Name: Valandil Mairya Azrael
General Information
Species: Elysian
Gender: Male
Age: 36
Family/Creators:
[Uncle/Guardian] - Van Ma'erar
[Mother] - Valerie Daisuke
[Father] - Falis Daisuke
Faction: Galactic Order of Deification
Occupation:
Rank:
Current Assignment:
Physical Characteristics
Height:
Weight:
Build and Skin Color:
Face and Eye Color:
Hair color and Style:
Distinguishing Features:
Psychological Characteristics
Personality:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Goals:
History:
Mairya... the God of Death. It's only fitting that I should live up to my uncle's name for me, isn't it?
They must have known very early on what would happen. The blue mark on the baby's left eye had left a foul omen--and after he had caused the death of his mother during childbirth, none would take him. His father turned him away with curses and hate. There had never been much love from him for anything--none but his Valerie, and now she was taken from him by the very thing she had wanted most.
Valandil Mairya Azrael was named fondly for his omen. The right eye bore the mark of a legend, of Azrael the great overseer, who struck out the names of the dying from his birth to finally end their torment on this world... Mairya had come from the true death angel, the one that lead one's soul from the world and escorted them to the chamber of judgement--and there, to Hell, if he so wished it.
They were children's stories... things that were told to frighten children into sleep at night when they would not otherwise obey their parents. They had not even been stories originating from our kind, but from other foolish races adventurers had encountered.
He grew up working. He resented it, tugging around the dirty laundry for one of the most powerful men in his city. When he walked outside, the other children called out names or screamed and ran away. Even the superstitious adults avoided crossing his path.
When I was walking down the alley one night after running from home--I had been a fool then, thinking that leaving my comfort would help me gain some great understanding in life--I was encountered by an older man. In the dark alleyway he grabbed me by my hair, throwing me up against the cold brick wall and pinning my young body with his larger one. I remember his breath being offensive and his tongue tasting heavily of some beverage I never wanted to drink myself.
He touched me, but I was not one to be frightened easily--as a matter of fact, if I looked back now and thought keenly on the subject, I may have even enjoyed the attention. I was weak.
After the grimy creature had removed my clothing and even found solace in touching me and speaking to me in a soft, slurred voice that was neither attractive nor what I had expected to hear when the sort of thing had happened, the clouds had pulled away. It was the first time I looked away from my captor, and the first time he truly got a look at me. The scream he let fly from his lips was gruesome, as if I had been the one to assault him--as if it had been I to bruise his body with my grease-ridden fingers. "Azrael," was the last thing I heard before he ran. I gathered up my clothing, unshaken by the confrontation, placed them on and, after slight deliberation, returned home.
It had not been his own name the bum had whispered when he ran, for Valandil had no great reputation, but the name of a legend, something fake...
The years went by without much event. Though a lower class angel, Azrael was well-fed and did not go wanting. His feathers were intact, his wings powerful. An archangel he was in every way except status. As Valandil became older, he began to plot ways of escape. Truly, he could not leave without great hindrance. Even if his uncle seemed to have no use for him, Azrael was a heated topic of discussion and to lose him would seem uncaring--an image Valandil could not see his uncle coping with very well. Though there was no lock on his door and no guards at the exits, Valandil was trapped. Like it or not.
I snuck into my uncle's room... he was laying on his bed. He was alone; he had not had a bedmate in a long time. He was not the sort to adhere to a relationship where he would have to give up any amount of time from his work hours, and therefore most women were too much worry for him. I wanted to humiliate him, as he had humiliated me. With the deftest of hands, I calmly tied my uncle's hands above him and to the bedpost...
Only after I was sure he could not get free did I lean down and whisper to his ear to wake. It took little time to stir him into conciousness... I put certain carnal knowledge to work that night before I killed him. When I put flame to his room after spreading gasoline on his body, he was still trying to plead through arousal and horror.
Valandil Mairya Azrael became the Angel of Death, in both name and reputation. Before he left the planet as a slave, he had killed three people with decisive calculation: His uncle, his father...
... and his own soul.
Skills:
Leadership : Because Valandil grew up beneath one of the most powerful men in his city, he picked up on certain manipulations that one uses to make themselves the head of the power-based communities. These manipulations give him good leadership skills. He's able to organize and order, and he's lived so long with being intimidating that it's natural to use it to get what he wants done to happen.
Chemistry : Being a servant, the boy did plenty of snooping. His uncle headed a production company for the great Seraphs everyone loved using in the war. Though it takes money and he's not entirely gotten the whole process down, Valandil has the skills to use genetics to his advantage--that is, after a few test subjects sacrifice their lives.
Information Technology : No matter what the rank, it is rare to find an Elysian that cannot operate computer systems and even hack a bit. Valandil can do both. Although not an expert at covering his tracks, he can get into systems fairly easily.
Fighting and Physical : What self-respecting murderer doesn't learn to defend himself? Plotting and planning to kill his uncle took years--Valandil spent this making sure that he could not only outsmart the bastard, but outfight him.
Rogue : Seduction is something Valandil has come to realize as a powerful tool in gaining what he wants. He is very pretty, and he uses such things to his advantage. He rarely is caught when relieving someone of their belongings and even rarer is he stopped when stripping them of their clothes.
Vehicles : After hijacking and crash-landing a few fighters and even bigger vehicles into little-known planets, Valandil has adapted to operations rather well. Though he can't operate anything with any great amount of skill, it's enough to know that he can move the damn thing which way he wants it to go.
Demolitions : In order to get free of many of the oppressive situations he's been since he became a slave, Valandil has adapted to using his knowledge of components in order to make things that will help him escape: namely, bombs.
