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    1. Morric 11 yrs ago

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"A nightmare is nothing but the darkness in your soul speaking to you. Do not cower. Just listen..."

Name - Azazel Blackwood

Age - 19

Appearance - Height: 6'2. Weight: 190 lbs. Hair color: Black. Eye color: Amber.

History - London, 1780. In the raging chaos of a riot that roiled through a high class catholic neighborhood, a newly born infant was taken from his cradle and stolen away. Blood was spilled before burning churches and broken homes and many died before the riot finally came to an end. In the days that followed, the Blackwood family desperately searched for their missing child, using their fair amount of wealth to hire eyes and ears. On the third day of the search, just when hope had faded, the young child was found. However what they found upon the infants recovery caused distress among the family. For when they found the child, he laid silently content, covered in blood on top of a stone pedestal. Beneath him, adorning strange ritualistic clothing, were the corpses of seven men, all having apparently taken their own lives with daggers made of bone and metal. With no witnesses or survivors accept for the baby, there was nobody to explain what had happened. However those involved all felt it was an unholy event.

Many years passed and the child was raised normally, despite the disturbing nature of what had happened. His parents decided on the name Azazel, after his great grandfather, who was brother to the first head of the family, as well as the only other known ancestor to have amber eyes. Raised by many, taught by scholars, and trained by nobles, Azazel spent his youth being molded into a proper gentleman and a potential leader for the house of Blackwood. All up until the day the darkness within him awoke. For on the night of his sixteenth birthday, something was born from the shadow that followed young Azazel. Something that lashed out in his dreams and ripped its way from his mind into reality, bringing the walls of his bedroom down in a shattering explosion of dark force. With each day that followed, Azazel found himself experiencing more manifestations of this strange force, watching as the shadows of the trees and buildings bent and shook to his will. It bewildered him. But what he saw as a mystery, others saw as evil. As it was, a handful of rumors circled between the older of the families that the child was tainted with the soul of a demon by those that took him. These rumors stayed few and far between until Azazel was spotted with the dark silhouette of a shadow dancing at his fingertips. Before long, word spread, and Azazel ended up on the run. His family turned their back on him and his community hunted him.

In order to survive, Azazel embraced his powers, and concealed himself, keeping to the shadows and living off stolen goods. At nineteen, Azazel returned to his estate. Though he had been gone, he was not forgotten, and most certainly not welcomed. However those that had cast him out a time ago quickly fell before the horrific darkness that had been honed and strengthened over the years. By the time he was done, having visited those that wronged him, the only Blackwood to remain was himself. The wealth of the house became his inheritance and the property became closed off. Centuries have come and gone while history has become myth, yet the Blackwood estate has remained standing. Along side the many horror stories to leave it's gates, young Azazel has managed to survive and now, for whatever reason, has decided to seek out Deepwinter and the other proverbial freaks of the world.

Abilities - Dominion over Darkness: Azazel can empower any shadow and bend it to his will, allowing him to meld it into solid objects, weapons, structures, or familiars. He can even travel through the dark like a tunnel, moving from one shadow to another. The strength of this power wanes in the light and grows in its absence. Bright lights cause him pain when in direct contact with his skin or eyes.
Agelessness: With the passing of time, Azazel's physical appearance ceased to change. This began when his powers first awoke but didn't take full effect until just before his twentieth birthday, keeping him in the appearance of his adolescent self. Though he defies time, he will never know full adulthood, in spite of his continuously growing knowledge and maturity.

