ChilRev: Azrael

Below, you’ll find Azrael, a black metal musician whose concept came directly from the comments section of previous blog posts (thanks, Paul Smith!). Eddy took the core concept and cleaned it up a bit for publication, then I went through and made a few adjustments to take into account the greater directions of the book.

Originally, Azrael was a Brujah. As you might suspect, though, Children of the Revolution has a great many Brujah, so part of my development work has been to consider the individual concepts and see if we can adjust those to give a greater spread of clan perspectives. Azrael became a Setite, in fact, because it was a good fit for the geographical location in which his background was built. The idea that the Setites have some of their power in the Scandinavian countries has been a part of the clan lore since the Revised era, and the Followers of Set’s serpent iconography lends itself well to the idea of Jormungandr encircling the world.

In the end, the cool character concept meshed well with the clan presence in the setting and resulted in a guy I think you’ll find unique.

<1>Azrael

<n>The easy definition of “black metal” is a genre of heavy metal popularized by a fast tempo, screaming vocals, distorted guitar, and a strong DIY aesthetic. But the roots of the movement are much more ideological — sincere Satanism, neo-Nazi ideology, and outright aggression against organized Christianity. Black metal is angry at anything and everything, and Norway in the early 1990s was the center of this passionate revolution against the trappings of so-called “morality.” And Azrael was right in the middle of it all.

He was born in 1970 as Sven Fortinbras, to poor Norwegian parents in Bergen. An exceptionally intelligent child, Sven grew up watching his family work hard to earn whatever money they could to get by. Day after day his mother and father would come home, bone-weary after another day of back-breaking work, only to have a small dinner of cheap, easily prepared food. Every night they prayed to God, thanking them for what little they had. It was a subsistence life, Sven realized as an early teenager, an unexamined state little more than animal instinct.

Azrael’s disgust with the situation he and his family were endured grew year after year. He hated the government that allowed poverty, hated the world that created such a situation, and hated the God who got all the credit for the things his parents labored to earn. School offered him only more of the same, so he became quiet and insular, losing himself in his love of heavy metal and reading book after book on paganism, particularly those about the old Norse pantheon. He taught himself how to play the guitar, frequently trying new sounds and structures that better reflected the fury trapped within him, a fury so intense he couldn’t even articulate it.

When he was 20 he left Bergen for Oslo, hoping to find others who understood and shared his anger. For a year he ended up holding the same kinds of shit jobs his parents meekly performed, and he was barely able to make do. A co-worker and fellow metalhead introduced him to black metal bands like Mayhem and Burzum, and the music’s aggressive individuality, anti-authoritarian stance, and burning hatred for Christianity spoke to him. He bought every album, demo, and single he could with what little money he could scrape together, and made copies of whatever tapes he couldn’t afford.

Then he heard about a new record shop called Helvete, which was backed by the guitarist of Mayhem, Euronymous. He started hanging out there, calling himself “Azrael,” and quickly earned the attention of the other black metal musicians who hung out there. He became part of the “Black Circle” that met in Helvete’s basement, surrounded by black walls, medieval weapons, cheaply produced posters, and plastic tombstones. They screamed, fought, drank, laughed, intensely worshipped Satan (not like those LaVeyan pussies), and plotted the destruction of everything and everyone, while Azrael listened and learned.

His sincere passion, sharp wit, and strangely quiet nature drew the attention of Brynjar, a Setite of the Old Norse strain and a bitter enemy of the Oslo Camarilla. Brynjar was part of a defunct Norwegian punk band in the 70s before his Embrace, and he had been slumming in the black metal scene because it reminded him a little of his mortal days. He paid attention to Azrael, surprised and attracted to his honest and intelligent charisma. Brynjar gave Azrael the Embrace after one of the Black Circle meetings, and Azrael became an enthusiastic member of the Cult of Jormungand temple of Setites.

As the neonate was learning about his transition into the ranks of the Damned, things in Helvete were getting out of control. One member of the Black Circle committed suicide, and a second took pictures of the corpse and used it for an album cover. A third had been bragging about murdering a gay man for propositioning him in a forest just outside Lillehammer. Unlike the rest of the community, who tried to act like it was cool but were secretly shocked by it all, Azrael found himself unfazed by it all, and he was more moved by his apathy than by the grisliness of the scene. He was a vampire now, and suicide and murder were pedestrian compared to the unholy thing he had become.

