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Azazel

Frostarian weaponsmith stationed at the Frostarian Embassy in Zenith.

0 · 360 views · located in Streets and Alleys

a character in “Zenith Empire”, as played by Jaek

Description

Azazel is a burly Frostarian standing at 8'2" tall. His skin is snow white, and his pitch black hair stands in a spiked crew cut on his head. Two indigo bars appear to go vertically through his left eye, marking his milky skin as do most notatio on Frostarians. Bright blue eyes with a steely, tenured gaze observe the world around him. Being a weaponsmith, this Nephilim's build is quite large and easily intimidates those around him; however, he is quite the gentle giant. With an easy smile and a cheery personality, those who were once frightened are now comforted when Azazel is near.

Cheery as aforementioned, Azazel is a rather lighthearted individual who enjoys the little things in life. He values hard work and ambition. He tends to find himself drawn to such individuals, which easily explains his partnership with Hakon Paleflame the Salamander.

Azazel is a weaponsmith stationed at the Frostarian Embassy in Zenith and works to repair or provide equipment for security or military members present at the Embassy or Legatorum. Many of the Frostarians who hold onto a trade stationed at the Embassy are encouraged to get involved with the community, providing Azazel with the perfect excuse to work on things other than boring old weapons for his comrades. Though he is a manufacturer and inventor of weapons, Azazel has a distaste for using them. Self-defense is not an issue, but outright warfare is not his cup of tea.

Zenith is a new an exciting place, hopefully he and his new friend can make a name for themselves. But who knows what kind of trouble that may get them into as well?

So begins...

Azazel's Story

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#, as written by Jaek
"Once I move everything out of my work space yes, I could use the extra brawn. Other then that, it's decided!" The Frostarian rose his mug in the air. "To power, wealth, and legacy! To the city of success!" He downed his third and final drink.


(Continued in Streets and Alleys)

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#, as written by Jaek
"Sounds good to me," the Northerner grinned. "As the flames ignited this furnace, so have they ignited our passions to create. If we haven't drawn enough attention to ourselves already simply by building here, we'll surely draw in customers with our works. Are you ready, my friend?" The Frostarian wore a solemn expression for once. His bright, luminescent eyes staring with purpose and determination. It was perhaps the first time the Salamander had seen Azazel actually appear serious.

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As Hakon conducted his display of the Barrier, welcoming some young arcanists from the crowd to throw what they will at him, a stray bolt had actually headed immediately for the back of Azazel's head. Thankfully for the Frostarian, the magical strike had dissipated before striking him. He could still feel the heat cause the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. A small indigo light struggled to shine through the grimy white undershirt the Frostarian wore but was thankfully blocked by some nearby machinery. Hopefully the crowd would ascertain that to the Barrier Hakon held.

When it came to be Azazel's turn, he quickly wiped his hands off on his apron to rid them of as much grease as possible before waving to and greeting the crowd. The Northerner began to paint the picture of a Zenithian female walking on her lonesome down the street late one evening. Suddenly, out of nowhere a thief runs past her from behind and steals her purse! With no guardsmen nearby or person able to catch up to that rotten thief, behold! He presented what appeared to be a miniature crossbow. Azazel fitted it to a gauntlet lying nearby that fit him perfectly. He explained how accurate it was, how it functioned, how to reload and whatnot, as well as the different types of bolts that could be used for it.

Azazel grabbed a small piece of chalk and handed it to a child, whispering in their ear where to go. Giggling, the small Zenithian quickly ran over to the adjacent building and began coloring in a rather small white circle composed the chalk. Asking the crowd to part kindly, Azazel took aim with his wrist-mounted crossbow and fired, hitting it dead center. He then began to answer any questions the crowd asked, his smile wide.

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Azazel put his hands on his hips and let out a hearty chuckle at all of the questions and eager-looking customers. He almost forgot about the crossbow still being mounted and removed it quickly before accidentally shooting himself in the hip. The Frostarian quickly answered the crowd's questions. "You can buy one right now, actually! I have several in stock. But only a few." He began go over, in more intricate detail, just how they worked, explained how to use them properly as well as explain how easy they could be used. "It doesn't take a marksmen to use these, folks! Just point and pull and let the crossbow do the rest." He even showed them how to use it without needing to mount it on a gauntlet. No longer would the women of Zenithian walk the streets at night in fear of losing their belongings without a means to get them back and stop the thief in the process.

As he concluded with explaining the crossbow, not even noticing his compatriot's absence, he began to start on some of the other tools and weapons within their shack he and Hakon had just began mass producing.

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Azazel quickly relented his showcase, opting to take a step back and allow the Salamander his turn. He wasn't much of a spokesperson. Not in his mind, at least. The Frostarian quickly receded to the back of their shop and began taking a quick inventory of some of their most used materials. Sun had reached its zenith over the kingdom and was quickly beginning its decent behind the horizon. The Northerner had observed this first when he had began his showcase. It'd be time to close and lock up, soon. I wonder if Hakon has a place to stay...

