feel the harsh realities he faced during his youth. He aligns himself with what’s not innately good or bad, but rather what feels right. In truth, its considered the purest form of good and he acts little within his own self-interest unless it aligns with the goals of the greater good he wishes to see to fruition.
Adversely due to his race, however, Azrael does feel a strong affection for combat. His peak of joviality and bliss is only ascertained when blades are crossed and shields collide.
Likes:
Combat: a nigh-innate feeling of complete euphony when met with conflict, Azrael has an unquenchable thirst for fighting. He loves it with a true passion.
Eating: Sustenance fuels his ability to carry out daily objectives and most importantly, fight. Plus trying a variety of different tastes and dishes excites the Fanalis.
Travel: A man still considered a neophyte to world-travel, Azrael wishes to see the world in its entirety, through his own eyes. He takes any chance to leave the Reim capital that he can.
Women: A Fanalis of adult age, Azrael has enjoyed he flesh of the opposite sex numerous times over. It doesn’t get old.
Dislikes:
Hardships: While necessarily for himself, Azrael detests seeing other suffering from the same strife that clouded his youth. He does what he can for others so long as his own needs are met first.
Failure: disciplined to perform at the highest level possible, gaining anything less then success ruins his mood.
Aspirations:
To change the world. Be it from the position of the King’s throne, or by a solider fighting for a just cause. Azrael has made the executive decision to lend his life to the world’s greater good without expectations of reparation. Every decision he makes forth will be to place himself in the most opportune position to guide the future into the light. The clear path or a more specific directive, however, hasn’t been met.
Phobias/fears:
Death comes naturally and poverty and strife are areas he knows all too well. Azrael’s truest fear, however, comes in the form of leaving this world before he could accomplish his task: failure. He can only rest peacefully knowing he left the planet in a better position—no matter how massive or minute---then where he found it. The Falanis would rather be pierced several times over and die bloody with his conscience intact and his dreams realize then live in a word deprived of something better.
Face-Claim: Renji Abarai [BLEACH]
Hair Color: Red
Eye Color: Crimson
Height: 185cm
Weight: 87kg
Appearance:
Despite the exacting and demanding nature of his current occupation, Azrael is the epitome of attractive. Characterized as “appealing,” the Falanis, like many of his kind fashions vivid red hair. His is maintained in a ponytail or released fully and is considered long, passing beneath his shoulders and down to his lower back at its lowest point. His body has healed from the myriad of wounds and injuries received over the years and features a chiseled, well-defined physique. His eyes, squinted naturally, are glamorized by a brilliant crimson that similarly colored to his hair as well. Tall and muscular, Azrael isn’t bulky, hosting moderate girth across, though his form is as robust as steel.
Rukh Alignment: White
Special Features: luminous glowing eyes and impressive tattoo art.
History:
- Expand:
- Azrael’s youth is shrouded in mystery. His arrival in Reim was by pure happenstance. Found alongside the countryside miles from the nearest true civilization, the boy was the sole survivor of an unjust massacre. His parents—both of Falanis descent—were slaughtered for non-compliance. A term used so inaccurately, in his direct instance, nonetheless, it meant not giving up their liberties. Their chemical and physical makeup were ideal for the expertise required of slaves. Expected to go quietly, the two fought ferociously, killing dozens before their vivacities were captured by unanticipated attacks from their southern verges. They were killed defending their child. Needless to say, there efforts were in vain assumingly.
Azrael was ultimately sought out and taken into a lesser slavery circuit consisting of ten or so “assets.” For several years following the incident he later deemed “the beginning of my end,” Azrael found his natural abilities being exploited. It started as backyard brawls. Other smaller units of human trafficking gathered and waged currency on the lives of their slaves. The amounts varied, though one fact was absolute: it never equated to the life lost.
A physical specimen completely different from the standard human, Azrael excelled, winning every match, though making an effort to sustain the lives of his opponents. The end results generally exacted punishment upon the boy as he was scolded and beaten for exposing “weakness” in his design. In truth, the boy even from a young age knew the value of living, and that was exposed to him by the untimely death of his parents. In some way, it was some rebellion or pressure applied to his capturer in attempts to substantiate his worth. In the end, however, it left him weak and without much rest, food and medical care.
As time continued to rally forward and the Falanis grew in age, so did he competition and win column. Finding the outskirts to be less profitable and sanitary, the slave trade would eventually make its way into the empire of Reim. Normally due to the new rule and the abolishment of slavery, actions were far from tolerant. The master of such a circuit, however, had brainwashed his cattle, forcing them to lie on his behalf, allowing them to work, and taking their payment as his own and giving them little to nothing. Azrael wasn’t so gullible.
Giving little to the indoctrination, Azrael acted in line, though on his own accord. Placed instantly into the coliseum for his talents as a fighter, the Falanis had won his first several- - though low-level fights—and gained some coinage. It wasn’t soon after that the circuit was exposed, disbanded and its leader, punished for unlawful actions against human life. The orchestrator of this deed, Azrael himself from the shadows.
Now a true freeman, Azrael knew nothing else. He remained a warrior of Reim’s entertainment and sovereignty. He would find his own way and develop a dogma and code to live by. Hopefully, this same code would save lives of similar situated individuals like himself.
- Expand:
- Four hours, twenty-seven minutes, thirte---fourteen seconds in counting.
That was the time he spent in the shadows. Stripped of all outside light, Azrael couldn’t even see the tint of his skin as his senses were completely dulled, filed down to their weakest points as nothingness and silence surrounded him save for the occasional chuckle of his chains as he moved.
For weeks, the inmates were subject to extreme treatments meant to induce cooperation. The mutant only knew such measures as torture. A former participant in war, he knew all too well the struggles and depths of inhumanity one would execute to achieve optimal results. Much like his former prisoners of war, Azrael found himself the victim of cruder attempts to stabilize the unstable. He wouldn’t go down fighting.
The more they poked, probed and slice, the harder he laughed and the stronger his smile remained. When he leaked blood, the employers of such an establishment found his saliva staining their sanitized clothing. Needless to say, the more he defied his oppressors, the harder they oppressed. He was a demon, and this was his hell. This was the hell for all demons like him—Flanais.
“Tch,” Wincing, Azrael retreated instinctively as total darkness was broken. Inch by inch, a measure of dense light penetrated small containment room the mutant found himself in before a modest open formed. Quickly he sighed, finding pigmentation slowly returning as his skin soaked in the artificial rays. While it wasn’t sufficient in nature, his body would make due, absorbing the light source’s residual radiation and empowering him to some extent. Slow to stand, the former marine found his form tossed from the cell into the pits of hellish cheering and dim lighting by a number of guards.
Standing a single meter from the room in which he exited, the Falanis looked around with lazy eyes. “So this is the Dog Pound,” He shackles removed, the door behind him instantly closed and another opened across from him. Partially nude (save for pants) and bruised all over, Azrael smiled knowing the intentions of this expansive cell and the inevitable figure to approach from the shadowed area across from him.
Last edited by Azrael Godfrey on 11/09/16, 09:26 pm; edited 1 time in total
