Name~ Azriel DrakeNickname/akas~ Riel by friends, Ms. Drake by most customers. Age~ FifteenDOB~ September 19Gender~ FemaleOrientation~ StraightSocial Background~ She’s more or less middle class, I suppose.Occupation~ Hard to say. She’s been raised in the trade of a smith, but as a fighter she’s undefeated. Appearance~ Moment of sunchine.Bad. Ass.These days, Azriel wouldn’t exactly pass for the typical beauty. Heck, no one else in the second ring would either. But past the scars, burns, bruises, and general dinginess of an second ringer, she could be classified as attractive. Fair hair, a fine flaxen blonde color, tumbles down about to Azriel’s breastbone in thick messy waves that are constantly tangled or pulled back in a bandanna or braid. It grows slightly darker near the roots, a light brown color that gradually lightens as it falls. Eyes a silver-grey color peep out from under thin lashes and high-arched brows, commonly taking on a thoughtful or severely analytical gaze but are more than capable of freezing someone in place or melting them entirely. A rather tanned complexion is maintained due to working with fires, not to mention a few burn scars from earlier days and regular scars from things like dropped hammers and street fights. Azriel is a tall girl, hitting about 5’11, and she’s quite lean and muscular due to work involving lots of lifting and swinging and moving. Personality~ Azriel is a confusing girl. That's all there is to it. Slightly hotheaded, tough to the core, a will as strong as an oak tree and just as stubborn- but clever, analytical, loyal to a fault. She's never been the type to listen to smartmouths, but at the right moment is more than capable of giving anyone a tongue-lashing.Now, she isn’t exactly all muscle and guts however you put it. Emotional stress in her younger days have left her scarred, working her fingers to the bone so that she can survive. It’s left her rather emotionless in the sense of love, joy, happiness, et cetera. She hasn’t felt those emotions in years- they’ve been buried deep. Likes~ A hot furnace, quiet evenings in the forge, sharp weapons, a good game of chess or poker, a hot mug of black coffee when she’s chilly.Dislikes~ Fuel shortages, guttering candles, long days, demanding customers, and the high-and-mighty inhabitants of the inner rings.Traits~ She keeps her weapons, a pair of hammers, stowed in her belt at all times. History~ Azriel’s past is fairly simple. She was born in 2203, earlier in the great war but soon enough that her life was full of it. Her father was a mechanic at the time, and he taught her all he knew before he was killed in a raid when she was seven. She’d never known her mother, and at her father’s death in 2210 she was left alone. She spent a few years on the streets, gathering junk to survive, until she met him.An old venerable blacksmith, wandering the streets in the early evening unlike many. He saw the girl, eight years old and frightened, and took pity on her. The old man brought her back to the shop, setting her up in front of the fire to warm up as he prepared a bit of his coffee for her. Confused still, she asked him many things. “Who are you? What do you do here? Will you let me stay?”“I am Jacob, the blacksmith. This is my forge, where I work metal. And yes, I will let you stay.”Old Jacob taught young Azriel all he knew of his trade, and with what her father’d taught her before he died she did well. She learned to temper, to cast, to melt, to bend. And by the time she was thirteen, she was outdoing her tutor. And it was just as well- in 2216, old Jacob died of old age and disease. Once again, Azriel was alone. So she took over the forge on her own, working the metal with a vengeance and doing it well. She knew every trick, every beat of the hammer, every puff of the bellows. Other~ RELATIONSHIPS~Old Jacob The man who taught her the ways of the forge- now deceased.
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