App for Deerington

[lovesuwithknives]

IN CHARACTER

Character Name: Azwel. Nobody knows if that's his first or last or even real name.

Canon: Soul Calibur 6

Canon Point: After the Libra of Souls storyline. He's dead, but he might not realise it, yet.

In-Game Tattoo Placement: on the neck, below the left ear.

Current Health/Status: Pretty damn good, though he might have had the crap beaten out of him recently....

Age: None given in canon. 40s or so?

Species: Human

History: https://soulcalibur.fandom.com/wiki/Azwel

CRAU History and Impact: None. Fresh new character.

Personality: Azwel initially comes across as jovial, gregarious, and melodramatic, like someone out of an old play. In fact, he peppers his speech with theatre references (though it's genuinely difficult to tell whether the writers meant that as a reference to extensive cultural experience or lazy sexuality shorthand) and superlatives in at least two other languages. He appears to have emotions running very close to the surface. Everything about him, down to the way he fights, is loud, bombastic, and grand. He's a literal Renaissance man (coming, as he does, from the late 1500s), as well as a figurative one, educated in sciences/alchemy, medicine, literature, history, tactics, magic(k) etc., and is terrifyingly intelligent. From his extensive study of human culture he came to the conclusion that the species would destroy itself through wars and greed and such. However, also because of his study of human culture, he came to the second conclusion that he could not allow that to happen. He therefore decided he'd save his beloved humanity from itself. Like any good villain worth his maniacal cackle this means said goal is accomplished with a hefty dose of amorality and even a touch of sadism (for example, he forced a bandit gang leader to slaughter the rest of the gang and then tell him how that felt. It could, however, be argued the gang leader learnt a valuable lesson in empathy....).

He could be accused of some kind of -ism or other, as one of his objectives is to rid humanity of individuals who have been mutated by a cursed magical item (Soul Edge) and an environmental phenomenon (the interdimensional rifts that pop up intermittently). Interestingly enough, in a canon populated with viable non-human species his opinion of them is never addressed [though I expect he'd have a better opinion of them than of the mutants or the undead]. One detail of note is that, among the mutants, the ones he despises are the ones who lose their humanity and become mindless. The ones who retain their thoughts and personality fascinate him, though that isn't much better, because instead of killing them outright he'll use them as test subjects, further exposing them to the mutating factors in an effort to see how far that can be pushed before they lose their sapience. He believes that there's no kind of life for a fully Malfested (as the mutants are referred to in-game) and that it's best to end it. It's true that, as a rule, Malfestation cannot be cured and it causes an individual to go on a murderous rampage. Is killing Malfesteds a kind of 'cleansing?' Is it mercy? Is it for the greater good to prevent them from murdering innocents? Azwel would say it's all of the above. This kind of conundrum is what brings this man joy.

He absolutely loves the human race. And he will repeatedly observe that to anyone within earshot. He is especially fascinated and delighted by the dichotomies of human existence--how a species capable of such creativity and beauty is also capable of such depravity and violence, the fine line everyone treads between sanity and madness, the cruelty and kindness that can be shown by a single being, and so on. That he refers to humanity as 'they' even though he is human only brings this fascination into sharper relief. Furthermore, he throws the word 'love' about with reckless abandon, dropping it into his speech the way most people use the word 'the.' Taken at face value it would appear he loves almost everyone and everything and perhaps he does--but sometimes his love can be literally pointy. Apparently he even loves his opponents! There's a touch of the zealot to him in that regard. He also has a tendency to refer to his associates as 'darling' or 'dear' ('My darling little Grøh') or use diminutives of their names (a fellow named Valtro became 'Valty,' for instance). All this points to a surface irreverence and an apparent preference for keeping people always a bit wrong-footed.

All in all, he can be best described as 'mercurial,' which appears to be intentional: whether he is hero or villain, saviour or destroyer, all depends on his mood and what end of the sharp, pointy object you happen to be on.

Abilities/Powers/Weaknesses & Warping: All of Azwel's powers appear to be combat-oriented and originating from his weapon, Palindrome (the gauntlets). It's possible that he could do a fair bit of spellcasting without them, though. He can sense when and where astral rifts will appear, as well as various other magickal energies.

Inventory: Clothing, athame, spellbook, four small belt pouches, skull fetich, one pair of gold-coloured metal gauntlets, each carrying a small piece of a supernatural sword.

Writing Samples:

https://soddersays.dreamwidth.org/13348.html?thread=2338852#cmt2338852
https://soddersays.dreamwidth.org/13348.html?thread=2401828#cmt2401828

In Which He Attempts To Leave Deerington

He has work to do. He knows he has work to do and that he can't just hang about in this strange town, wasting time. It's time to pack up his belongings and go--fortunately he hasn't collected many, so he simply straps on what he came with and walks out the door.

