Azazel the Godsdeath

 


Gender: Male (he/him)



Age: Several hundred years (Presents as mid-twenties)



Race: Demon-possessed human



Nationality: Zeinav



Appearance: The vessel of the cohabitating demons is a lithe, well-muscled man of 6'4". It has brown hair that is always tousled just so, giving it an effortless messy look that belies the incredible effort that is put into making it so. The vessel has striking green eyes that seem to see just a little too much, full of the zest of life. Customarily garbed in the loose-fitting clothing of the region from which the puppet hails, the twin demons enjoy showing off their body: the one as a testament of his proven battle skill, and the other as a tool of seductive manipulation.



Personality: As is the nature of housing two immortal souls in the restrictive confines of a human form, companions of the man may see one of two very different personalities. Preeminent is the dominant demon: the one who has used his chosen name as the reference for the vessel to the outside world. Azazel is manipulative, cunning, and utterly ruthless, taking ultimate pleasure in building others to incredible heights only to make their fall at his hand ever more spectacular. His tongue is smooth and sharp all at once, and his mastery of divining magics to gauge his victim's minds make him a truly formidable psychological predator. All the world is a cornucopia of delights in the palm of my hand. What fruit should I select to squeeze today?

The subservient demon is known as Arteron, a creature of wrath and combat. As the brilliance of day is contrasted to the subtlety of night, so too is the divide between Arteron and his master. Arteron is brash, brutish, and utterly bloodthirsty. He desires nothing more than to cover the world in blood and revel as he bathes in the entrails of his dispatched foes. That said, he is actually an honorable creature, and given to even respecting those that prove his equal on the field of battle. The weak are to be culled and the strong pushed to their eventual breaking point.



History: The dread tale of the unholy union of demon, demon, and mortal began many years prior to the birth of the vessel, back to his young mother, a minor noble of Zeinav. She was a creature of whimsy and privilege, every bit a product of her environment and displayed the very essence of what the bluebloods of society represented: beauty, entitlement, and wicked intelligence. It so happened the lass had a fondness for divinations and would often go about in the city Zeinav to the various seers and fortune tellers of the lower markets. Every vendor she plied knew of her fierce reputation and feared for their lives should they tell her any harsh news, so all told her only pleasant portents the lady wished to hear.

That is, until one day, when she came to the tent of a new witch in town. The hag saw the arrogance of the noble lady: how she wrapped society around her finger without a care for how she troubled others. Thus, the crone pronounced a fate most dire: that the noble lady would birth a stillborn that would cost her very life.


The other diviners of the market marveled at the stranger's courage to say such thing to a noble, but in her fickle whimsy, the lady merely scoffed and discounted the witch's words, finding amusement in such an obviously too-macabre prediction. Time passed, and as the lady grew and began to take on more responsibilities per her station, her infatuation with the future gradually faded and she forgot the crone's words. She came to fall in love with a visiting noble who was engaging in diplomacy for the pleasant desert winter and became pregnant as a result of their union. Soon enough, the aristocrat father left, and the young lady had only the promise of a child to keep her company.

On a Black Harvest night with no moon, the lady began to experience labor. Fearing the public shame of her family, she ordered servants to whisk her away to an oasis villa, far from the city. There, she delivered a son, stillborn and cold. The noble lady thought back in terror to the old crone who had cursed her, but rather than lament her fate, she decided to take action, for she was nobility and always got her way. 

There was, among her company, a renowned spiritualist who claimed to be able to capture the child's wandering soul and deliver it back to the body. Given the lady's permission, the arcanist began a calling ritual. What answered was certainly not the gentle spirit of the babe.

At first, the new mother's eyes brimmed with tears of joy as the child began moving and crying out for her. Her exclamations of happiness soon turned to dying cries for help, however, as a reddened hue overtook the infant, who, with a hellish strength, turned his tiny hand upon his mother and strangled her to death. Taking in the essence of her life and terror, the babe grew unnaturally fast, until he was the size of a young boy.

Several guards rushed into the room to slay the abomination that had murdered their mistress, but one by one they were felled with new, increasingly bloody hands. The arcanist retreated to a fortified room of the villa: he and all the remaining survivors, as a nightmare stalked the halls, creating ever more crimson for its sadistic pleasure.

Once more, the arcanist called, and the request was answered by a seemingly cooperative spirit. In exchange for promised control of the body, the spirit promised to quell the raging monster. The mage quickly agreed, fearing for his life. And so, the spirit went, into the body of the newborn, into the lion's den. The demon of wrath that animated the body was so gorged on slaughter that it did not realize the subtle tendrils of control that began weaving throughout the body until it was too late. Azazel took control of the body, forcing it into paralysis, as he conferred with the demon of wrath. As a demon of manipulation, he stood no chance against such an offensive powerhouse, but Azazel's guile was legendary. By the actions of the wrath demon alone, he had figured out the true name of the beast, and by the calling of Arteron's name bound him.

Azazel was never one to waste potential, however, and rather than making his new servant a mindless drone, he proposed a pact with Arteron: Azazel would relinquish control of the vessel when combat was initiated and whenever else struck his fancy, and Arteron would lend his strength to Azazel's schemes. Thus, a bargain struck, a blood oath made, the twin-demon vessel stepped into the hall where the remaining survivors huddled. 

With a smile that could woo royals, Azazel claimed that he had successfully shackled the demon... and then relinquished control to Arteron to finish his bloody work.

Now with the strength of wrath and the terrifying acuity of manipulation, the twin-demon vessel stalks the lands of Charon, orchestrating the world's final act.