Azzo
Aug 6, 2007 20:21:35 GMT -5
Post by Azzo on Aug 6, 2007 20:21:35 GMT -5
Full Name: Azzo Leum (His last name was for a memorial to his Uncle Leum)
Other name: Ususually referred to plain "Azzo", but many have a tendency to call him just "The werecat", (mainly that agrivates him.) When he's in his human form, looking exactly like one except for his sharp teeth, he ususally calls himself by "Kai Matou."
Race:: Werecat
Side: He's with the Varden.
Birthplace: Azzo was born in a small place known as Ceunon, a town on the boarder of the Anora River.
Age: About 24 years old.
Gender: Male, or tom to be precise. Tomcat.
Birthday: Azzo was born in mid Spring on the thirtieth day of April.
Eyes: Dark, blood red eyes.
Hair: Azzo has dusty brown fur, ususally unkept and spiky all over the place. The fur surrounding his eyes is jet black, making it look like he has a mask of some sort. In his human form, he has the same spiky brown hair with a bit of black on the ends of his bangs, which normally hang over his eyes.
Weight: Azzo, being a werecat, weighs 16 pounds, not much more than a small toddler. As a human, he weighs about 60 lbs, still not a lot. But then again, he looks a lot like a young boy when he's in his human form.
Height: In his cat form, about the same size as a Siamese cat. In his human form, Azzo is about 5 ft, 11 inches.
Magic User: Technically yes, being that werecats are naturally gifted with magical powers. Though he rarely taps into that power, much based on the fact that he doesn't know how. Another reason is that he usually relies on another wepon, a hatchet.
Clothing: Azzo's cat form- There are two black feathers hanging from his left ear by a small metal hook if you can define that as clothing. He never takes it off, only to attach it to his hair instead of his ear when he's in his other form. Another thing he wears as a cat is a black bandana tied around his neck. Like the feathers, he never takes them off. And since they go well in his human form, you'd have to be mad to try and get him to take it off. Azzo's human form- As a human, well, looking like one really, he wears light blue pants, a silvery gray shirt, black boots, and black, silver backed gloves.
Preferred Weapon(s): There is only one wepon suited for Azzo: his own hatchet. This hatchet is like normal ones, a red gleaming metal with a white stripe down the side. Though he does have other wepons, being his own claws and teeth, he favors his hatchet most. It's handle is of finely carved wood with a leather strap hanging from the bottom.
Personality: In a few words, Azzo is really a mischevious, fun loving (which is normally to others' expense), headstrong, pride obsessed kind of werecat. His favorite thing to do is to annoy and confuse others, giving anything but the whole truth. Not that he won't let a few words pass him, but usually, you'd have to strangle the entire thing out of him. Azzo messes with other people's heads, mainly noble men, trying to trick them into giving him something. Like this, he'd say he was their conscience in hope that they'd give him a slice of their food. It's fun, and as I said before, Azzo's fun is to others' expense. But he doesn't always sit around all day playing and fooling around, no no no. Working for the Varden, it's practically his job to go to other villages and towns to find out information. Sort of like a sneak, he forces himself not to fool around and find out what's going on with Gallbatorix, which he fondly enjoys doing. Everything to him is like a game, having fun and doing crazy stunts is apart of it. Michevious as he is, there are very few times when he's serious, and that'll only be when something is wrong. That's the only time he'll forget his childish antics and prove his loyalty, which is surprisingly strong for a werecat like himself.
Likes/Dislikes: Obviously, he likes playing around with other people's minds. Disturbing them, bugging around like an annoying fly, it's what he does best. Azzo loves fooling about, prying into other people's buisness and playing tricks. But, there are other things that positively irk him beyond no end. One would be when he's referred as plainly "cat" and "werecat." I mean, who would like being treated as if you weren't there, or were a pointless object? When called these things, he has half a mind to claw the person's face, which has happened a couple times... Another is being picked up by an unknown person. He reacts badly, angry that someone would give him such an indignity. Mainly, he just hates anyone or anything lowering his dignity, a furious blow on his pride as if you had struck him.
