Azazel Rev2

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Information

Player: Vorce

Character Full Name: Anarus Azazel Ashsinger

Character In-Game Name: Azazel

Association(s): The Horde, Silvermoon City, The Ebon Blade

Race: Sin'Dorei Blood Elf

Class: Death Knight

Age: 124

Sex: Male

Hair: Blonde in colour, his hair is short and naturally spiky with a small goatie.

Eyes: Dark Blue, lack of pupils or irises.

Weight: 162 lbs

Height: 6"2'

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Appearance

Often seen in partial combat gear even when performing relaxing and trivial activities, and would usually be wearing complete plate armour when danger is expected or when formality has to be observed.

Other:Anarus has a muscular build, a bit more refined than the typical Blood Elf body structure, naturally fit. His actions are always dictated by speed and efficiency, his movements punctuated with fluidity and grace. His always maintains an upright posture, resolute against the lethargy and fatigue that would sway most others. Head held high, he always walks with solid purposeful steps that seem to announce his presence. With a slightly low tone of voice, his words would usually lull a person to sleep or shroud the seriousness in his intent.

For Anarus, his weapon is like a literal extension of his arm. He doesn't go anywhere without a blade, which would be kept as close to him as possible, with the ability to be drawn at a moment's notice. His weapon of choice would be swords for its ability to keep up with his sharp and accurate movements. He usually wields a sword in each hand, preferring speed in his attacks over sheer force, but would resort to a massive two handed sword should the occasion call for it.

Personality

Anarus is a very cold-hearted character, uncaring for those who do not further his needs. He is very objective in nature, always placing duty before self. He would seek to fulfill his duty and any tasks given him to him with with speed and efficiency, by any means necessary. He is very suspicious of others, although not the extent of paranoia, but enough for him to distrust everyone. However, his is quite apt at hiding this distrust, preferring for others to assume that he trusts them. He is always behind and emotional and sociological masquerade, acting the part for the sake of convenience, working secretly to further his own means.

He is a very observant character, spotting little details which others would usually miss, usually exploiting those details to his advantage. A calculative person, Anarus would always consider the options, picking the path of least resistance to achieve his objectives. It is never a simple conversation when it comes to Anarus, for he would always look for hidden meanings and assume the worst of people. However, he would always intentionally portray a sense of innocence, despite being a death knight. Whenever it comes to confrontations, Anarus believes that the ultimate solution to any dispute would always be a duel. For in his logic, when words no longer have an effect, perhaps pain or death might.

Anarus dislikes humans for the way in which he was treated under Kael'Thas. Though he does not hate them as much as he hates the scourge, he would tend to distance himself from one whenever possible. He treats every other race with suspicion, especially so for the trolls, of whom he had been told stories off when he was a mere child. The same heightened suspicion, along with a burning hatred, rings true for the Night Elves. He would never forgive them for what they did to the Highborne, and see them as mortal enemies, possibly turning hostile against one should there be no guards. A Draenei would be met with curiosity along with suspicion, for they are a race which has never been encountered by Anarus, and a lack of information usually infuriates him.

History

Bathed by the energies of the Sunwell upon his birth, Anarus was born to wealthy parents, his father a Spell Breaker, and his mother one of the High Elven Magi. As such, he spent his childhood in rigorous study, learning the ways of the world, enjoying the peace and tranquility of his homeland. He wasn't really interested in learning, and would always get into fights with the other children or run off on his own to explore new places. However, he managed to complete his studies a couple of decades after his birth, which astounded his parents. They assumed that he was smart, but when asked what his motivation was, he replied that the boredom of education drove him to complete it as soon as possible. An argument then ensued as to the future of Anarus, their only child.

His mother wanted him learning the ways of the Blood Knights, like her father before her, while his father wanted him following in his footsteps as a Spell Breaker. His mother gave in eventually, agreeing to teach Anarus the ways of the Arcane. For the rest of his peaceful years, he learned both the art of war as well as the art of magic, excelling in neither, which infuriated his parents, but accomplishing enough to placate them. Anarus took his peace for granted, questioning the purpose of his training, yet accepting them and going through every eventful day with joy, confidence, and arrogance. As the years moved on, so did his immaturity, and his parents watched with pride as he reached adulthood, the time where he was accepted as an apprentice in the Spell Breaker academy. It was also the time when Anarus had to answer a greater calling.

For the Scourge were knocking on the Gates of Quel'Thalas.

War had come, and Anarus greeted it with enthusiasm, eager to fight defending his people. He volunteered to be on the front lines, a decision made in haste and against the wishes of his parents. Anarus knew no fear when he laid eyes on the scourge, only a burning passion to serve his people, sure of himself, going into battle thinking it was a game. He paid a high price for his overconfidence, receiving severe injuries only moments after entering the battlefield, complacency being the foe which triumphed. He was nearly killed, and it was in the horror of war, in the face of death, did he finally know fear.

