Azrael originated from a small and harmonious village, kept in secrecy due to being born to a Farfolk couple that was never meant to be. His father was a High Elf whilst his mother was a Southeron, a forbidden love which was destined for disaster from the moment it began. As a child, Azrael often ended up helping his mother overseeing the cattle and taking care of the various crops which she grew for the purpose of agricultural trading, his mother was always so bright and joyous, she was an idealist, a dreamer, she was one who always turned her back at the thought of catastrophe and grasped onto tiny glimmers of light in hopes for a more peaceful and amicable future for her child.
However, as previously mentioned, Azrael was forced to live in secrecy, being known only to the other village inhabitants as the child of a widow who’s father had been killed by a ravaging bear, whereas in reality, he was the bastard child of an interbreed love punishable only by death. In fears of how their family could be torn apart, his mother and father were to part their own ways, hoping that their relationship was to never be exposed to the public eye, and due to this they were to meet in secret every few months. His father would always ride down from Haelun’or to visit his mother, but he’d also come to check-up on Azrael, although having never explicitly met his son due to potential exposure, he’d still bring gifts from Haelun’or to be delivered as a fragment of what once was. These gifts would come in various forms, sometimes it’d be simple things such as exquisite rocks and Elven toys, but as he progressively became older he’d start receiving things such as cutting-edge weapons, being made of material which leapt miles ahead of any weapon ever to be produced in their village.
But as time lingered, and as Azrael became older and older, there was only so much his parents could do to keep his son in secrecy, so as the years passed, his parents began to slowly stop seeing each other as often, there was even a time when his Father was entirely unable to visit due to being conflicted with the War of the Two Emperors and was forced to join the onslaught led by Emperor Godfrey III on the Holy Orenian Empire. The year was now 1720, when Azrael became 18 and was gifted with his first sword by his Father, who would make occasional visits once again to his worried mother after having captured the Reagent of the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska and having the Regency of Haense passed onto Lord Palatine, and would eventually end up fleeing from his division in hopes to abandon his life of war and bloodshed as a soldier, to go live with his fiancé and son, however it was to his surprise that his Father had been following by High Elf spies in suspicion of impurity that had been floating for years and going AWOL, and it was both the first and last time that Azrael would ever see his Father alive, when his parents met once more for a visit to his mother and to celebrate Azrael’s birthday, his parents were murdered in the midst of a nearby forest, the only thing that was to be heard was a loud shriek emanating from the depths of the forest, one far too familiar to that of his mother’s, and in the blink of an eye, Azrael would charge towards the forest, running faster than he ever had before, but once he got there, his heart shattered right there and then, he stood in shock, finding it difficult to inhale the air, unable to murmur a word, almost stumbling into despair right there and then as the bloodstained bodies of his parents lied before him, the only trace left behind was a mysterious arrow.
And from that day onwards, Azrael would come to know of the secret life he had been living via his relatives which lived within the village, he’d take it upon himself to act as a harbinger of Vengeance, but not to fall into the darkness as a means of living up to the hopeful expectations his mother once had. He’d begin training every day, sometimes losing sleep to continue perfecting his skills in combat, he’d want to fight the unjust wars, to protect those who cannot defend themselves, and to find whoever murdered his parents to rain chaos upon them, because upon finding the truth about himself, he was never able to stop seeing himself as the direct genesis behind the death of his parents, having the need to avenge them no matter the obstacle. No matter the challenge. No matter the foe. No matter what.
(I DIDN’T KNOW WHERE TO WRITE THIS SO HERE GOES: I just want to say that I’m currently posting a screenshot of a random Farfolk skin from the Skin Archives because I’m out of time at the moment to make a custom skin, so I want to say that the skin I’ll be picking wont be a definitive skin and I will be making a custom skin for the sake of embodying my character within the server)
Whilst marching towards the market, being mesmerised by the incomprehensible beauty of the bazaar, almost being completely oblivious to folk in his vicinity, his eyes would drift towards the fashionable gentleman who stood before him upon hearing his voice, and having pondered the dispersed questions, he’d softly exclaim. “As much as I’d like to pick all of the above, adventure has always been my strongest incentive. But right now, right now at this very moment, I’m just looking for a starting point.”
He’d begin surveying the the bazaar once more, and before the be-suited stranger had time to process a reply, he’d already strolled off into the distance, with a renovated sense of thrill and excitement, being prepared for the journey which lied ahead.