Family: Ofcourse, everyone has a mother and a father. One wouldn't be there if they didn't. But, to Azzo, that was all his parents ever were. Someone that had made him basically. He grew up never knowing them, raised by his Uncle Leum, a shabby black werecat with unusually large, even by a werecat's standards, paws. Uncle Leum told him once that his parents had been named Selum (his mother) and Scarl (his father.) But that's all he knew about them, nothing more nothing less. Never was he told what their names were, but he did have a brother that lived with him and his uncle for a short term. Trega was his name.
Brief History: There are some things that even Azzo does not remember, but it, as always, should be shared. His furthest recall is his Uncle raising him, but it would be safe to be known by others in this bio.
Very well, Azzo was born right on the edge of Ceunon, next to the river of Anora. His mother, Selum, gave birth to him and his brother Trega, and they started their lives as newborn werekits. Unfortunately though, Selum could not bear her kits in a worse place. A Ceunon citizen, a 17 year old man, thought it would be fun to "mess around" with Azzo and Trega. He had never seen a cat, much less a werecat, before, so he tried holding Trega by the tail. Squealing in pain, Selum, though weak from her labor, flung herself at him. The man, utterly startled, let go of Trega and took out his knife to defend himself from the mad she-cat. But it was a bad error, the knife plunged straight into their mother's heart as she'd leaped, her eyes sinking in, she fell like a cold stone to the ground. Enraged from his love's death, Scarl threw himself as well at the man. Too late to defend himself, Scarl clawed and clawed, forgetting he could just kill him in his human form. He clawed his eyes out, which led to a death by the man's brother, a pole hit their father's head. It cracked open his skull, and he too sat lifeless next to the limp form of Selum. The brother of the man sobbed heavily, taking a long time to notice Trega and Azzo. Saddened by what happened, but unable to make himself take his grief out on the werekits, he dumped them on the outskirts. But there had been a stranger nearby, a shabby boy with black hair. This, as it happened to be, was actually Azzo's uncle, Leum. Leum had not done anything because he knew it would be pointless, Scarl and Selum had been killed before he'd gotten there. He'd been held up by the crowd of people, and scared of being stepped on, he went in his human form. When he arrived, he'd found the limp bodies of his sister and her lover sprawled on the ground, a pool of blood lapping at their once sleek coats. Though angered by what had happened, he did not take his rage out on the men that had murdered them. It would be pointless, fighting only lead to what lay in front of him: death. So, instead of killing the men, Leum set out to find his sister's kits. He found the small werekits after about an hour or so, wailing their hunger. Turning back into a werecat, the black cat took his nephews away, hoping he would never have to tell them what had befallen their parents.
In the years to come, he fed them, played with them, taught them, but he never told them of what had happened to poor Selum and Scarl. Eventually, they grew up, traveling all the time for they had no place to call their own. When Azzo and Trega turned 16 on the thirtieth of May, they decided to go play at the Ramr River near Bullridge without Leum's knowledge. It had been Azzo's idea. It sounded like fun, and perhaps they could catch a fish or two. They were skinny and hungry, and the idea of any food, even if it wasn't red meat, sounded appealing. So they went down to the edge of the river, their pink tongues licking their lips in anticipation. Trega was a better hunter than Azzo, so he pushed his brother aside when he attempted to take a fish's life. "Let me do that," he'd said, sticking his nose high up in the air. "I'm the better hunter." An annoyed, but well reasoned Azzo oblidged, but ever so reluctantly. It was always infurating when his brother said he was better at more things than him. So Trega tried and tried, and about four turns later, it happened. He'd bitter off a bit more than he could chew, parsay, and chosen a huge fish to hunt. It was silver scaled with a flapping tail, splashing water everywhere. When his brother plunged in, the fish lurched upwards, knocking Trega off guard. The werecat tumbled into the water, leaving Azzo to scramble towards the side, looking desperately to where he could be. Uncle Lemus was quicker though, he'd found out where his nephews had gone. He shot into the water like a rocket, a stunned Azzo watching in awe. Lemus was dragged under from the weight of Trega and the fish, and it took many minutes for them to come back up. His uncle was spluttering, coughing up bellows of water, trying to make rebukes at Azzo and Trega in the proccess. But he hadn't realized, nor did Azzo for that matter, what was wrong with his nephew. Trega wasn't coughing up water, he wasn't doing anything. He lay stiff as a board, unmoving, his eyes glassy and unknowing. Trega, Azzo's beloved brother, was dead.