What really got his attention were the plans that some of the more extreme musicians made to burn down various churches in Norway as a statement. He quickly got involved, excited at the prospect of doing something tangible against a God he hated so much. It wasn’t until the arsons were national news before Brynjar even realized Azrael was involved, but word quickly spread to the rest of Kindred society. Before Brynjar could even get a chance to talk to Azrael, the Malkavian Primogen demanded that Azrael be brought before the a Camarilla Conclave to answer for the arsons. Brynjar, unwilling to suffer a staking for his reckless childe’s zeal, tricked Azrael into heeding the Prince’s demand for satisfaction, claiming that he was to receive the Cult of Jormungand’s foulest rites of initiation.

Azrael arrived painted in his stage makeup and dressed like a Satanic Viking right off of an album cover, and it was that look that was etched into the minds of the assembled Kindred of the Ivory Tower as the Malkavian Primogen congratulated him for his good work. It turned out that one of the old churches that was torched was the safe house for the Oslo Society of Leopold, ridding the local Camarilla of a number of nascent hunters in their midst. Azrael was quick to accept credit for the deed, and despite being a fledgling and a Setite, he was given a position of minor power as a Hound of the Sheriff. Brynjar tried to convince Azrael that this was a trap, that he was just working for another authoritarian figure like the ones he always rebelled against, but the fledgling was wickedly giddy with power. He felt like he had a mandate to take the war against Christianity in the name of the Camarilla and the Setite temple, that he had achieved what others of his clan had failed to accomplish, and that he was naturally superior to the lowly sire who had made him. Azrael scoffed at Brynjar’s advice, and Brynjar told his childe to go fuck himself before leaving Oslo to its war with the hunters.

However, the “war” was short-lived. The Society of Leopold was not destroyed by the arson, merely wounded — and now convinced of its righteousness. They pulled rallied their hallowed slayers and struck back against the Damned. A week of strategic strikes rocked the Camarilla as Kindred after Kindred was staked and put to the torch, including the Prince. The surviving Kindred blamed their newly promoted fledgling, cursing him for the very thing they rewarded him for weeks earlier. He was banished from Oslo. Azrael finally saw the Malkavian Primogen’s Jyhad ruse that Brynjar tried to warn him about, and with his middle finger firmly in the air, he left Norway under exile and threat of Lextalionis.

His brief career in Kindred politics in shambles, Azrael decided to return to his first love and form a band. Abandoning the Satanic trappings of the Black Circle, he focused on Norway’s pagan past. His band Ynglinga kept the black metal sound and stage theatrics of his former inspirations as well as an indelible enmity toward organized Christianity, but as he moved further and further away from Scandinavia, his style became more and more distinct. After a couple of years, he eventually ended up on the outs with his former idols, who regularly threatened his life in letters and interviews over his perceived abandonment of the Dark Lord Satan. A spate of murders and suicides among their ranks have never been officially tied to Azrael, but he gleefully claimed credit and threatened more of the same. As the millennium drew to a close, Ynglinga earned the attention of a record label in New York looking for a band that could provide the black metal sound without all the negative publicity of being Satanists. Realizing that Scandinavia was becoming too tense for him, Azrael agreed, and Ynglinga made the trans-Atlantic trip to North America.

Since then, Azrael has supplemented his band and his music career with the occasional bit of mercenary work among Kindred society, though he refuses to knuckle under to any sect. The Setites of New York find him alienating and disgusting, far from the more traditional Serpent backgrounds and Egyptian-influenced temples of the main branch of the clan. Azrael has been known to work for the Camarilla and the Anarchs, and even a short term of prestation with the New York Giovanni, though the two ended up on hostile terms. All the while wearing his stylized makeup and “gothic Viking” outfit, he has rapidly gained a name among the Damned and the black metal subculture. The only sect he won’t work for is the Sword of Caine, but he refuses to explain why. Some Kindred hadflies speculate that the Sabbat’s Caine-revering form of Christianity is too repulsive to him. Further, Azrael’s role in the murder of members of the Society of Leopold has made him an enemy to the rest of the Inquisition, and more than once, he’s used his band’s touring schedule as an excuse to skip town before the hunters have caught up to him.

In recent nights, Azrael has disappeared. Rumors run rampant as to what happened to him. Some theorize that the Inquisition finally got back at him, while others claim the Sabbat have hunted him for some crime against them. Still others believe that he has returned to Norway and subverted the Cult of Jormungand. A few suggest that he’s just tired of all of the bullshit within the Jyhad and he’s lying low to work on his next album. Whatever the reason, Azrael has captured the imagination (and paranoia) of the Kindred populace, and the most curious won’t be comfortable until know for certain what he’s planning.

