Born within Helena, the Capital of the Holy Orenian Empire, Azoren was the firstborn of many siblings; yet orphaned at a young age. With no link to his parents nor any family in his tree, he was taken under the care of the orphanage within the lesser districts of the city; where the poor live, and orphans reside. Yet it was not long that he stayed among other children was he adopted by a middle-aged man, a blacksmith who travelled all the way from Oren, so he said; and found a connection with the young boy in particular. Azoren was adopted with the surname of Steelheart; after his adoptive father. He was quick to learn that his adoptive father, Toreln Steelheart, was a former soldier of the Imperial State Army, and he retired so that he may forge arms and armor for the ISA and for those who were willing to pay. Toreln had also intended to teach Azoren the art of blacksmithing, too, and by the young age of ten, he was already crafting blades; later in his preteens, he forged himself a sturdy steel shortsword that he kept mounted on his wall.
Azoren was particularly talented with honing blades and tempering light armor, in his teenage years, he was known as the local Blacksmiths apprentice, and he did a rather fine job at what he did. Despite the occasional blister or spit of fire from the forge, he had the basics of forging weaponry and tools to his disposal; while individual armors were harsh. In his age, Azoren had favored to write about his thoughts and feelings; recording what he crafted, how the day was, what happened. He has seen many things in his job; angry customers, threatening to stick it to Toreln for whatever reason, the local drunkard coming in and making a rucus; muggings, some murders and a lot of Imperials getting involved with lawbreakers around his neighborhood. Pickpockets were here and there, nothing that the Imperials could not handle, for sure.
In addition to his knowledge of forging, Azoren did not attend to any school; but was homeschooled. He mostly bided his time by learning other languages and dialects, such as the Illatians and Raevir. Illatians were pretty common around Helena, so it was necessary to learn; for fun, Azoren had also practiced on mimicking voices and accents, and from changing his pitch from high to low, he pretty much has a talent of mimicking voices- with enough practice and a memory of who sounded like what, he could almost always get away with sounding like another person. Again, for fun, he would call for someone in an entirely other voice, confusing come and goers as they asked where it came from or looked around. There wasn’t much to do for entertaining himself, so he was bored when he wasn’t helping his father or his ever so rare ‘exploring’ he did around the city itself.
With a strong activity of Imperial presence and their law enforcement, you couldn’t get away with much. Not that Azoren had partaken in any sort of criminal activity or wrongdoings, no, but he did like to find his ways on buildings and navigate the roofs at times, to get a view of the streets, or to mess with people. He tried his best not to be a troublesome child, yeah, and there were fewer times that he was sent home by the local guard. And received scolding from Toreln; who was not light when it came to discipline, after all, he was the same dad who would whip him to shape if he did anything that broke the law or got him in trouble with them.
Around seventeen years of age, Toreln thought it be wise get Azoren familiar with his sword arm and his shield arm; while he had the strength to do some forging and heavylifting, he surely had enough to keep his bowstring pulled back and keep his shield up with his sword. Toreln taught him the basics of sword-fighting, and a few tricks to use in any fight. Though this lasted for a few weeks, Azoren found himself to enjoy swinging a sword around, and got into a lot of sparring matches with his father and neighborhood friends. Not for long, though, as they would eventually move away or join the Army. Still, a fun thing, but it was a trick that could save his life if that ever fell down to it.
By the time that he was twenty one, Azoren moved out and attempted to find his own way of living; whatever that would be, though when push comes to shove, he would always have somewhere to go to in any case.
The bustling port city that he had sailed to was quite the sight, yes it was. So many places, so many conversations rang aloud among the clatter of footsteps, dogs barking and children laughing gleefully from mischief, Azoren was not as amazed as he was weary mostly, so many people around that he’d never knew what could happen in mere seconds, it could all go by just as fast as this city moved. At the sudden appearance of this ‘gentleman’ that came before him, speaking as if he was quizzing him, and he was expected to answer rightfully. Though hesitant to respond, he did so brightly as the man did. “I suppose you could say adventure, if not to familiarize myself with society, and seek out my place among them rightfully so.” Azoren responded, his arms gesturing to the sides as his shoulders rolled.

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