Deadly-Kind-Strong

Ah’Zackriel was born the second twin to the Sairengeru house, son of Mit’suoki and Natsuki Sairengeru . His brother, Kah’zuya, was born but moments before him. From the start, the two brothers were destined to change the course of the clan’s history, if only they knew what that meant back then.
 
During his early life, Ah’Zackriel took after his father as much as he could. His father was a proud warrior who defended the continent with honor and pride. He was kind and resilient, never backing down from defending their home and their people. Ah’Zackriel would spend days listening intently to his father’s stories. Ah’Zackriel desired, more than anything, to be like his father. He wanted to wield the sword in defense of his home, to bring honor and pride to his family name. Kah’zuya was different however. Born physically weaker than his twin, he was taken in by the elders to train in the arcane. It was clear from the start that he was a prodigy. His master of control over the spirits of the forest and his grasp on arcana dwarfed his rivals. He was revered by the elders for his prowess, but something still irked him. While he wielded power unrivaled, it was Ah’Zackriel who won the people’s praise. Ah’Zackriel, however, felt no such animosity, and cared for and supported his older brother. It may have been duty, it may have been respect, but something blinded Ah’Zackriel to who his brother truly was.
 
As the two boys grew older, so too did the gap. Kah’zuya became reclusive, choosing instead to engage in the arcane arts rather than the people of their clan. Ah’Zackriel, on the other hand, spent his days with the people of the village. He helped them with mundane problems, played with the other kids, and trained with their soldiers. By the time he turned thirteen, there wasn’t a person in the village who didn’t know him by name. The people cherished him and just like his father, came to love him too. Coming from the head house, Ah’Zackriel believed it was his duty to bring peace and comfort to the people his family oversaw. This mentality only ingratiated himself deeper with the clan, and soon the people began to whisper. Some began to question which brother truly was the First Brother. Others did not care, and instead believed that regardless of tradition, Ah’Zackriel should inherit the mantle of Clan Head. While Ah’Zackriel was ignorant of this talk, Kah’zuya was not. This talk infuriated him more and more, until one day he snapped.
 
Among the elders was one named Shohei. He was a mystic with the power to contact other planes of existence. Unfortunately, he was also vile and twisted. While outwardly he appeared upright and poise, he was a monster in the garb of an elf. It was from this twisted nature that he was able to feel the anger swelling inside Kah’zuya and used it to his advantage. On one spring day, he went to visit Kah’zuya in his place of study. Kah’zuya was engrossed in his research, but welcomed the elder in. It was here that the seed of evil took its root. Shohei began to plant ideas of a power outside those he knew. Of creatures with unrivaled power and fury. Kah’zuya took to it immediately and began to question the elder about these creatures. Shoehei answered the young boy’s questions, each one bringing the boy closer and closer to corruption. It was here he learned about his family's secret. While their duty was to the clan, their true purpose was to protect the seal on a cursed weapon called the Akuma no Ikari, the Devil’s Rage. Their family possessed the twin blade, the Tengoku no Hikari, Heaven’s Light. The weapons served as opposites, one to guide the light, the other to destroy it. It was here though, that Shohei’s plan took fruition. He told Kah’zuya that the true nature of the Akuma no Ikari was to bring it’s wielder that which they desired most and the clan was full of cowards afraid to wield such might. Shohei expressed that he wished that someone of “power and intellect enough to wield such a weapon,” so they could protect the clan and rule it with no fear. The seed had been planted and all Shohei had to do was wait.
 
Kah’zuya set out that night to the shrine located north of the village. Just as Shohei had described it, sealed behind wards, was a black and crimson red sword. It was surrounded in a menacing aura, filled with hate and anger. Kah’zuya was determined however, and set about disabling the wards. After hours of concentration, the last ward fell and the sword began to hum. No one knows what happened next, but here, destiny began to run its course. After returning to their home, Kah’zuya began to bring his plans to fruition.
 
Elsewhere, Ah’Zackriel spent his time differently. Now fifteen, his father began to teach him combat. Mit’suoki was a master of the Tatakai Shujin arts and with that knowledge, began to pass it down to his son. Ah’Zackriel took to them quickly, learning how to misdirect blows and punish greed in combat. Day in and day out, he practiced these skills with his father, honing the skills taught to him. It was during this time that Mit’suoki told Ah’Zackriel about the Sareingeru family’s purpose. Just as his brother learned of the Akuma no Ikari, Ah’Zackriel learned of the Tengoku no Hikari and the power it wielded. Just as with any great power, his father warned him of the draw of the blade. While it is a tool to serve to protect, it can become a tool that sways it wielder to become selfish. Here, he taught his son the greatest lesson of all. “The sword is a weapon. A tool for killing. Nothing more, nothing less. It is by the hand that wields it that it finds purpose. A sword can never grow, but a man can. In the hands of the right man, the sword becomes a symbol of peace and safety. In the hands of the wrong man, a symbol of fear and hatred. It is your duty, son, to choose which man you wish to be when you wield your sword. Will you raise it to defend, or raise it to destroy.”
 