The next few months they labored on, too tired and exhausted to really do anything. Uncle Lemus was in a shock, depressed beyond anything Azzo had ever seen before. They rarely spoke to one another now, and it would only be a "Watch your step, Uncle Lemus," or "Be careful of that ditch, sir." Uncle Lemus didn't speak much, it would be long periods of time before he did. One night in late winter, the snowy breeze casting away the small sparks of fire they'd made. Sighing, Azzo had curled up into a ball, ready for an restless night. It was his turn to guard the campsite, though there wasn't much to defend. Just to watch out for any dangers that could harm himself and Lemus. It was early in the morning when he heard cawing noise. Taking it as a crow, Azzo had merely flattened his ears against his head, not taking it as anything but an annoyance. How wrong, terribly terribly wrong he was to misunderstand it. It hadn't been just a cawing bird, it'd been a warning. Hunters, hunters, HUNTERS!! The bird cawed once more, making Azzo get on wobbly paws, trying to fight of the sleepiness within him. Too late, he realized later on, that the humans surounded them. Werecats were very rare, and selling them to the market would make one very, very rich. So obviously, they set out to take them. Startled, Azzo had let out a yowl and fallen backwards as a knife had slid right past him, whipping his whiskers towards the dead fire. Immediately alerted of his whereabouts, a vicious looking poacher grinned at him, pulling out his large meaty hands from behind his back. He gripped him firmly by his neck, making it impossible for him to transform into a human. Gasping and struggling to breath, black spots danced before his eyes. This is it, Azzo remembered thinking, I've played my game and now I've lost! But dimly he remember a scrawnier looking human coming up behind the man, with a hatchet in hand. It struck him across the head, blood spurting out. "Run, Azzo, run and never look back!" It was the unexpicable voice of his uncle, and once the hunter let go, Azzo ran for his life. His paws carried him out of camp, and he only looked back once. There were four figures, the scrawnier one fighting back the others. But there was a clang of metal, and the boy fell limply to the ground, shrinking back into the shabby black cat, his blood splattering the dusty earth. Azzo turned and never again looked back.
The next few years Azzo wandered alone across Algaesia, his mind clouded by the moments of Trega's death and Lemus's death. Sobbing quietly, he came across the town of Buragh. He went in as a human, tears flooding his eyes every once in a while. Some people looked at him strangely, but he paid no heed. He only walked across the town, hoping for some sort of a miracle. There was a whisper word of a rebellion to overthrow the king, and it caught his interest. The bar tender kept saying, "I don't know, Abus, it's mighty dangerous of 'em to try. King Galbatorix will have each of their heads if he catches them, and after the batte of the Burning Plains the Varden are surely..." Azzo ran out of the bar before the man could say more. The Burning Plains... The thought kept echoing in his mind, and he knew, deep down, this is where he had to go. He traveled for many days until he came across a ravaged place. A ship had set anchor, though it looked abandoned. In the distance, Azzo could see there were huge tents set up and beyond that, many shrunken forms that he could've guessed were bodies. "The Varden.." He'd whispered, and set off towards the place. It was like an unknown source telling him that this is where he needed to go. He arrived there, panting and exhausted, meeting a frightening looking a woman. He felt a strong urge to hit her when she said she was going to probe his mind for any dangers, but Azzo resisted it. He was going to help, no matter the cost. He'd lost everything and he only had enough to gain. Before she did it though, he morphed back into his cat form, and his words echoed in her head, "I'm ready." From that day on, after many snorts of disgust at another werecat on the prowl, he lived with the Varden.
