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Azzo Calvier

Make haste, the audience awaits!

0 · 236 views · located in New Cairo, Egypt

a character in “Quintessence”, originally authored by phantasms, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

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AZZOCALVIER
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The director only lives for the show. However, directors are cursed with never setting foot on the stage. The sadistic irony of working to be in the spotlight, only to be cast away in the shadow the spotlight casts. The actors took the theater and now want to write the script too. Ridiculous...this world, this theater is his masterpiece, and only his.

AGE
x29

GENDER
xMale
SEXUALITY
...Heterosexual

.ETHNICITY
x........Italian
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/ / / / / I inspire action, not take it. / / / / /
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ImageImageImage ImageHEIGHT
x195 Centimeters

WEIGHT
x82 Kilograms

DIALOGUExxx
x#330051
HAIR COLOR
xBrunette

EYE COLOR
xBrown

THOUGHTxxx..
x#00006B
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Azzo is a pacifist by heart. He doesn't retain as much destructive power as other mages and instead prefers to plan each move carefully. His summoned guardian takes form of a giant mirror (description of guardian properties). If he is lacking in vigor, he can call upon the demon of the mirror by cracking it physically, usually with his fist. A masked man with unrivaled combat expertise in exchange for losing his personal magical protection. After his trump card transpires, he will suffer a reduced effect of the trauma that results from his guardian being destroyed.


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Azzo is rather well groomed even if his occupation isn’t the most stable. Fairly handsome with a complexion best described as fair. Even if Azzo neglects physical labor, he still remains in good shape. His facial features and body frame remain chiseled, with noticeable traces of toned muscle, but best described as merely fit. Azzo dresses in dapper clothing, dress pants, a trench coat and a suit. The colors remain drab, but the director only works from behind the scenes, standing out would be trivial. The bandages on his arms are a bit of an odd fashion statement, but it’s only function is to nurse the wounds of the many cuts he gets from breaking the mirror. Azzo’s posture is prestigious. He tips his head high to look down on his actors, but levels his eyes so no inspiration leaves his line of vision.

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/ / / / / Which is the lie? The mask, or the face? / / / / /
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The director’s tale can best be described as a fall from grace. Azzo was born into a wealthy family, almost described as royal. His family had a monopoly on every resource that could be mined out of Italy. Azzo’s father was able to single-handily save the Italian Government from debt and raise it to one of the wealthiest countries at the time. Due to his father’s monopoly and high position in the Government. Azzo lived a life of luxury with his needs being taken care of faster than they could arise.
In his childhood, Azzo was quintessential. His grades were exemplary and his dedication to his other extracurricular activities would make him a man of many talents. Music, theater and especially writing. It would seem that he could cherry pick any profession he wanted, but he was only given one choice. His father was diagnosed with a disease that would claim his life early. All be it, his father would live for a bit longer, but not enough to keep his influence on Italian politics and trade. Azzo would become his successor.
Azzo was only a pawn, that’s what he felt. He was only put there to fill a purpose. He was looked at for what he will achieve, but not for what he was. He would neglect studying in his teenage years, but was quickly whipped back to shape. Thus, making him reluctant to become what his father wanted to be. One fateful night, his parents called him over to have him inform them about his studies. He wasn’t performing as well as he was expected, the worst he has. His father was prone to deafening outburst and today was no exception. A stern fit ended by the words “You will never achieve anything.” Yelling makes way for more yelling. Azzo screamed “Don’t look at me for what I should achieve, but what I am.” He only wanted someone to look at him.
A bright flash and a large mirror appeared behind him. The only person that would look at him was himself. He was a mage. Security was quickly called and the guards subdued the small boy. Azzo was charged with attempted murder and sentenced to death by his own parents due to his genes as a mage. The Italian mafia always was a problem, and due to a high ranking Government official recently passing away. The Mafia waged war against the Government. A covert operation had the Mafia capture Azzo a day before his execution.
It wasn’t well known that Azzo’s own parents abandoned him. The mafia’s main objective was to use him as a bargaining chip, but as Azzo had no use anymore. He was to rot in a prison cell. Solitary confinement gives people too much time to think. He questioned his own purpose as fate seemed to have taken that away from him. He thought about what he could do and cycled through his many talents before stopping at the theater. Something so trivial, became something that drove his life. His whole life was a show, he wasn’t the actor, no…he was the one writing.
The war ended swiftly, with the Government’s victory. As Azzo was a changed man, he was barely recognizable and was released even though he was granted a death sentence. He left Italy to chase his new passion. He chose the life of the glorious playwright. This world was his masterpiece, but he wasn't done writing it. He is on the search for inspiration. He traveled and watched. A wanderer, no no no, he had a goal. Magic, the one thing that ruined him, seemed to inspire him, inspired him to write his next piece
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/ / / / / Music is a necessity of the theater. It orchestrates life and, more importantly, death. / / / / /
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ImageImageImage ImageMAGIC LEVEL
xThree