He was saved by his comrades, who pulled him back behind their lines for emergency treatment. Anarus was then rushed back to the mainland for his wounds were indeed severe, and no one expected him to live. Agonising pain coursed through his entire body, yet he managed to hold on until a healer could finally see to his wounds. Anarus was supposed to return to the battlefield after the healing, but a part of him rebelled against this ruling, the more dominant part, driven by fear. Despite the strength of the High Elves, it was only a matter of time before the Scourge would finally reach the Sunwell, and Anarus managed to persuade his healer of this fact. So just as the scourge penetrated the inner gates, the two of them fled to the woods.

Anarus was in denial. He had left his family, his city, his people. He was confused, spending the next few days in the woods with the company of his healer. It was only when they felt the corruption of the Sunwell did they desperately search to return to Silvermoon. It was only when he witnessed the genocide of the elves, the burning of Quel'Thalas, that Anarus regret his decision to run. He was filled with sadness, and through that sadness rose a burning anger. He damned himself for running away, and wanted to charge in and fight the scourge right there and then, knowing that it was suicide. However, his companion restrained him from doing so, persuading him to follow her out into the woods, to escape the death that pervaded their once glorious city. Anarus acquiesced, following her into the woods, his attempts at drowning out the screams from the city futile.

Hours turned into days, days into weeks. Anarus used this time to meditate and consolidated all that he had learned, training and surviving, withering at the need to feed his addiction. Finally, it was too much to bear, and so both Anarus and his companion decided to return to the city, accepting that death was much better than to live without a means to feed the addiction they so longingly craved. Upon reaching the city, they were shocked by its emptiness, like as if cyclone had hit the city and left it barren. They were ready to take their own lives when they bumped into other survivors, preaching of the restoration of Quel'Thalas, and of the survival of Kael'Thas. Their spirits rose, hearts forged anew, and it was with proud conviction that Anarus joined Kael'Thas and took up the name: Blood Elf.

Anarus and his companion parted ways after that, for she was to serve in restoration of Silvermoon, while he was to serve the Alliance under the leadership of Kael'Thas. It was through this servitude that Anarus learned what it meant to be a soldier, fighting alongside his brethren for a higher purpose, learning through experience. Yet the hunger did not subside, and the Blood Elves were being put through difficult situations under the command of the Alliance. Therefore, when Kael'Thas finally accepted aid from the Naga, Anarus was overjoyed, but not much so when the Blood Elves were imprisoned and sentenced to death.

Plagued by the addiction, Anarus was willing to accept his fate, but once again, he was denied the surcease of death. The Naga came to the rescue, and although Anarus wished to court death, he grudgingly accepted his duty to his people, remembering his cowardice at the fall of Quel'Thalas, and not wanting a repeat. Anarus followed Kael'Thas blindly, unsure of whether his loyalty stemmed from virtuous roots or from the need to satiate his burning hunger. Long was the trip to the Outlands, but when the Elves finally reached Illidan, weak and weary, did they finally find the means to feed the hunger. Anarus was brimming with pleasure after being taught how to harness fel energy. Untold delights along with his hatred of the scourge compelled him to follow his brethren under Illidan's rule back to Azeroth with the intent of confronting Arthas, he who led the scourge to Silvermoon. Who destroyed the glorious Sunwell.

Illidan's demise only caused Anarus to feel a greater hatred for the Scourge. He wanted to drive at them with everything they had, but Kael'Thas opted to return to the outlands and pledge themselves to the Burning Legion. Anarus was furious, for he felt that Kael'Thas was commiting the ultimate betrayal, siding with the Burning Legion, the source of the scourge. Despite his love for fel energy which originated from the demons, Anarus knew that no good would come of it. He left the Blood Elves secretly, opting to return to Silvermoon and protect his people. Soon enough, Blood Elves turned to fel magic in order to feed their hunger, and as the months passed, Anarus only felt his hatred for the scourge grow deeper, hatred which he vented in his training as he slowly grew adept at being a Spell Breaker. He never learned what happened to his parents, or his companion.

He knew that he would never stop hating himself for his cowardice, and that his hatred for the scourge would never subside. Therefore, before he could be initiated as a Spell Breaker, he steeled himself both mentally and physically, then left Silvermoon for the plaguelands. He no longer had to defend his people, for Silvermoon had been restored, and so he left all purpose of living. He wanted to die fighting the scourge, to be rid of all the hate and anger that boiled inside of him. When he finally reached the plaguelands, he threw his backpack containing his provisions away, and unsheathed his swords, giving a loud battle cry before walking into the stench of death.