Anything extra: Azzo isn't the strongest werecat, he's actually quite scrawny. His body is built to get into small places, which does well since he likes to go along and squeeze information out of people. Also, his front paws are black with a few scars around his toes.
Other name: Ususually referred to plain "Azzo", but many have a tendency to call him just "The werecat", (mainly that agrivates him.) When he's in his human form, looking exactly like one except for his sharp teeth, he ususally calls himself by "Kai Matou."
Race:: Werecat
Side: He's with the Varden.
Birthplace: Azzo was born in a small place known as Ceunon, a town on the boarder of the Anora River.
Age: About 24 years old.
Gender: Male, or tom to be precise. Tomcat.
Birthday: Azzo was born in mid Spring on the thirtieth day of April.
Eyes: Dark, blood red eyes.
Hair: Azzo has dusty brown fur, ususally unkept and spiky all over the place. The fur surrounding his eyes is jet black, making it look like he has a mask of some sort. In his human form, he has the same spiky brown hair with a bit of black on the ends of his bangs, which normally hang over his eyes.
Weight: Azzo, being a werecat, weighs 16 pounds, not much more than a small toddler. As a human, he weighs about 60 lbs, still not a lot. But then again, he looks a lot like a young boy when he's in his human form.
Height: In his cat form, about the same size as a Siamese cat. In his human form, Azzo is about 5 ft, 11 inches.
Magic User: Technically yes, being that werecats are naturally gifted with magical powers. Though he rarely taps into that power, much based on the fact that he doesn't know how. Another reason is that he usually relies on another wepon, a hatchet.
Clothing: Azzo's cat form- There are two black feathers hanging from his left ear by a small metal hook if you can define that as clothing. He never takes it off, only to attach it to his hair instead of his ear when he's in his other form. Another thing he wears as a cat is a black bandana tied around his neck. Like the feathers, he never takes them off. And since they go well in his human form, you'd have to be mad to try and get him to take it off. Azzo's human form- As a human, well, looking like one really, he wears light blue pants, a silvery gray shirt, black boots, and black, silver backed gloves.
Preferred Weapon(s): There is only one wepon suited for Azzo: his own hatchet. This hatchet is like normal ones, a red gleaming metal with a white stripe down the side. Though he does have other wepons, being his own claws and teeth, he favors his hatchet most. It's handle is of finely carved wood with a leather strap hanging from the bottom.
Personality: In a few words, Azzo is really a mischevious, fun loving (which is normally to others' expense), headstrong, pride obsessed kind of werecat. His favorite thing to do is to annoy and confuse others, giving anything but the whole truth. Not that he won't let a few words pass him, but usually, you'd have to strangle the entire thing out of him. Azzo messes with other people's heads, mainly noble men, trying to trick them into giving him something. Like this, he'd say he was their conscience in hope that they'd give him a slice of their food. It's fun, and as I said before, Azzo's fun is to others' expense. But he doesn't always sit around all day playing and fooling around, no no no. Working for the Varden, it's practically his job to go to other villages and towns to find out information. Sort of like a sneak, he forces himself not to fool around and find out what's going on with Gallbatorix, which he fondly enjoys doing. Everything to him is like a game, having fun and doing crazy stunts is apart of it. Michevious as he is, there are very few times when he's serious, and that'll only be when something is wrong. That's the only time he'll forget his childish antics and prove his loyalty, which is surprisingly strong for a werecat like himself.
Likes/Dislikes: Obviously, he likes playing around with other people's minds. Disturbing them, bugging around like an annoying fly, it's what he does best. Azzo loves fooling about, prying into other people's buisness and playing tricks. But, there are other things that positively irk him beyond no end. One would be when he's referred as plainly "cat" and "werecat." I mean, who would like being treated as if you weren't there, or were a pointless object? When called these things, he has half a mind to claw the person's face, which has happened a couple times... Another is being picked up by an unknown person. He reacts badly, angry that someone would give him such an indignity. Mainly, he just hates anyone or anything lowering his dignity, a furious blow on his pride as if you had struck him.