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After locking the padlock on the entrance to their "shack," Azazel came around the side with his robe strewn over his shoulder to find Hakon sitting against the wall. "You're a new arrival to Zenith if my memory serves," the Frostarian stated. "Come with me. We have bunks at the Embassy. I'll introduce you to some of my kin there."

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"Nonsense!" the Frostarian chuckled, clapping the Salamander on the shoulder. "We have plenty of extra space and you can even room with me if need be, but I doubt that'd be the case. I know that my kind in the past have had a, uhh... superiority complex," he said a bit sheepishly. "But those that are stationed at the Embassy are rather open-minded. You kind of have to be in order to work at the Embassy." Come to think of it, it made sense. Azazel hadn't really thought about it too much. They were all craftsmen of a trade, bit it practical or political. "Besiiiiiides," the Northerner continued with gusto. "We've been here for a few years now. They're all used to be around the inhabitants of Zenith, and if you're a friend of mine then you're a friend of there's come on, Hakon." Azazel made a "follow me" gesture and began walking towards the street.

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"Well..." Azazel said as they turned onto a main street and began the short walk down to the Embassy. "Superiority complex wasn't necessarily the right words to use. A lot of Frostarians are... Well, more or less racist, I guess you could say." He scratched the back of his head and smiled sheepishly. "When you're easily one of the tallest people around with a nasty reputation in battle you tend to let it get to your head I suppose."

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"Yeahhhh... Things should be fine."

The two easily made their way through whatever remained of the crowd. Both individuals would have easily cut a swathe through any large crowd given their size. Thankfully no such thing was necessary. As the sunlight waned into the darkness and the moon rose up in the night's sky the people of Zenith would eventually retreat to their homes. Although the number of city-goers dwindled, there was still a fair amount of people out and about. It was a metropolis after all.

The street began to open up into one of many squares that would contain political buildings. Frostaria wasn't the only nation-state to have a political relationship with the Kingdom of the Sun. A large square building, two stories in height, stood before with protected by wall and metal gate occupied by guards.

"Here we are."

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Azazel nodded and led Hakon to the gates. Two guards, members of the Zenithian Guardsmen in their golden armor and cleaves, stopped them in their tracks.

"Halt! Visa and ID, please." Azazel procured the required documents. The guard look around the taller being's form to see Hakon. The man rose an eyebrow beneath his helmet. "And him?"

"This is Hakon Paleflame, a close friend of mine. He needs a place to stay and the Embassy has decided to show kindness and provide Frostarian hospitality."

"Uh huh," said the guard unconvinced. "Go on through, Mr. Azazel."

The Frostarian nodded and waved for his Salamander friend to follow. The metal gate slowly opened up to allow them entry into the courtyard of the large Embassy. The lawn was neatly trimmed and colored mint green. Simple stone pavement ran from the gate entrance straight to the front doors of the Embassy. Three more pavement walkways extended from each side of the Embassy all the way to the wall where the sidewalk lined the inside of the wall. Two large flags with a white background sporting a large black sword pointing downwards shouldered by black wings on either side flapped in the slight wind as they hung from the top of the building.

"Home sweet home," Azazel mumbled as he walked up the steps to the Embassy, passed the two Frostarian guards, and opened the front door.

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"Yeah, well," Azazel shrugged as they entered the main lobby where a Frostarian female sat a desk scaled to their species' size rather than that of the basic human scale. Normally that'd be an inconvenience to those who came in and had a desk that was almost as tall as they were, but then again, the Frostarian Embassy didn't really have many visitors. "When your people nearly bring Zenith to its knees..." he trailed off, a disgusted look crossing his face. "Never mind. It's nice, yeah. We did a lot of construction of course, but the Zenithian king was very willing to provide us with a rather nice facility."

They made their way up to the desk where the secretary was seated. Her hair was pulled back into a neat pony tail of blackness with a single red streak. Several strands had fallen loose and arched lazily over her forehead. She wore a simple black dress shirt and white pants to fit. A small, badge-like emblem sat on the upper right portion of her chest shaped like a circle. The circle was a globe with the winged sword in the foreground. It bore the same monotonous black and white coloring.

The desk was in an alcove-like area within the lobby. Perfectly centered, above the desk was a balcony jutting out from the second floor. Two cases of stairs wound alongside the adjacent walls of the lobby to reach the second floor of the building. It was clear that a hallway ran horizontally just from where the balcony stuck out. It was lined with office doors bearing nameplates and titles. The wall just behind the secretary and her desk had that same emblem on her badge etched into its surface. Behind the wall was a hallway that continued on behind the stairs following the same layout as the above floor.

As Azazel and Hakon approached, the Frostarian woman looked up from her load of paperwork. A perfectly plucked eyebrow arched above bright verdant eyes. Her sharp features twisted into a look of bored amusement. "You were out late. What were you up to this time, Azazel?" Her gaze shifted over to the Salamander beside him.

The weaponsmith wore a guilty grin. "Just out seeing the city. I brought a friend who could use a place to stay."

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"His name is Hakon," Azazel spoke up.

The secretary smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Hakon." She turned to the weaponsmith. "We have a few free bunks in the sleeping quarters. I should hope those do nicely."

