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Ah yes, that too ^^

Umm...sorry for the half-assed application, my writing is pretty bad sweatdrop I'm not sure how I'm going to enter the rp because I want my character as a lawful evil...if you'll take me, that is.

Gaia Name: Sephora_Demassi
Character Name: Azriel
Age: About 150 (in Tiefling years, appearance is a 25 year old woman)
Race: Tiefling
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Class: Mystic
Second Class: Psychic
Third Class: Swashbuckler
Fourth Class: Special ((Approved by Chaos Sakura))

Weapons:

Favoring tradition over modern machinery, Azriel regards weapons such as guns to be sinful and vestiges
of physical weakness. She uses a longsword known as "Abkommen," which has been used for centuries by her ancestors in combat and has lived through much strain in war. Its blade is pure sapphire and onyx, crafted together by elf blacksmiths and
sealed with magic to keep it strong and sharp. The handle is gilded with silver in the shape of a screaming phoenix head,
with poisonous spikes placed cleverly right beneath the blade so that if it sinks deep enough into the flesh, Azriel is able to twist it vertically into the victim's body, further crippling them with the venom. She is adept at magic, being a Mystic, especially in the darker aspects of sorcery. Also a psychic, she has limited skills, such as the rare ability to read a person's mind (not all the time however) and determine their alignment by their aura. Azriel is not physically strong, however, and becomes faint or ill after walking too long, rumored to be because of her Tiefling heritage and its extreme exposure to the Dark Arts.

Appearance:

Azriel has burgundy curls that flow past her waist and sweep the ground while she walks, almond-shaped eyes and an extremely pale complexion, making her constantly appear deathly ill. Her eyes, while usually a sharp, cat-like amber, have a permanent, amethyst gleam to them, due to lack of oxygen at birth because of her mother's failed attempts to strangle her. However, like every Tiefling, she also has a glow to her features, giving her a supernatural sort of appearance to those whom first see her. She is short at 5'2'' and is somewhat thin with a curvaceous frame, and is known to have lured men with her delicate features and using them to her advantage. Her attire is almost man-like, as she wears suits often that tighten around her feminine figure and is partial to slacks and pinstripe. She usually wears pinstripe vests with some sort of flower on the chest and pleated skirts underneath, as well as leather boots, or even German Nazi coats and swastika symbols upon casual clothing. Azriel has a religious tattoo on the side of her neck in an X-symbol with two circles outlined around it, a symbol to the
Shadow and its thinning, which she has made a deity out of and worships fervently with her cult.

Personality:

A religious fanatic of her own established cult, Azriel deeply admires unconventional and often insane thinkers of the past, such as Adolf
Hitler and Machiavelli. Her cult is part of a larger conglomerate that has been making pacts with demons to acquire magical
power to strengthen their company and allow them to experiment on beings coming from the shadow. Quoting "The Prince"
regularly, she believes that tyranny is the only way of ruling, and despises the compassionate and their inability to control
their emotions. Azriel is not completely in her right mind, as she believes the Shadow has come back to this world to call its faithful subjects to a religious crusade against the weak and invalid of humanity, and its thinning should be encouraged as the beginning of a New Era and the "cleaning of the Earth, replacing the creatures of the Shadow with the weak," she being the messenger of this New Era. Because of this she has deeply racist views, disgusted by orcs, elves and any half-breeds whom do not submit to the teachings of her Shadow deity. Any who oppose the Shadow and its thinning she will question, and if they speak "heresy," she will try to kill them. However, Azriel holds her own morals, such as never killing an unarmed opponent, never killing a child in cold blood and never submitting to arrogance unless it is for the good of the Shadow and its crusade.
Azriel is cool, calm and collected, and is not a stupid Tiefling; she is one of the smartest of her race and refuses to
allow the need of vengeance to warp her acquiring of her intended goals.
She is extremely good-looking, an exceptionally well speaker and thinker, and knows many things of the world, especially Shadowkind and the mundane.

History:

It was a century ago, but it still seems like eternity. I can still smell my mother's perfume, I can feel her discarding me on the ground with every stroke of her fist she took into my body. I can still feel the coldness of the alley floor, the slippery fabric against
the blood caking my flesh, like a slow molasses leaving my body in the form of my life.

A little girl whimpered, face-down on the ground, her broken nose buried into the cement, scruffy burgundy hair covering her tiny almond eyes. They were a jagged pink from her continued sobbing, her tears traveling down in salty canals across the ground and down her pearl white cheeks to touch her trembling, split lip. She was sure her mother had torn off her black wings, as they had just recently sprouted from her upper back while she slept-an emblem of a true Tiefling, which, to her mother had made her nothing but a worthless, vile insect grown from a dirt-infested larvae that at this time must be stamped out.
Willing to open one aching eye, her vision blurred by the tears that fell-those damn tears, when would they ever stop?-she saw a small but noticeable clump of charcoal feathers, discarded carelessly against the nearest dumpster. It was her wings-those little ragged feathers that bent against one another in an insignificant ball of fuzz. They looked like the remains of a crow, of
a raven shot down to the ground, patches of blood strewn along their tips. The girl could make out traces of ivory in the mottled ebony and scarlet of her wings, and realized in horror that it had been part of her backbone, torn viciously off of her body. Her shattered ligaments now shrieked in pain inside of her tiny body, the open wounds throbbing in a crescendo of utter pain that caused her to cringe and bury herself deeper within the cement. She was insignificant now; a vessel of her former self, a dreg of a tangible being that she realized was now set to die.