He killed ghouls, zombies, undead, and even mutated animals everywhere he went. He had given up on life, and just wanted to die, but he fought courageously for if he were to die, he wanted to take as many of the scourge down with him. Fireballs flew, blades clashed, and a lich watched with amusement as this lone fighter slew minion after minion. Anarus grew weary from fatigue, his pace and movements slowed, the various cuts and injuries on his body sapping his strength as he faced insurmountable odds. Only when he faced a giant abomination did he know that the battle was lost, but nevertheless, he fought on. The undead were relentless, and a strike from the abomination sent his body flying. His vision blurred, yet he grinned at the sight of an advancing undead horde. His body sagged, his grip on his sword loosened.

Then the world went black.

He thought he had finally died, yet he awoke to find himself in chains, surrounded by undead with strange symbols on the ground and on his body. The smell of the room reeked of death, and the sounds of chanting only fed his fury. He struggled in his chains, yet the pain of his wounds shocked him. He still felt the blood slowly drain from his cuts, followed by a wave of confusion, for he was unsure as to whether he should be delighted that he was still alive, or horrified that he wasn't given the release of death. Slowly, he started losing consciousness, for he heard whisperings in his mind, whisperings which tempted him, driving him insane. Little did he know of the Lich King's plans. Little did he know of the ritual being performed, a ritual which would bind him to the scourge forever.

Anarus awoke with a new found strength, yet the whispers continued, pushing him to the boundaries of sanity. He was still tied up in chains, and fed vile substances which surprisingly managed to give him sustenance. After several days in limbo, Anarus was greeted by a Lich, who then ordered his minions to unshackle the Blood Elf. Anarus sat there, his head hung low, his breathing slow, his eyes burning blue. When he looked up at the Lich, he felt as if he wanted to attack the lich, for such was the strength of his resolve, yet the voices in his head told him otherwise. They coaxed him and softened him, telling him to serve the lich king, and eventually, the voices won out, for they promised him power and freedom, in servitude, an irony he couldn't grasp. Anarus was then brought to the lich king.

And so began his duties as a Death Knight.

Unlike other Death Knights, he still bled, still required food and water, and it was this difference that caused him to be shunned by the others. They saw it as a weakness, but in fact, it made him stronger than the others, for he was complete, instilled with the powers of a Death Knight. His will was no longer his own, obeying the voices in his head which asked him- ordered him- to kill, to invoke death upon the world, and like an obedient dog, he did as they asked. Where there was once fiery passion, there was now cold hatred. He became proficient in frost magic, among the other powers of a Death Knight, and used that proficiency to his advantage, feeding his magical addiction as well as his addiction for death. He performed his duties efficiently, execution every order with vigilance, for he wanted to do as the voices say, in hopes that they may go away. And for that purpose, he slew another death knight, for the voice told him to, contradicting every conscious thought he could muster. For this death knight was no ordinary Death Knight. This Death Knight was once a blood elf priest, who helped him escape Quel'Thalas.

Who was his closest friend and lover. Thus did Anarus succumb to the darkness.

Several battles later, and suddenly the Lich King decided to retreat to Northrend. Anarus did not know why the Lich King decided to retreat, nor why he was left behind. In his confusion, he merely listened to the voices, wandering the plaguelands, performing the needs of the voice. He turned to cannibalism for sustenance, killing everything, performing the needs of the voice. The voice that whispered to him, driving him insane. The weeks passed by, and soon, Anarus had grown weak from malnutrition, and thought that he would finally die. But the voices continued, and despite the state his body was in, he went to attack what seemed to be a forsaken procession, for he had to perform the needs of the voice. He never managed to injure anyone though, for he was spotted in his advance, and intercepted, knocked unconscious. Even in unconsciousness, the voices whispered, and suddenly, they disappeared as mysteriously as they appeared, and with their disappearance, Anarus opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the symbol of black sword pointing downwards. The insignia of the Ebon Blade.

He was given food and water, locked in a furnished room, unshackled and thankful that the voices had gone away. He spent the time he had meditating, trying to come to terms with all that he had done, and all that he could now do. His body no longer showed signs of malnutrition after a long time had passed, and finally, someone entered the room, wearing the tabard of the Ebon Blade, giving him much needed information of his current status. He had broken free from the Lich King, thanks to the help of the Forsaken, yet he retained the powers of a Death Knight. Anarus was relieved, and decided that he wished to help the Ebon Blade in their fight against the scourge. However, he was merely given his weapons, a tabard, some basic armour, and was then told to head back to Silvermoon, to return to the Ebon Blade once he had reconciled with his people, for despite being a Death Knight, he was still one of the living.

He was a new man.