Affinity - TBR
The foul odor of death suddenly wafted into the air as the mysterious horror cast its breath into the air, approaching its prey. The smell drifted down wind and caught the attention of Azazel. His face twisted at the stench and he drew his hand across his nostrils. His other hand caressed the jeweled hilt of a concealed rapier. Something lurked in the brush, growing closer. It's decrepit breath smelled like that of a mad wolf gone man eater. Digesting human flesh fuming in it's gullet. But the guttural rumble of its ragged breathing resembled that of no earthly animal. Azazel spun around, his eyes following where his ears detected the sound. It was dark and difficult to see, but the slowly moving silhouette of a monstrous creature subtly came into view, passing overhead on creaking branches and rustling leaves. The thing appeared to have another interest, though who or what was beyond the cautions Azazel. He knelt down, staying silent, as the shadows that patterned the ground below him began to quiver and roil.
So we're in hell? Or just a alternate reality which mirrors earth in everything but the monsters?
A low rattle hissed out of the thicket as leaves brushed against each other, dancing in the ominous breeze. A cacophony of strange sounds echoed throughout the forest like a wild chorus. It all was carefully absorbed by Azazel as he pressed on into the forest, stepping over shrubs and through bushes. Despite the hallow darkness that surrounded him, The intense feeling of being watched still plagued him. "Is someone there?" He couldn't help but cast the occasional gaze over his shoulder. Had he looked more carefully, or perhaps had a light source, he might have seen the voodoo priestess lurking above in the canopy. However the night provided a most efficient camouflage in this wiry chaos of wood and leaves. Despite being a capable warrior, Azazel didn't have the senses for the wilderness. Alone or not, Azazel didn't want to end up as prey to some beast. He couldn't afford to stop or make himself known. So he simply continued his path, venturing deeper into the shadows.
Death

"As old as time, even older, and just as inevitable."



Age - Unknown

Personality - Dark sense of humor. Love of unhealthy foods. Good at games of chance. Minor superiority complex. Infinitely patient. Well mannered. Generally friendly. Quite deadly.
Bio - "There has yet to be a worthy human." Says a nonchalant Death as he twiddles a teaspoon between his gloved fingers. "I cannot simply fabricate a vessel. That's quite mundane."
Of the shadows that escaped Pandora's box, Death has yet to find what the others have; A human to host him. Instead he lives in between worlds, waiting for the proper soul to cross his path. Until then, he simply observes his other brothers and sisters as they find their bodies and orchestrate their actions.

Human - TBR
Radiant sparks sputtered into the darkness as a brilliant light streaked through the sky. Rumbling energy exploded in a flash as the light collided with the ground. As the dust settled, the silhouette of a mans sprawled across the ground became visible. Cautiousness slowly began to return to the man, his eyes fluttering open and peering up into the strangely ominous night sky. A soreness riddled Azazel's body, a pained grunt escaping him as he pulled himself up onto his knee. Shaking his head and rubbing his face, Azazel tried to clear the fog from his mind. A few incomplete memories came to him like short clips. The vision of himself sitting in a study within his estate came to mind. Reading some literature on the age of enlightenment with a cup of tea resting at his side. The same teacup that now laid empty on the ground next to it's saucer. The only other memories in his head are of blinding light and infernal shrieking.

Azazel reached down and picked up the porcelain cup and plate, placing them into a pocket inside his overcoat as he stumbled to his feet. Before he could recover any more of his memories, the eerie howls and distant roars of mysterious and horrible creatures blew through the forest. The bellowing sounds shook Azazel to attention. His eyes darted across the dark scenery as he began to contemplate where he was and how he had gotten here. More importantly, he couldn't help but wonder if he was not alone in this mysterious place. No matter which way he turned, he felt as if eyes watched him from every angle. Unsure of what direction to go, Azazel knew staying in one place wouldn't be very helpful to finding salvation if there was any. He had to get moving if he wanted to find any answers so he picked a direction and began cautiously and calmly walking across the field, making his way toward the tree line. The best bet would be finding a tree to climb or a hill to scale so he could get a better view of where he was.

"A nightmare is nothing but the darkness in your soul speaking to you. Do not cower. Just listen..."

Name - Azazel Blackwood

Age - 28

Appearance - Height: 6'2. Weight: 190 lbs. Hair color: Black. Eye color: Amber.