BRANCH OF MAGIC
xSummoning

OCCUPATION
xTraveling Musician
xxxxxENDURANCE.........1/10
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xxxxxSTRENGTHWWWL4/10
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xxxxxKNOWLEDGEWW..9/10
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/ / / / / They call me mad. All artists are mad. / / / / /
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[CHARACTER BY PHANTOM]
[CODING BY SPIRITDANCER]

So begins...

Azzo Calvier's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jin Long Character Portrait: Katia Pasternak Character Portrait: Azzo Calvier Character Portrait: Venera Petrov Character Portrait: Jyne Wang Cai Hong Character Portrait: Claudius Gartner Character Portrait: Eric Zarzuela Character Portrait: Jirou Mcafee Character Portrait: Crystal Esprit
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▬▬▬ INTRODUCTION

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        New Cairo's city was almost as diverse as its population, boasting a number of different locations and districts, all home to different types of people. A cacophony of voices echoed through out the Red Sand as fans watched their favorite sports teams battle it out in the stadiums, none of them ever becoming too unruly with the ever watchful eye of the Raptora staring at them. When such one of these fans dared so, they were almost immediately rounded up and taken to one of the smaller facilities, some even grateful that they'd never be stuck in one of the cells in Ivaldi.

        It was a place where reality seemed to bend and warp given the unnatural silence of the building, and if put in there for so long it wouldn't be a surprise for them to come out missing a few screws in their head.

        Although seemingly ancient to most citizens, the Old Market held a lot of history in it, history that shouldn't be waved away by a hand and forgotten. A casual stroll through the market stalls could lead to seeing many old relics of the past, some which the older citizens will fondly remember, but others may see them as collectables, or even worthless. Though none can deny that there is a certain piece about the area.

        With the abscence of city lights, noise and the more advanced technology, you're simply left with you're own thoughts and the presence of those around you. And while technology is beneficial in many ways, taking the time to have a honest conversation with another human can have its perks as well. Nethmar University's halls were filled with its all mage student body, the only real quiet locations in the school being the occasional classroom and the many libraries. If you happened to pass one particular room you might have even seen a myriad of mages practicing their branches of magic.

        The Pulse District was as lively as it always was, despite the occasional fight that broke out in bars, and sometimes spilled into the streets. But under all of everyone's drunken, carefree attitudes was dormant anxiety. The Red Triad has been particularly incessant on attacking the Pulse District, and in the darkest hours of the night, you can often see members of them openly recruiting people.

        While there are some that will openly mock them and all other mage supremacists, others are more hesitant to speak of them. Though there isn't any doubting that the Red Triad is in the corner of every New Cairo citizen's mind, everyone is waiting to see what they do next, especially the Raptora.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Azzo Calvier
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#FFAE19
#330051

"How quaint it is to steal from such a place with a respectable history." A man dressed in a trench coat, stood from the crowd. Disdainfully looking down on his fabled actors. Azzo pulled out his notebook, searching the masses for his beloved inspiration. A young woman appeared from behind him. With a tasteful sigh, she spoke. "It's not called stealing. It's called borrowing and forgetting to pay back."