"You worthless little scum," The quivering voice of her mother hissed above her, and she could feel its icy undertones gripping
her with a looming sense of foreboding,

"How dare you grow those-those things! It has been centuries, centuries of my living in this damned place,
taken from my home and into this dark corner of the world...and then I began to raise you, and you've been nothing
but a burden on my back. I have torn my wings years ago in an effort to keep you warm, in an effort to raise you as if you
were human! And look at you...look at those,"

As a trembling finger pointed at the wings that had been torn from her body, Azriel turned her head the other way towards the illuminated world outside. Before her a tapestry of sidewalks and budding flowers and homes stood tantalizingly on the borderline of her vision, an apple always ripe for the taking that she wished she had enough courage to pick, to bite full and regretless into. She wanted to stare at anything but her mother and this scene before her, this part of her life that she so dearly wished she could amputate from her soul and pretend it had all been a foolish dream.

"You'll pay attention to me when I speak to you, you piece of s**t!"

Soon something gripped her, so strong and terrible that she felt as if she were surely about to die. Coldness sunk deep into her skin, as she cried and screamed to herself in agony, a coldness that seized every inch, every precious cell of her body and seemed to shatter it into pieces. The emerald green of the spell cast upon the young Tiefling coiled around her eyes and her lips and forced its way into her lungs, piercing them with the intensity of blades skewering her whole. And she was trapped, the icy coldness and the suffocation emanating throughout her like a complete and utter manifestation of death, and she knew that her mother was killing her. Azriel knew that she was now going to die, and it was completely out of her control, that she would be no more than a pile of bones along the unknowing world, shrouded forever in the darkness, even lesser than an animal, lesser than an insect.

I am going to die. I am going to die and nobody will hear me scream.

And then, suddenly, everything came to an end. Everything except for the eternal nightfall.

Even as the girl opened her eyes, expecting to see the alleyway around her, her mother's enraged face, her broken wings...anything that seemed relevant to what she had been raised to see each and every day of her life, she found that she saw nothing but a dark, winding abyss before her, engulfing her mind, body and soul. The child opened her mouth to speak, but she found that nothing came out but the softest of whimpers, and in this sea of darkness that coalesced and twisted around her being it merely echoed once before evaporating soundlessly into the thin air.

"Azriel."

A voice in the darkness.

Who's there? Where am I? What are you? Why am I here...?

Her thoughts drifted into the sea of nothingness around her, flimsy and sounding unbelievably foolish to her ears. She was dead, of course. Why would she have any reason to survive? She had been killed by a Dark spell, she had been condemned to nothingness. She was not in purgatory, heaven or hell; she was inside of the bleak nothingness of her deceased mind.
Of course, that had to be where she was, where else would she be? She most certainly wasn't alive...

"But you are, Azriel. All these years you have been dead...but now I will bring you to life."

This had taken her by surprise, filling her already numbed emotions with a sense of prickling, distorted fear. Where the hell was she? What was happening to her? She struggled to move, yet her muscles contracted painfully within her body, and she held herself still for another horrible moment, forcing herself to calm down and listen to what this booming voice within her was telling her.

"You would have died if I haven't found you. I finally found you...and you are more than a creature to me. You are my child,
Azriel. You are my body and soul."

The young girl's mind reeled into an enigmatic contortion of severed thoughts. Her eyes began to focus around the abyss that surrounded her, and she began to see the outline of a man within the Shadows that had taken her hostage into its fierce embrace. She watched as the outline of a human form stretched its hand to her, and she felt something strike her heart with a sudden flare of intensity.

He was accepting her. She had never felt accepted before, and here he was, giving her a home in his rescue of her, giving her a past...a present, a future. These were elements of a dream that she never thought she could acquire, always ending in a requiem as she brought herself to reality each morning. But now...now was different.

She didn't care where her mother was at this moment, she didn't care where she was. All she cared about was that someone found her a significant part of the world, and it brought happiness to her heart that she could never have explained with what she had experienced the feeling of acceptance that brought her an unbelievable ecstasy. This-person-had saved her life, and was offering to shelter her for the remainder...but what was he? What did she call him?

As the days passed and Azriel began to grow stronger, she ventured out into the world known as Earth, perceived as a human because of her missing wings. She dabbled with the Dark Arts and gained control of the magic that ran through a Tiefling's veins. And she owed all of this to the man who had helped her and given her a home, an identity...

He called himself the Shadow. And she worshipped him as a deity, carrying out his wishes that she would cleanse humanity of its sinners and bring a rebirth to the world through death.

Azriel works currently under Draco Industries, second-in-command only to Franz Draco. She and Franz make up partial leadership for the Industries, as Carlton Ashe and Dr. Astrid Kolgrim follow them in order of power. The Industries is dedicated to Shadow Hunting and killing Shadowkind in order to acquire their magical abilities. However, Azriel has her own agenda in mind...

Bah...

Don't know what to do.

Side note: RE4 is greatness.

whee Thanks? I dunno, I just felt like I didn't put much into it oo; But I'm glad you thought it wasn't half-assed heart

Oooh...mystery...*makes scary face*

Ooh...mystery...

*splat*

Myesss! Random sound effects are grand...

*BAM!*

*smush*

Smushing 3nodding It is your god. Worship it ^^