For the next few years, Ah’Zackriel wrestled with these words. However, under the guidance of his father, he began to grasp at these words. Eventually though, his father became ill. As if under mysterious circumstances, his father began to waste away. Ah’Zackriel watched as his father went from a noble warrior to a husk. It was devastating for him, but even still he stood by his father’s side. However, one day, he passed on. Before he did though, he called his sons to his side. With his final words, he spoke to the two boys, now men. When they arrived at his bedside, he spoke. “I have spent my life in the pursuit and hope that the clan would live on after my death. I have raised both of you to be strong and resilient. I know that after my death, you will continue to watch over the clan as I did. Regardless of who the elders choose to become the Head, my hope is that you both will work together to continue the legacy I have set forth for you.”
After these words were spoken, he passed away. With that, a funeral was held and the elders were called together. With two sons, the next successor to the clan would need to be selected. The elders secluded themselves in the shrine in the center of the village while they debated the next successor. After hours of debate, one elder emerged. While he seemed himself, his mannerisms seemed odd, almost beguiled by magic. Still, he spoke to the clan as a whole. Here, the news shocked the people of the clan. In a unanimous decision, Kah’zuya was selected as the next head of the family. The rest of the clan began to question the elder’s decision, but it seemed that their words would not reach them. Still, Ah’Zackriel was happy for his brother, offering him his congratulations. Kah’zuya, however, brushed him off and awaited the ascendance ceremony.
 
The elders gathered that evening and began the ceremony. With a blessing spoken by each elder, Kah’zuya ascended to Head of the Clan. Brought before the people, they waited eagerly to hear the words of their new leader. However, the words they would hear next would shock the people. Kah’zuya’s first words for the clan were simple. “I have ascended to the head of the clan,” he spoke, his words cold and distant, “but there exists a rift. While I hold the title, I fear that opposition is inevitable. To snuff out this dissent, I make this decree not out of spite, but out of necessity. As of today, my brother Ah’Zackriel, you are banished from the clan. Your presence here serves only to tear this clan in half and I will not allow this to happen.”
 
The people of the clan were shocked, but none more than Ah’Zackriel. Naively, he believed that he and her brother were close, but his words made it clear that was not the case. At first he tried to protest, but those loyal to his brother silenced him, stating that his words were dangerous and could only destroy his father’s legacy. With no other options, Ah’Zackriel agreed to the terms. He was brought before the clan and stripped of his name, forever to be known as Ah’Zackriel, no family name would follow him. He was given one day to gather his things and leave. With only a bag, he was only allowed to take with him what he could carry. However, there was one sympathetic to him, his mother. Natsuki went to him in secret and hugged her son one more time. With tears in her eyes, she removed a bundle of cloth she had brought. Ah’Zackriel took it from her and unraveled the cloth. Inside was his father’s sword, the Tengoku no Hikari. At first he protested, saying that the sword was sacred to the clan, but his mother would hear none of it. The last words she spoke to him were simple. “I worry there is something more sinister lurking in the clan,” her words a hushed whisper, “I fear that whatever is at work seeks to destroy this sword. It will be safe in your hands, and I hope that with it, so too will your father’s legacy. I can only hope that one day, this sword will guide you to your destiny and this nightmare will become nothing more than a distant memory.”
 
With that, he grabbed his things and left during the night. For the next five years, Ah’Zackriel wandered the lands. First he left the island and headed north into the land of the dragonborn. As a wanderer, his presence garnered him a lot of attention. Still, with no home, he was free to go wherever he pleased. Aimlessly, he wandered the world, eventually becoming a mercenary for hire. He took any job that came his way, slaying bandits, aiding armies, bodyguarding. Here, he met many new and different people. Each one taught him something new. A dragonborn man named Wan Yi taught him the dragonborn language and customs during a mission to safeguard the Dragonborn noble from brigands. A halfling woman named Felicitas Leal taught him music when he traveled with her circus out of Abraisa. Finally, however, was the one person who changed his life forever. During an escort mission for the Rosewood merchant family, he met Aurora, the fourth daughter.
 