Bio - London, 1780. In the raging chaos of a riot that roiled through a high class catholic neighborhood, a newly born infant was taken from his cradle and stolen away. Blood was spilled before burning churches and broken homes and many died before the riot finally came to an end. In the days that followed, the Blackwood family desperately searched for their missing child, using their fair amount of wealth to hire eyes and ears. On the third day of the search, just when hope had faded, the young child was found. However what they found upon the infants recovery caused distress among the family. For when they found the child, he laid silently content, covered in blood on top of a stone pedestal. Beneath him, adorning strange ritualistic clothing, were the corpses of seven men, all having apparently taken their own lives with daggers made of bone and metal. With no witnesses or survivors accept for the baby, there was nobody to explain what had happened. However those involved all felt it was an unholy event.

Many years passed and the child was raised normally, despite the disturbing nature of what had happened. His parents decided on the name Azazel, after his great grandfather, who was brother to the first head of the family, as well as the only other known ancestor to have amber eyes. Raised by many, taught by scholars, and trained by nobles, Azazel spent his youth being molded into a proper gentleman and a potential leader for the house of Blackwood. All up until the day the darkness within him awoke. For on the night of his sixteenth birthday, something was born from the shadow that followed young Azazel. Something that lashed out in his dreams and ripped its way from his mind into reality, bringing the walls of his bedroom down in a shattering explosion of dark force. With each day that followed, Azazel found himself experiencing more manifestations of this strange force, watching as the shadows of the trees and buildings bent and shook to his will. It bewildered him. But what he saw as a mystery, others saw as evil. As it was, a handful of rumors circled between the older of the families that the child was tainted with the soul of a demon by those that took him. These rumors stayed few and far between until Azazel was spotted with the dark silhouette of a shadow dancing at his fingertips. Before long, word spread, and Azazel ended up on the run. His family turned their back on him and his community hunted him.

In order to survive, Azazel embraced his powers, and concealed himself, keeping to the shadows and living off stolen goods. In adulthood, Azazel returned to his estate. Though he had been gone, he was not forgotten, and most certainly not welcomed. However those that had cast him out a time ago quickly fell before the horrific darkness that had been honed and strengthened over the years. By the time he was done, having visited those that wronged him, the only Blackwood to remain was himself. The wealth of the house became his inheritance and the property became closed off. For the next few years leading to today, he lived on the vast estate as a hermit, keeping to himself. In his solitude, the public has called him many things. Murderer, demon, devil, vampire, monster. A few unfortunate souls have even sought him out for whatever means, be they to slay him or capture him. All met the same fate. The day Azazel found himself in this strange dimension, looking out onto the twisted landscape and hellish creatures, he felt no different. Having seen the evils of humanity throughout his growing up, it was easy to feel right at home.

Weapons - A jeweled rapier with a silver and gold imbued hilt and blessed runes down the edge of the blades. The sword was an heirloom mounted on the wall in one of the Blackwood estates many rooms, until the day Azazel removed it from it's perch for the reunion with his family.

Power - Manipulation of darkness. Azazel can empower any shadow and bend it to his will, allowing him to meld it into solid objects, weapons, or familiars. He can even travel through the dark as if it was like a tunnel, moving from one shadow to another. The amount strength of this power wanes in the light and grows in its absence.

Equipment - There was no known warning when coming to this place. Thus the only thing Azazel has on hand is a small porcelain plate and teacup. He would love to find some tea to use it with in this strange place.

Vices - A cigar or glass of scotch are a couple vices Azazel will help himself to on occasion. Azazel has yet to discover his fear. It used to be of dieing. But that has long passed. Not much scares a man with a lack of things to live for accept for the idea of survival itself.
Fascinating. I absolutely love the thread you have here. I hope there's room. What demons are available if any?
I totally missed that sin posted something in the bar...
Why don't you park people move to the bar?
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