Family: Ofcourse, everyone has a mother and a father. One wouldn't be there if they didn't. But, to Azzo, that was all his parents ever were. Someone that had made him basically. He grew up never knowing them, raised by his Uncle Leum, a shabby black werecat with unusually large, even by a werecat's standards, paws. Uncle Leum told him once that his parents had been named Selum (his mother) and Scarl (his father.) But that's all he knew about them, nothing more nothing less. Never was he told what their names were, but he did have a brother that lived with him and his uncle for a short term. Trega was his name.
Brief History: There are some things that even Azzo does not remember, but it, as always, should be shared. His furthest recall is his Uncle raising him, but it would be safe to be known by others in this bio.
Very well, Azzo was born right on the edge of Ceunon, next to the river of Anora. His mother, Selum, gave birth to him and his brother Trega, and they started their lives as newborn werekits. Unfortunately though, Selum could not bear her kits in a worse place. A Ceunon citizen, a 17 year old man, thought it would be fun to "mess around" with Azzo and Trega. He had never seen a cat, much less a werecat, before, so he tried holding Trega by the tail. Squealing in pain, Selum, though weak from her labor, flung herself at him. The man, utterly startled, let go of Trega and took out his knife to defend himself from the mad she-cat. But it was a bad error, the knife plunged straight into their mother's heart as she'd leaped, her eyes sinking in, she fell like a cold stone to the ground. Enraged from his love's death, Scarl threw himself as well at the man. Too late to defend himself, Scarl clawed and clawed, forgetting he could just kill him in his human form. He clawed his eyes out, which led to a death by the man's brother, a pole hit their father's head. It cracked open his skull, and he too sat lifeless next to the limp form of Selum. The brother of the man sobbed heavily, taking a long time to notice Trega and Azzo. Saddened by what happened, but unable to make himself take his grief out on the werekits, he dumped them on the outskirts. But there had been a stranger nearby, a shabby boy with black hair. This, as it happened to be, was actually Azzo's uncle, Leum. Leum had not done anything because he knew it would be pointless, Scarl and Selum had been killed before he'd gotten there. He'd been held up by the crowd of people, and scared of being stepped on, he went in his human form. When he arrived, he'd found the limp bodies of his sister and her lover sprawled on the ground, a pool of blood lapping at their once sleek coats. Though angered by what had happened, he did not take his rage out on the men that had murdered them. It would be pointless, fighting only lead to what lay in front of him: death. So, instead of killing the men, Leum set out to find his sister's kits. He found the small werekits after about an hour or so, wailing their hunger. Turning back into a werecat, the black cat took his nephews away, hoping he would never have to tell them what had befallen their parents.
In the years to come, he fed them, played with them, taught them, but he never told them of what had happened to poor Selum and Scarl. Eventually, they grew up, traveling all the time for they had no place to call their own. When Azzo and Trega turned 16 on the thirtieth of May, they decided to go play at the Ramr River near Bullridge without Leum's knowledge. It had been Azzo's idea. It sounded like fun, and perhaps they could catch a fish or two. They were skinny and hungry, and the idea of any food, even if it wasn't red meat, sounded appealing. So they went down to the edge of the river, their pink tongues licking their lips in anticipation. Trega was a better hunter than Azzo, so he pushed his brother aside when he attempted to take a fish's life. "Let me do that," he'd said, sticking his nose high up in the air. "I'm the better hunter." An annoyed, but well reasoned Azzo oblidged, but ever so reluctantly. It was always infurating when his brother said he was better at more things than him. So Trega tried and tried, and about four turns later, it happened. He'd bitter off a bit more than he could chew, parsay, and chosen a huge fish to hunt. It was silver scaled with a flapping tail, splashing water everywhere. When his brother plunged in, the fish lurched upwards, knocking Trega off guard. The werecat tumbled into the water, leaving Azzo to scramble towards the side, looking desperately to where he could be. Uncle Lemus was quicker though, he'd found out where his nephews had gone. He shot into the water like a rocket, a stunned Azzo watching in awe. Lemus was dragged under from the weight of Trega and the fish, and it took many minutes for them to come back up. His uncle was spluttering, coughing up bellows of water, trying to make rebukes at Azzo and Trega in the proccess. But he hadn't realized, nor did Azzo for that matter, what was wrong with his nephew. Trega wasn't coughing up water, he wasn't doing anything. He lay stiff as a board, unmoving, his eyes glassy and unknowing. Trega, Azzo's beloved brother, was dead.