Irene the phantom thief, a figure shrouded in mystery. After she unsuccessfully attempted to pickpocket Azzo, she begged to travel with him. Whether it was mere curiosity, loneliness or the urge to try another pilfer was beyond him. Azzo didn't mind her company, mostly. Irene forces Azzo to actually work for once in his life, while Azzo prevents her from doing something unintelligent while they're out, such as wearing her magician's outfit. Azzo never liked thieves, hailing from a lifestyle of riches, but Irene despises mages. So at least the feeling was mutual.

The Old Market was brimming with street performers, Azzo being one of them. "I'll make more than you will steal, I can guarantee that." This location seemed perfect, street shows were the norm and people came here to exchange, so they will most likely have money on their person. The only threat was encountering a powerful mage, a telepath especially. But a magician who rigs the deck and a director who believes in fate seem to remedy this problem by simply being lucky.

Azzo got set up, particularly somewhere with less people. Azzo seemed to be conceited enough to think he will attract a crowd regardless, but this tactic also worked for their real occupation. Too much people could lead to too much distractions in finding the perfect person. Azzo always was a skilled guitarist, so drawing in big-tippers never was a problem. As he started playing, people were already noticing him. Azzo played familiar songs such as 'Photograph', as the melody needed to be recognizable because Azzo was a pitiful singer. A man walked up, dropping a generous tip inside his guitar case. "Grazie Tante", Azzo thanked the man. He looked closely as the man placed his wallet in the left breast pocket of his coat.

Irene caught a glimpse of this as well. She exchanged momentary eye contact with Azzo before setting out for the man. Irene knew shortcuts and alternate routes to appear in front of him, proceeding to pretend to trip and fall onto him. "Ahh, I'm so stupid, sorry sorry sorry. It will never happen again, I swear. Please forgive me..." The man looked away, trying to avoid eye contact. While Irene droned on for a bit more about her clumsiness, she opened the man's pockets. Gum, a lighter and cigs, phone and of course, the wallet. Irene took it all. She and the man both got up and brushed themselves off. The man spoke, "Don't worry about it. Remember to be careful, there are rotten people in every part of this city." With that the man walked off. Irene silently commented on the man's command. "People like me." After counting the money, Irene walked back to Azzo.

They both counted up their spoils after doing this to more than a couple unfortunate citizens. Azzo gaining 1777 pounds while Irene stole 1753 and souvenirs. It was unwise to stay in a place you just pilfered. But Azzo and Irene needed to spend their money somehow.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Azzo Calvier Character Portrait: Eric Zarzuela
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Collabo between Alle and Phantom.
#FFAE19
#330051
#darkgreen

Losing to someone as pretentious as Azzo wasn’t the most pleasant experience. The walk to the café was filled with constant bragging and remarks. When passing a simple flower, the air is filled with “Ah, this rose reminds me of my perfect victory.” For someone also filled with pride, it was unbearable, especially if Azzo barely won.

The chiming of a bell signaled their entry as Azzo held the door open for Irene. They couldn’t stay and enjoy using their money for long, as they did have to account for being arrested. This specific café seemed to be quite popular, Hanna, was it? The food must've taken some time to be cooked, but it was a good choice for not getting recognized. After ordering their items of a coffee and croissant for Azzo and a sandwich for Irene, they both took time in the bathroom to wait.

They always brought a change of clothing and when their jobsare finished, they put on their specific masks. It only made sense for Azzo to take longer as a director must look the best for his performance. When Irene finished, she decided to collect the final dollars that would give her the victory. She was promptly on the chase, giving Azzo the honor of fetching their food for them.

It took a while to find a perfect target, she didn’t know the locations of anyone’s valuables. After a long few minutes of searching, she finally found a man with a chain sticking out of his pocket. Obviously that couldn’t just be an inferior fashion statement, so she tailed the man. Once close, she inserted some of her hair into the connecting links before both people were put to a grinding stop. “Ow, Ow, Ow.” Irene would groan in pain.

"Uh." The man came to an immediate stop, looking down at her with a confused expression. He looked younger than she thought - more boy than man, around highschool age. Said confused expression immediately turned into a bewildered and worried expression when he noticed that her hair had caught on the chain. "Oh my god," he blurted out, eyes wide, immediately unclipping the chain from his jeans. Pulling out his wallet and holding both it and the chain tightly in his hands, he brought it up to head height so that Irene no longer had to lean downwards. "Crap lady, I'm so sorry, are you ok?!"