It was said that it was love at first sight, and they fell in love quickly. During their travels, she tended to his wounds when he was injured and she listened to his stories of his homeland. This time was peaceful and precious to Ah’Zackriel. She was beautiful, her blonde hair and pale skin glistened in the warm sunlight. Aurora was patient and sweet, always prepared to give her all to help people. After years of traveling together, they decided they would marry. The family was disappointed at first, for Ah’Zackriel had no money, no name, no status. However, after some time, the family came to love him as well and Aurora’s father, Gabriel Rosewood, would eventually give his blessing. The spring of that year, Ah’Zackriel and Aurora left for a small home in the countryside, which her father gave to them as a wedding present. Life was good for a while. The two spent a lot of their time together, with Ah’Zackriel and Aurora going to the village nearby and meeting the people there. They were happy and after a year or so, Aurora became pregnant.
 
While they were by no means poor, Ah’Zackriel was determined to give their child a good home and set off to earn some money before she was due. If only he knew what was to come, maybe then, he would not have left her side.
 
Ah’Zackriel took a few jobs to deal with some bandits and goblins, nothing he couldn’t handle. All that mattered to him were his wife and soon to be child. After a few months on the road and gathering coins, he headed home. Upon riding over the hill leading to the cottage, he saw smoke rising in the distance. Picking up his pace and praying to whichever god could hear him, he prayed his family was safe. His words, however, fell on deaf ears as he made it to the hill. Looking down, he saw his home ablaze, the fire already consuming his home. As quick as his legs would carry him, he ran towards his home. Breaking down the front door, he searched frantically for his wife. With the fire roaring and smoke burning his lungs, his search became increasingly difficult. Still, he could not find her anywhere in the home. His sight was fading and his head was pounding. With Aurora nowhere in sight, he tried to make his way back down the stairs. Before he could however, one of the beams from the ceiling fell on him, pinning him under it.
 
He did not know how long he had been there, but next he opened his eyes, the night sky had taken over. As his senses returned to him, he heard the sound of crunching bones. Slowly he brought himself to his feet, being careful not to alert whatever creature was there. Drawing his blade he approached. His eyes were still blurry from the blow he took, but he could still make out the shape of a monster. Its back was covered in spines, claws wrapped around a pile of meat. Stepping closer, Ah’Zackriel prepared himself and lunged at the creature. It was at this moment that things became clear. As he prepared to make the killing blow, the creature turned around. Though twisted and corrupt, it was clearly Aurora. Fangs peaked out from within the mouth and her eyes dark and distant. In this moment of hesitation, the monster lunged at him, slicing him across the chest. Poison began to seep in from the wound before the creature prepared to lunge again. Ah’Zackriel steadied himself for the attack and as the creature made its lunge, he pivoted on his feet and delivered a killing blow. As the life left Aurora’s eye, Ah’Zackriel caught her body and held her. It was here, he saw the true horror that had befallen her. Where her stomach was, in its place was a hollow pit with her entrails torn. As his eyes traveled to where he had found her, in the pile of flesh was that of a fetus. Though its body was mangled, he knew it was his child.
 
The silence of the night was broken, however, by a voice he knew all too well. Standing before him was his brother, Kah’zuya and three warriors clad in black armor from their homeland. With a sinister menace in his voice, Kah’zuya spoke. “Ah’Zackriel, I admit, it took me longer than I had expected to find you. When I learned of our mother’s treachery, I knew I had to find you. Your wife was sweet, but she was in the way. Now, give me our father’s sword and you may join her peacefully in the afterlife.”
Kah’zuya drew the Akuma no Ikari and lunged at Ah’Zackriel. Ah’Zackriel dodged, only moments before it would have sliced him. Jumping backward, he grabbed his sword and prepared for his brother's onslaught. As Kah’zuya prepared his stance, Ah’Zackriel mirrored it. In a flash, they lunged at each other, weapons prepared to kill. Their swords collided in a clash of steel, and it was here the legend of the swords were made reality. Dark and Light energy swirled and in a brilliant flash, both brothers were thrown backward. While Ah’Zackriel was left with only light injuries, his brother did not. The blast shot a blast of radiant energy towards him, burning a brand across his face. The charred half of his face smoked from the fresh wound. The knights protecting him helped steady him, but it was clear that Kah’zuya was weak. With a spiteful curse, he looked towards Ah’Zackriel and said, “One day I will find you again. When I do, I will take everything from you and take back our father’s sword. I promise you this, brother.”
 
Kah’zuya and his men left, leaving Ah’Zackriel in the charred waist of his home. For hours, he sat in their remains, holding the corpse of his wife. He wept until the sun came up, shouting at the gods for abandoning his wife. Still, he heard no reply. Pulling himself to his feet, he dug a grave for his wife and child with his bare hands and set up small headstones. Gathering what he could, he grabbed his pack once more and set out. From that day forward, he swore that he would find his brother and bring him to justice. Now, he journeys around the world, following any and all rumors to the location of the “elf with the scarred face.”

Age

68 yrs old

Date of Birth

24th of Trentus

Gender

Male

Eyes

Sky Blue

Hair

Snow white

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Light tan

Height

6ft

Weight

135lbs