The next few months they labored on, too tired and exhausted to really do anything. Uncle Lemus was in a shock, depressed beyond anything Azzo had ever seen before. They rarely spoke to one another now, and it would only be a "Watch your step, Uncle Lemus," or "Be careful of that ditch, sir." Uncle Lemus didn't speak much, it would be long periods of time before he did. One night in late winter, the snowy breeze casting away the small sparks of fire they'd made. Sighing, Azzo had curled up into a ball, ready for an restless night. It was his turn to guard the campsite, though there wasn't much to defend. Just to watch out for any dangers that could harm himself and Lemus. It was early in the morning when he heard cawing noise. Taking it as a crow, Azzo had merely flattened his ears against his head, not taking it as anything but an annoyance. How wrong, terribly terribly wrong he was to misunderstand it. It hadn't been just a cawing bird, it'd been a warning. Hunters, hunters, HUNTERS!! The bird cawed once more, making Azzo get on wobbly paws, trying to fight of the sleepiness within him. Too late, he realized later on, that the humans surounded them. Werecats were very rare, and selling them to the market would make one very, very rich. So obviously, they set out to take them. Startled, Azzo had let out a yowl and fallen backwards as a knife had slid right past him, whipping his whiskers towards the dead fire. Immediately alerted of his whereabouts, a vicious looking poacher grinned at him, pulling out his large meaty hands from behind his back. He gripped him firmly by his neck, making it impossible for him to transform into a human. Gasping and struggling to breath, black spots danced before his eyes. This is it, Azzo remembered thinking, I've played my game and now I've lost! But dimly he remember a scrawnier looking human coming up behind the man, with a hatchet in hand. It struck him across the head, blood spurting out. "Run, Azzo, run and never look back!" It was the unexpicable voice of his uncle, and once the hunter let go, Azzo ran for his life. His paws carried him out of camp, and he only looked back once. There were four figures, the scrawnier one fighting back the others. But there was a clang of metal, and the boy fell limply to the ground, shrinking back into the shabby black cat, his blood splattering the dusty earth. Azzo turned and never again looked back.
The next few years Azzo wandered alone across Algaesia, his mind clouded by the moments of Trega's death and Lemus's death. Sobbing quietly, he came across the town of Buragh. He went in as a human, tears flooding his eyes every once in a while. Some people looked at him strangely, but he paid no heed. He only walked across the town, hoping for some sort of a miracle. There was a whisper word of a rebellion to overthrow the king, and it caught his interest. The bar tender kept saying, "I don't know, Abus, it's mighty dangerous of 'em to try. King Galbatorix will have each of their heads if he catches them, and after the batte of the Burning Plains the Varden are surely..." Azzo ran out of the bar before the man could say more. The Burning Plains... The thought kept echoing in his mind, and he knew, deep down, this is where he had to go. He traveled for many days until he came across a ravaged place. A ship had set anchor, though it looked abandoned. In the distance, Azzo could see there were huge tents set up and beyond that, many shrunken forms that he could've guessed were bodies. "The Varden.." He'd whispered, and set off towards the place. It was like an unknown source telling him that this is where he needed to go. He arrived there, panting and exhausted, meeting a frightening looking a woman. He felt a strong urge to hit her when she said she was going to probe his mind for any dangers, but Azzo resisted it. He was going to help, no matter the cost. He'd lost everything and he only had enough to gain. Before she did it though, he morphed back into his cat form, and his words echoed in her head, "I'm ready." From that day on, after many snorts of disgust at another werecat on the prowl, he lived with the Varden.
Anything extra: Azzo isn't the strongest werecat, he's actually quite scrawny. His body is built to get into small places, which does well since he likes to go along and squeeze information out of people. Also, his front paws are black with a few scars around his toes.