<s>Sire: Brynjar

Clan: Followers of Set

Nature: Visionary

Demeanor: Monster

Generation: 12th

Embrace: 1992

Apparent Age: Early 20s

Physical: Strength 3, Dexterity 4, Stamina 3

Social: Charisma 3, Manipulation 3, Appearance 2

Mental: Perception 2, Intelligence 3, Wits 2

Talents: Brawl 1, Expression 3, Intimidation 3, Streetwise 2

Skills: Drive 2, Firearms 3, Melee 3, Performance (Black Metal) 4, Stealth 2, Survival 1

Knowledges: Occult 4, Investigation 1

Disciplines: Presence 3, Serpentis 1

Background: Allies (band and groupies) 3, Fame (black metal guitarist) 2, Resources 2, Retainers (road crew, record label) 2

Virtues: Conscience 1, Self-Control 4, Courage 3

Morality: Humanity 5

Willpower: 6

Blood Pool/Max per Turn: 11/1

<n>Image: Azrael is larger than life in just about every way. He is close to seven feet tall and he wears thick, bulky boots that make him even taller. His long, blond hair is regularly died raven black, and hangs over his face like a death-shroud.

Whether on stage or mingling in Kindred society, Azrael looks like an unholy cross between a goth biker and a modern Viking: long, black leather coats, black and silver furs around his shoulders, white shoe-polished logos on the back and sleeves, and lots of morbid silver jewelry. He has polished stainless steel studs through his ears, eyebrows, nose, and lip. Even his gloves have pointed silver spikes on the knuckles, and his guitars are often solid black with white and silver accents. Every inch of remaining visible skin is painted to make him look (even more) like a walking corpse, but as time goes on, he finds he needs the makeup less and less.

Outside of “the uniform,” Azrael looks much less intimidating. He generally keeps to T-shirts and jeans over heavy-duty work boots, and the amount of silver jewelry dwindles to a handful of rings and a necklace, all displaying some element of his Norse faith. Those familiar with his ostentatious appearance are often surprised as how quickly and carefully he moves. He is a big man in a world just a little too small for him, and he has the studied movements of someone who has spent decades making sure he doesn’t accidentally run into or break things.

Roleplaying Hints: Azrael is bizarre, opinionated, and divisive. He treats his band and his fans like worshippers, all praying to the altar of Fuck Authority. While he is still very young for a Kindred, his fanaticism and lack of fear of Final Death propel him into actions that other Kindred find incomprehensible. His actions make perfect sense to him, but between his self-constructed belief system and his Embrace in an extremely violent and chaotic subculture (as well as a dose of paranoia), it’s not surprising that his actions seem manic to the more stolid vampires around him.

Those who know of Azrael only by reputation or through his stage persona are often caught off-guard by how soft-spoken he is in person. Far from the stereotype of the loud, profanity-spewing, renegade fledgling, he is quiet and thoughtful, often pausing as if considering each thought. On the other hand, he doesn’t see the point in saying anything but what’s on his mind, and the opinions he shares are often just a hostile as any vitriol-laden rant.

Despite (or perhaps because of) his revolutionary and borderline sociopathic opinions, he is surprisingly humble. He doesn’t think of himself as the leader of Ynglinga but rather the first among peers. In his mind, everyone in the longboat is pulling at the oars — he’s just the one counting out the strokes. His natural inclination toward pure democracy makes him particularly attractive to the Anarchs (and dangerous to the other sects), but Azrael doesn’t consider it to be any sort of radical governmental structure. It’s just how he does things, and he’s often disappointed and angry when others don’t see it that way.

Haven: Due to his constant touring and escapes, Azrael has a number of small, improvised bolt-holes throughout North America. Many motel rooms and truck stops that end up “destroyed” by the band are actually hastily secured havens used to keep sunlight and hunters at bay. Azrael does have a few safe houses scattered across the country that he uses for storage or a more secure place to hide when necessary. Overall, though, he tries to stay as mobile as possible.

Influence: As his fame continues to become more and more cultic, various elders are forced to decide if Azrael is a pawn to court or an enemy to crush. They would find either option difficult: So far, Azrael hasn’t found much need for sects, and whether due to beginner’s luck or divine providence, he’s managed to come out unscarred by much of the Jyhad. With the adoration of the Anarchs, the concern of the more orderly sects, and the pragmatic manipulations of the independent clans, though, someone is going to take a swing at Azrael, and soon.

Assuming the Society of Leopold doesn’t get to him first, of course.