They both fiddled with the chain with no success. After a few minutes, Irene would put her plan in motion. "Why don't we go somewhere that's not in someone's way?" Irene asked, leading the man over to an alley with her hair as a leash.

"Yeah, sure." The boy followed her obediently, like a lamb lead to slaughter. His brows creased as he continued to fiddle with the chain. "How'd this even happen anyway?" He asked her, thin fingers delicately pulling strands of hair out of the chain links. He frowned, focused on his task as he continued to mutter to himself. "It was in my backpocket how'd it even happen..."

As soon as her hair was free, she took the wallet and shoved through the man, shouting a mocking, "Thank you for the meal." Before taking off.

She would only have a few seconds headstart.

"Wha- OI!" The boy chased after her almost instantly, a scowl on his face. He got over the startlement faster than most people did. "GIMME BACK MY WALLET THIEF!" He yelled, legs pumping as he charged after her with all the finesse of a rampaging athlete.

Sliding through a bystander's legs and making the nearest exit towards a large crowd. Irene had confidence that she would lose him. She made a break towards the nearest alley

No matter where she ran, how many obstacles she placed in front of him, he didn't lose track of her. Everytime she looked back she would see the brown-haired boy, green eyes glaring holes into her back as he chased after her with the determination and accuracy of a homing missile. And no matter what she did, she couldn't lose him, and the distance between the two grew closer and closer.

It was honestly terrifying. Irene would look back, eyes focused on the man in question. She didn't get it, Every step she took; she couldn’t shake him. Irene was sure she would be leading him to a dead end and into crowds, but somehow he would always be a few steps behind her. She would look right into the man’s eyes, and honestly be a bit creeped out as a result. She was only focused on getting away. “He’ll give up, eventually.” Irene stated,vaulting up a fence.

Unbeknownst to Irene, the boy's eyebrows creased together in a look of concentration as he sprinted after her, dodging and weaving between the few people present. In front of her, a large puddle (courtesy of a Mr Silverberg, who had dropped a barrel of water meant for cooling and spilt half of it onto the street) too wide to jump over and too large to swerve around gained an extra gleam.

Underneath the puddle grew a sheen of clear ice, slippery to step on and near impossible to see.

"Kyaaa!" Irene would let out a squeak before tumbling down. Irene falling seemed to be unlikely, but it happened, no matter the odds. Irene rubbed her head, groaning in pain.

"Haa!" The boy tackled her before she could get up, one knee digging into the small of her back and gripping her wrist as he tried to wrench his wallet out of her grasp. Irene always was one to play dirty. As soon as the man was on her, she yelled for help. "Pervert! Someone help!" A large crowd gathered as a result.

"Wha -" The boy's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Like I'd be attracted to a thieving bitch like you! You stole my wallet!" The boy yelled, resting more of his weight on her as he pried her fingers off the wallet. One, two, three, four, and he held his wallet triumphantly in one hand while using the other to wrestle her wrist down against her back, like a cop arrest. "Plus, if I was a perv, I'd be straddling you from the front instead of kneeling on your back," He added at a more normal volume, frowning down at her, tightening his grip on her wrist. With his free hand, he flipped open his wallet and checked its contents.

Everything seemed to be in order. The boy's student ID - Eric Zarzuela, university - and other cards gleamed at him, and his cash was all acounted for. Eric sighed in relief.

The crowd seemed to be in favor of Irene. The man's reasoning fell to deaf ears. The group surronded forming some sort of huddle with the man as the target. Before the crowd helped the wrong side, a man dressed in a trench coat stepped inside. “And that concludes are marvelous performance, please make the nearest exit to the right please.” Azzo announced. The crowd, now knowing that it all was a trick quickly dispersed, leaving the group of 3. “Would you step off my subordinate?” Azzo asked the man, straightening his coat after his query.