General Information
Species: Elysian
Gender: Male
Age: 36
Family/Creators:
[Uncle/Guardian] - Van Ma'erar
[Mother] - Valerie Daisuke
[Father] - Falis Daisuke
Faction: Galactic Order of Deification
Occupation:
Rank:
Current Assignment:
Physical Characteristics
Height:
Weight:
Build and Skin Color:
Face and Eye Color:
Hair color and Style:
Distinguishing Features:
Psychological Characteristics
Personality:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Goals:
History:
Mairya... the God of Death. It's only fitting that I should live up to my uncle's name for me, isn't it?
They must have known very early on what would happen. The blue mark on the baby's left eye had left a foul omen--and after he had caused the death of his mother during childbirth, none would take him. His father turned him away with curses and hate. There had never been much love from him for anything--none but his Valerie, and now she was taken from him by the very thing she had wanted most.
Valandil Mairya Azrael was named fondly for his omen. The right eye bore the mark of a legend, of Azrael the great overseer, who struck out the names of the dying from his birth to finally end their torment on this world... Mairya had come from the true death angel, the one that lead one's soul from the world and escorted them to the chamber of judgement--and there, to Hell, if he so wished it.
They were children's stories... things that were told to frighten children into sleep at night when they would not otherwise obey their parents. They had not even been stories originating from our kind, but from other foolish races adventurers had encountered.
He grew up working. He resented it, tugging around the dirty laundry for one of the most powerful men in his city. When he walked outside, the other children called out names or screamed and ran away. Even the superstitious adults avoided crossing his path.
When I was walking down the alley one night after running from home--I had been a fool then, thinking that leaving my comfort would help me gain some great understanding in life--I was encountered by an older man. In the dark alleyway he grabbed me by my hair, throwing me up against the cold brick wall and pinning my young body with his larger one. I remember his breath being offensive and his tongue tasting heavily of some beverage I never wanted to drink myself.
He touched me, but I was not one to be frightened easily--as a matter of fact, if I looked back now and thought keenly on the subject, I may have even enjoyed the attention. I was weak.
After the grimy creature had removed my clothing and even found solace in touching me and speaking to me in a soft, slurred voice that was neither attractive nor what I had expected to hear when the sort of thing had happened, the clouds had pulled away. It was the first time I looked away from my captor, and the first time he truly got a look at me. The scream he let fly from his lips was gruesome, as if I had been the one to assault him--as if it had been I to bruise his body with my grease-ridden fingers. "Azrael," was the last thing I heard before he ran. I gathered up my clothing, unshaken by the confrontation, placed them on and, after slight deliberation, returned home.
It had not been his own name the bum had whispered when he ran, for Valandil had no great reputation, but the name of a legend, something fake...
The years went by without much event. Though a lower class angel, Azrael was well-fed and did not go wanting. His feathers were intact, his wings powerful. An archangel he was in every way except status. As Valandil became older, he began to plot ways of escape. Truly, he could not leave without great hindrance. Even if his uncle seemed to have no use for him, Azrael was a heated topic of discussion and to lose him would seem uncaring--an image Valandil could not see his uncle coping with very well. Though there was no lock on his door and no guards at the exits, Valandil was trapped. Like it or not.
I snuck into my uncle's room... he was laying on his bed. He was alone; he had not had a bedmate in a long time. He was not the sort to adhere to a relationship where he would have to give up any amount of time from his work hours, and therefore most women were too much worry for him. I wanted to humiliate him, as he had humiliated me. With the deftest of hands, I calmly tied my uncle's hands above him and to the bedpost...
Only after I was sure he could not get free did I lean down and whisper to his ear to wake. It took little time to stir him into conciousness... I put certain carnal knowledge to work that night before I killed him. When I put flame to his room after spreading gasoline on his body, he was still trying to plead through arousal and horror.
Valandil Mairya Azrael became the Angel of Death, in both name and reputation. Before he left the planet as a slave, he had killed three people with decisive calculation: His uncle, his father...
... and his own soul.
Skills:
Leadership : Because Valandil grew up beneath one of the most powerful men in his city, he picked up on certain manipulations that one uses to make themselves the head of the power-based communities. These manipulations give him good leadership skills. He's able to organize and order, and he's lived so long with being intimidating that it's natural to use it to get what he wants done to happen.
Chemistry : Being a servant, the boy did plenty of snooping. His uncle headed a production company for the great Seraphs everyone loved using in the war. Though it takes money and he's not entirely gotten the whole process down, Valandil has the skills to use genetics to his advantage--that is, after a few test subjects sacrifice their lives.
Information Technology : No matter what the rank, it is rare to find an Elysian that cannot operate computer systems and even hack a bit. Valandil can do both. Although not an expert at covering his tracks, he can get into systems fairly easily.
Fighting and Physical : What self-respecting murderer doesn't learn to defend himself? Plotting and planning to kill his uncle took years--Valandil spent this making sure that he could not only outsmart the bastard, but outfight him.
Rogue : Seduction is something Valandil has come to realize as a powerful tool in gaining what he wants. He is very pretty, and he uses such things to his advantage. He rarely is caught when relieving someone of their belongings and even rarer is he stopped when stripping them of their clothes.
Vehicles : After hijacking and crash-landing a few fighters and even bigger vehicles into little-known planets, Valandil has adapted to operations rather well. Though he can't operate anything with any great amount of skill, it's enough to know that he can move the damn thing which way he wants it to go.
Demolitions : In order to get free of many of the oppressive situations he's been since he became a slave, Valandil has adapted to using his knowledge of components in order to make things that will help him escape: namely, bombs.
