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[b]Full Name:[/b] Jazelle Natali Sanders

[b]Nickname:[/b] Ella or Jay

[b]Age:[/b] 16

[b]Appearance:[/b] Jazelle has long, strait blond hair and honey-brown eyes, which she inherited from her mother. She has a small frame, stands at only about 5’ 3,” and weighs about 114 pounds. 

[b]Distinguishing Marks:[/b] She has a rather interesting birthmark on her right shoulder blade. She has always thought it looked somewhere between a wonky S and a wind-blown leaf.

[b]Clothes Wear:[/b] She usually wears fairly lose clothing that she more likely than not got from a goodwill store. She always wears a hoodie, tying one around her waist in the summer months, making it her signature garment among her few friends.

[b]Powers/Abilities:[/b] Currently unknown on the magic side. Otherwise, she has a knack for finding quiet, out-of-the-way places, sneaking around, and running into trouble.

[b]Weapons:[/b] A [url=https://thebladedhand.files.wordpress.com/2015/08/wpid-fe0eb672588fe0170a3d05460aebf2ab.jpg]butterfly knife[/url] with a four-inch blade one of her few friends gave her. The handle is silver with slanted blue stripes. She usually keeps it on her person at all times, just in case.

[b]Personality:[/b] Jazelle hates her home life. She does whatever she can to avoid returning home, often staying out long past dark or even, on occasion, spending multiple nights with friends. Because of that, she always has a couple extra sets of clothes shoved into her school backpack, which she usually keeps with her. Because of the way her father has always treated her, she trusts virtually no one, letting in only a few close friends. Though she does occasionally complain about things, Jazelle tends to keep quiet about her home life and personal issues, preferring to deal with things herself, be it a problem with a friend, boyfriend, or even an injury. She refuses to admit she can’t do something, and won’t ask for help.

[b]Major Negative Traits:[/b] Rebellious nature, especially when it comes to rules. Has a major issue with authority. Can’t stand people who act like they’re better than others, and does her best to bring those kinds of people down from their high horse. Hot-headed. Impulsive. Extremely cynical.

[b]Major Positive Traits:[/b] She is one of the most loyal people you will meet, in the rare event you’ve gained her trust as a friend. She is fierce, and is not afraid to stand up for herself or fight for what she believes is right. Determined. Independent, but to a fault, making this a double-edged sword. Fairly street-smart. Adaptable.

[b]Family:[/b] [u]Parents:[/u] Natali (deceased) and Henry Sanders.

[b]Ticks and Tags:[/b] [u]Ticks:[/u] Twiddles hair when nervous. Bites cheek when thinking. Likes to play with her butterfly knife. [u]Tags:[/u] Mutters a lot. “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.” Though she holds herself in a manner that often arouses suspicion from her superiors, she has a fire in her eyes and always walks like she knows exactly where she is going, even when she does not.

[b]Other:[/b] She has a silver charm bracelet her late grandmother on her mother’s side gave her. It once belonged to her mother. It has ten charms dangling from it: an angel wing, a green clover, a blue stone heart, a peace symbol, a colorful enameled turtle, a gold shooting star, one purple and one brown cat’s eye stone, a red rose, and a mirrored oval. She never takes it off.

[b]Short Bio:[/b] Jazelle never got the chance to know her mother, who died the day she was born. With her father blaming her for her mother’s death, she was placed in the care of her grandparents—her mother’s parents—a few hundred miles away. They were loving people whom she would have been quite happy to remain with until she came of age, but tragedy struck them. A couple months before she turned nine years old, her grandmother fell deathly ill.
	Not wanting the child to have to watch her grandmother waste away, her grandfather managed to talk her father into taking her back in, albeit reluctantly. 
	Before Jazelle left, her grandmother gave her what has become her most treasured possession: a charm bracelet that once belonged to her mother.
	Feeling abandoned and disposable, she packed her things and made the trip to live with her father in a large city, which was a far cry from the small town she had grown up in. 
	When she first arrived at her father’s, he seemed, at most, callous, paying her little attention save when she had need of some sort of necessities. She quickly learned how to cook and accomplish various other chores on her own, often times being left to fend for herself while her father took on more hours at work to avoid being home, and providing only the bare minimum.
	She tried once to talk her grandfather into taking her back some time after her grandmother died, but he only said that it was better for her to be with her father. He rarely contacted her besides sending a birthday card each year.
	At school, she tended to be a loner, keeping to herself and trusting no one. She made her first friend in her new city when she was ten, a girl by the name of Kaylee. Though it took Jazelle a long while to warm up to the girl, she ended up giving her trust to her new friend and let her into her little circle. She frequently spent time with Kaylee, staying the night at her house as often as she could.
	Over the next six years, she made very few other friends, her small circle amounting to the meager number of three: Kaylee, Brice, and Tess. During that time, her father’s disdain toward her only escalated, her presence reminding him of his loss that much more as she grew into a young woman who resembled the wife he had lost. He often abused her verbally, especially on nights when he came home after having one too many beers, reminding her frequently what he thought of her.
	She found solace in walking the city streets on her own during the days she could not contact her friends, which her only means of contact was via either landline or making the trip to their homes. Knowing she often walked the city streets alone, Brice, whom she has recently noticed she has budding feelings for beyond friendship, gifted her a butterfly knife for her fourteenth birthday, which only her friends bothered to celebrate.
	She could not wait to get out from beneath her father’s so-called “care,” which she made a point to never mention to anyone when Kaylee’s mother once threatened to call Child Protective Services. Since then, she has made up whatever excuse she could to the other adults in her life for fear of ending up in the foster system. After all, now she only has two more years before she can legally get out on her own, which is exactly what she planned on doing.
	However, little did she know, one fateful twilight near a set of train tracks would bring the life she knew to an end.

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[b]Appearance:[/b] With a pallor that would make Death himself jealous, he is tall, has lengthy black hair he keeps tied back in a lose ponytail, and a slender face, his skin tight and accentuating his chin and cheekbones. Unlike most other Necromancers whose irises are red, his eyes are different, showing his superiority; The whites and irises glow red, the intensity strengthening when he uses his dark powers, and his pupils are milky white. He also has a scar from a burn running diagonally over his left eye.

[b]Real Name:[/b] Unknown	[b]Gender:[/b] Male

[b]Age:[/b] Unknown. Appears somewhere in his late twenties to early thirties.

[b]Known Reputation:[/b] Kyrell has mostly managed to avoid a well-known reputation, though not the radars of some magicians, word of him only recently coming to the White Council in frightened whispers. It’s said that he came from nowhere, a Necromancer with an unnerving amount of control and power. Perhaps, it’s rumored, one of the most powerful Necromancers in the known world. He has been spotted many times wreaking havoc in various wars against the Allied Lands, and caused a few battles’ victory to fall to the Necromancers.

[b]Personality:[/b] Unlike most of his ilk, Kyrell seems calm and collected. Well, some of the time. Though he loathes spending a great deal of time studying magic and other such spell work, he has, through the years, forced himself to do just that. He can switch from his calm appearance to a heated rage on a dime (with room to spare), and is a proud and vain soul. His main desire is to bring down the Allied Lands and make the world feel the wrath of his revenge, to see Necromancers rule as they once did in ages so long past that even the earth has neigh forgotten that dark bit of the world's history.

[b]Bio:[/b] (Sorry, I’m lazy right now. I’ll get something here... eventually.)