The man hesitated, as if he wanted to refuse, but after a few seconds he sighed and stood up, getting off Irene's back. Glaring warily at the two, he clipped his wallet back onto the chain and slipped it back into his pocket, obviously geared for a fight. Irene quickly got up, hiding behind Azzo. "He touched me." Irene complained.

"To get my wallet." The boy rolled his eyes at her, disdain and anger clear on his face. It was clear he was really pissed off at her calling him a pervert. "I didn't touch your front, only your back and your wrist. Like I'd molest a girl so easily." He scowled, wrinkling his nose at her. "Though if it'd been the other way round you'd probably have coped a feel, considering how easily your mind headed in that direction."

Irene wasn't one to listen to logic. Anything that was said to her, especially in a stern voice came out the other ear. To fit this rather lengthy response the man gave her, "Look Azzo, he's trying to explain his sexual fantasies. He wants to be a female." Irene would state. Azzo would shake his head. "I do apologize for this little act of thievery."

"Like how you want to be a male?" The man snorted , full of disdain. "And there's no need for you to apologise, since she was the one who stole it." he directed at Azzo, scowling. After they got their breath back, he asked a rather weird question. ""Why steal?"

It seemed a mocking, ridiculous question, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that made the question ring true. "You don't seem to be in dire straights, and I know that there're jobs avialable here. Why steal?"

Azzo pushed Irene from behind him. "I believe she is more fit to answer this question than I." Irene looked nervous, almost as she was pushed on stage by the director. "Stealing is the only thing I'm good at, the only thing I can brag about, there really isn't much a fragile girl such as myself can do besides it." Her usual childish tone suddenly vanished, like a magician's trick. After her statement, she hid behind Azzo once again. Azzo sighed, "Would you like us to treat you to something or do we have a disjointed sense of trust?" He would ask.

The man looked as if he didn't believe them. In fact, he looked as if he wanted to call bullshit. But then his stomach growled. A hint of red dusted his cheeks and he scowled at them in what seemed like embarrassment before sighing, tension seeping out of his shoulders. "Well, food would help, I guess." He admitted gruffly, reaching a hand up to the back of his head. "And there's something I want to ask you guys too, so we can discuss that over food. But if you try stealing from me again..." He looked at them both, gaze even. "I'm calling the police."

The hard look in his eye indicated that he would do his best to hold them down while waiting for the police to come.

Azzo’s stern look would eventually meld into a slight grin. Azzo would reassure the man. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on her. She will also be cleaning up this little mess starting with paying the bill.” Irene would start to whine, but Azzo quickly shut her up with one look. Eventually,Irene complied, “Fine, but I’ll be choosing the café. Hanna, it is!” She would run ahead, clearly wanting to get this over with as fast as possible. As Irene ran ahead, Azzo put his arm around the man’s neck. “Would you do me a favor? Please refrain from using your magic in front of Irene.” With that, the man walked ahead.

The man's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't say a word. His eyes narrowed at Irene's direction, and Azzo could see the thoughts mull in his mind as the man followed them, hands in his pockets. "Alright," He said quietly. It seemed that he had came to his own conclusions about why not. "But only if you tell me how you guessed that."

"I have my ways, just as a magician can't reveal his secrets. A director can't reveal his script." Azzo responded.

The man clearly wanted to continue asking, but he didn't. For a while, there was silence between them, the man easily keeping up pace with Azzo despite the long run from earlier, hands tucked inside his pockets. Then the boy cleared his throat. "Thanks, by the way." he said gruffly. "For clearing the mob before things escalated. I saw the look in their eye - true or not, they were gonna beat me up because they believed her. Talk about gender discrimination." He chuckled darkly, the sound low and wry in his throat. "Most people would have waited before extracting their friend or partner from the situation, but you cleared the mob instead. So thanks for that."

Azzo would smirk. "Every audience, every stage and every theatre can't be left waiting. There seemed to be a large group so I just decided to make an appearance. Directors such as myself shouldn't be stuck playing backstage. There really is no need to thank me, I did what was natural for myself, regardless of the situation."

"Oh. But still." The man shot a serious look at Azzo, and there was sincerity in his eyes. "Thanks anyway."