Azazel bowed in thanks, fighting to hide his ever expanding smile. "C'mon, Hakon. Let me show you around."

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Azazel nodded, understanding. Frostarian to Salamander.

Hakon wasn't exactly comfortable in such a location. He felt out of place. The poor guy probably felt like he was overstepping some boundary or felt like he was being a burden. Neither were true. After all, Azazel did extend the invitation to the duress of the lizard. That was the thing about being the near definition of "superhuman." You weren't just stronger, faster, and smarter. You also felt more. Felt less. Lacked empathy to the point that people would lose their minds over the coldness you were capable of, or held the positive emotions of mankind plus one thousand and then some. Everything was "super."

Azazel was no different. He'd made a friend and that friend was in need, and so he had offered the invitation. The Frostarian was thankful enough that his humble reptilian compadre had agreed to the invitation. He wasn't going to go drag the poor guy around the place and make him feel even more uncomfortable.

The weaponsmith led Hakon to the hallway extending horizontally behind the desk right along the back of the wall that held the diplomatic symbol of Frostaria. They continued down the corridor before turning a few corners. They reached a door. Azazel entered first, leaving the door open for Hakon to enter and close behind him. It was a simple room, large, containing four sets of rather big bunk beds all set with sheets and a comforter on each. Two doors signified two restrooms and four dressers were placed between the bunk beds. "Home, sweet home," Azazel murmured.

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There were signs here or there on the walls with names of places followed by arrows scribbled in the Frostarian tongue. Eventually the Salamander would happen across an entryway larger than the rest he'd seen throughout his wondering of the monotonous hallways of the Frostarian Embassy.

Inside he would fine a place where food was being served crowded with a line on its exterior. Several long tables filled the remaining empty space all occupied to some degree with workers of the Embassy. Of course this wasn't every Frostarian working at the Embassy. Many had different hours and would get breakfast or lunch at varying times.

As Hakon would enter the doorway, that typical buzz of several discussions going on at once immediately quieted down. Pale faces ranging in paper-white to a light statue grey blinked and looked at the odd visitor. Seemingly out of nowhere Azazel appeared right beside Hakon.

"Heyyyyy, buddy." He pat the lizard's shoulder and chuckled. "It's okay everyone, he's with me." Another second of silence passed before they all resumed their conversations as if nothing had happened. "We're not necessarily used to people other than Frostarians being 'round these parts of the Embassy," admitted the burly weaponsmith with a sheepish tone, now addressing his reptilian friend and business partner. "C'mon, let's get something to eat."

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After having had some time to go through the line, get food, and enjoy it, the two began to discuss plans for this new day.

"So how did you like the beds? It's not exactly sand and volcanic ash, but I hope it was just as comfortable," Azazel joked. "Do we have anything specific on our agenda to make? Any wares we need replenished?" The Frostarian cut through a small slab of meat with ease.

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"Ahhh, yeah that'd be needed." The weaponsmith had learned a lot about several different things he normally wouldn't have known up in the North. Things like magic, for instance. Not only was copper a very good conductive material for this re-discovered substance known as electricity but it was good for the arcane as well. Azazel knew his partner worked with all sorts of things of the magical manner as well.

The Frostarian's thoughts were interrupted by some rather loud chatter that sounded to be coming closer. Normally the din of the cafeteria would probably have drowned it out but considering the pair sat at the table closest to the entrance, Azazel and his exceptional hearing shared by his kin couldn't help but pick up quite the selection of high pitched laughs and squeals.

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Azazel had been facing the door to the mess hall when the visitor came. As per usual for those who weren't Frostarian, the cafeteria quieted down for a moment as they observed the newcomer. It was strange. He hadn't see anyone in Zenith look so similar to a Frostari- Wait a minute. It's that girl from the crowd. The burly weaponsmith arched an eyebrow in both curiosity and surprise at the fact that she just happened to be here.

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Azazel blinked. "Uhhh... Sure. No problem. It's nice to actually meet you." Having a list of what needed to be done today brought about certain expectations as well. Not once did he ever expect to have seen her just waltz right into the mess hall of his the Embassy and make conversation with him and Hakon. "This would be my partner."

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"It's nice to meet you, Winnielle," Azazel replied with a humble smile and tip of the head. "I actually do recognize you from the crowd. It's hard to forget a pretty face." A nearby Frostarian female rolled her eyes as she walked past their table. "I am curious, however." The weaponsmith cleared his throat and took a drink of water. "What exactly are you doing at the Embassy? Did you follow us here or something?"

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Ithilwen? Study? So they were just test subjects to her? Things to be observed? Then again, clearly the girl didn't see it that way. There were definitely those scientific types in Frostaria, especially here in the Embassy, who had a difficult time distinguishing people from projects.

Azazel smiled. "I see, so we're your test subjects then?" he jested. "I think I've heard the name Ithilwen before, but I'm not sure. Hakon here," he gestured to the Salamander, "is a rather new arrival to Zenith himself. Care to explain? Oh, and please," he said before stuffing his gruff face with a fork-full of the meat the two were enjoying. "Do ask what you want to know about Frostaria."

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