There may be vehicles available, but he's content to simply leave on foot. Anyone looking out their window at the street in this predawn gloaming might see the berobed figure calmly walking down the street, heading out of town. Well, there goes another one.

Azwel eventually passes the sign that reads 'NOW LEAVING DEERINGTON' and is a little puzzled at how his surroundings seem to be growing darker. Perhaps it's simply all the trees. This forest is quite thick. The road stretched before him into the horizon and the trees seem to go on forever on either side of him. Looking back, he sees the outskirts of the town and the first gleamings of sunlight on its lampposts and cars and buildings. Something tells him to turn back before he becomes lost in this darkness. At that, he stubbornly faces forward again and continues. All forests end eventually. All he has to do is keep walking.

The trees crowd closer. The light grows dimmer. The road continues, unbroken by even so much as an intersection. Keep walking.

Keep walking.

Ignore those eyes in the forest. They're simply animals. Animals are more afraid of humans than humans are of them. The thought causes a flicker of a smile. His beloved humans are, after all, the apex predators--other beasts may be larger or faster, but they cannot outlast humans in a chase. Nothing can. This thought brings him an odd kind of comfort and he continues walking. Time passes. How much time? He has no idea, there isn't anything so convenient as the sun or the moon to glance up at and determine the time from. Just darkness and the road and the trees and the eyes.

Staring.

Keep walking.

The staring eyes start to grate on Azwel's nerves and then start to worry him--what if they aren't simple animals? He's heard enough tales of monsters and other creatures to know they're very real and very near. Is that what's watching him in this dark, heavy stillness? His steps falter. He can hear his own breathing. The eyes stare and stare and stare.

"ENOUGH!" he howls, turning on the spot. He charges forward. Palindrome flashes brilliantly in the darkness, blades slicing into the forest and hitting... nothing. He stands in the darkness, amid the trees, panting slightly. The eyes are gone.

"That's that, then," he mutters, but he hasn't quite convinced himself of this fact. He returns to the road.

Keep walking.

He can scarcely see, now, it's so dark. The road before him is nothing more than a dim line. Whirling the glowing blades above his head does little to dispel the darkness, but at least he can concentrate on that instead of on this silence and the fact that he has no idea where this road is going or... why he's even on it... and those blasted eyes are back!

Azwel charges into the forest with an incoherent roar, blades swinging and flashing wildly, hitting nothing. No creatures, not even the trees. Those eyes... he can't see them but he knows they're there, watching him, watching him, and he doesn't even know where he is any longer, or what he'd set out to do--all is blood in his ears and lights in his eyes and he screams in rage and terror, countless spears and knives and swords and axes hurtle into the forest and hit nothing.

The scream dies in his throat and he stands in the grass, wheezing and sweat-soaked, hair hanging over his face and shoulders. He shivers. Stumbles backward until his feet find the road. Something rattles in his chest and before he can stop it a coughing fit seizes him.

I should go back.

Go back where?

He tastes blood. His knees buckle and he drops to the pavement, hard. But it's only a moment later when he feels something touch his face. His eyes snap open.

A spectral deer stands over him, calmly nudging his head with its nose. He hauls himself to his feet only a little unsteadily, and regards the animal, which looks calmly back at him. Then it starts walking down the road. Before he even realises what he's doing, Azwel follows the deer.

Perhaps this deer will lead me... where? Somewhere. Somewhere better than this forest and this road, perhaps?

He and the deer keep walking. Walking, walking, all he's been doing for as long as he can remember is walking. No... not for that long. One hand idly rubs his aching chest and he coughs wetly. His steps falter and the deer slows to let him catch up.

It's leading him back to town, he realises. He'd left because... because he needed to return home, to continue his work, to save humanity from itself....

He realises he can't do that, now. At least, not like this, not simply getting on the road and walking until he found another astral fissure. Some magick in this town clearly prevents that.

He shambles along the road as it grows lighter and lighter around him and the town comes into view again. A small group of masked women stand waiting for him. They watch the deer until it bounds off into the forest again. Exhaustion and a strange despair wash over Azwel for a moment as they close in around him and the utter futility of his attempt makes itself clear. They'd been waiting for him to return because they knew he would. They all do.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Player Name: Yume

Player Age: Old enough to know better. (43)

Player Contact: https://www.plurk.com/memorylikeasieve

Other Characters In Game: none

In-Game Tag If Accepted: Azwel : Yume

Permissions for Character: https://lovesuwithknives.dreamwidth.org/311.html

Are you comfortable with prominent elements of fourth-walling?: Aye, but I'd prefer to okay each instance first.

What themes of horror/psychological thrillers do you enjoy the most?: Pretty much all of them. I especially like things that'll challenge his perceptions of humanity, like body horror/gore and cosmic horror.

Is there anything in particular you absolutely need specific content warnings for?: Nope.