[hider=Azazel Morias]
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[color=Crimson][b]⟡        ⟡        ⟡[/b][/color][h3][color=crimson][u]    < Azazel Morias >    [/u][/color]
[sup][sup][color=crimson]❰ Male ❱[/color][/sup][/sup][/h3][/center]
[color=crimson][sub][u][b]       A G E                                             [/b][/u][/sub][/color]
[indent][indent][color=CCCCCC] 123 Standard Years [/color][/indent][/indent]

[color=crimson][sub][u][b]	F A C T I O N / R A C E / S P E C I E S			[/b][/u][/sub][/color]
[indent][indent][color=CCCCCC]Chaos Space Marine[/color][/indent][/indent]

[color=crimson][sub][u][b]	S U B - F A C T I O N					[/b][/u][/sub][/color]
[indent][indent][color=CCCCCC]Red Corsairs[/color][/indent][/indent]

[color=crimson][sub][u][b]	R A N K / P O S I T I O N					[/b][/u][/sub][/color]
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[indent][color=CCCCCC]Champion, Dark Apothecary [/color][/indent][/indent][/indent]


[color=crimson][sub][u][b]	M E N T A L  A N D  P H Y S I C A L  T R A I T S						[/b][/u][/sub][/color]
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[indent][color=CCCCCC]A Space marine is the peak of human ability. they are faster, stronger and more prepared to face a hostile universe and spit in its face. Often in the Imperium they are referred to as Angels, the demigod sons of the Emperor who protect all of humanity from the horrors of the universe. They are stated to be paragons of honor, virtue and strength; monastic Knights dedicated to the protection of the weak and fearful. They are the Imperiums ultimate protectors, trained from worthy children and implanted with super-human organs to boost their trained abilities to a level unreachable by the common man. Then their minds are fortified through hypnosis, indoctrination and conditioning to form a great bulwark against corruption and the vices of man.

But even the strongest bulwark may fail, for any wall can be breached and none fall quite from the Godly heights of the Adeptus Astartes. To be given the body of a demigod, and turn it to ones personal gain is to betray all the Astartes stand for. These warriors, free of their ascetic shackles, indulge in all they could ever want. Inevitably however, these super-humans return to war for their bodies are forged for the crucible of conflict. Fire, death and the screams of the dying for them are a true home.

For Azazel experience is everything. Sadistic, curious and enraged Azazel is a madman. Once an Apothecary, a healer, with the Astral Claws betrayal, secession and renunciation of the Imperium no longer did he need to shackle himself. He is obsessed with study of the body, especially that of Astartes. He is known to capture a foe occasionally, an Astarte of some loyalist chapter only to dissect, test and stretch his physical capabilities all for the sake of his own insatiable thirst for knowledge... though now it is just as much the red hue of their blood or the way their gore writhes in their cavities.

He, like many other Space marines fallen to chaos and residing in the Immaterium, has taken his hobbies to obsession. The anatomy of life and how best to end it quickly or slowly, as well as how to improve upon and tinker with it is his obsession made manifest. Every enemy is a new test subject, every piece of meat or flesh a canvas on which to create a masterpiece. Every genome a new avenue for exploration, and every human a perfect vessel for possession and experimentation... truly he has fallen far from once lofty heights. 
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[color=crimson][sub][u][b]	A P P E A R A N C E					[/b][/u][/sub][/color]
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[indent][color=CCCCCC]Being a Space marine Azazel is a fair seven and a half feet tall and far thicker in shoulder than any mortal man. His skin is oddly pale and often streaked with creases and marks of one who has not slept in some time, tired but excitable. His eyes small points which dart frantically from place to place as if always searching for something. His mouth is often either pulled into a wide, rictus grin or a small, muttering position. His once smooth brown hair is matted and messy, now removed from much of the back of his skull from his... 'enhancement'. On the back of his head and seemingly crawling up his skull is an amalgamation of technology and warp power that could make stomachs churn. Long brass cords running beneath the skin, actuators and readouts obscured by glowing runes and crude etchings as the machinery seems to pulse with the tainted and agitated flesh all around it. This invasive surgery may be the reason for the rest of his ghastly appearance.[/color][/indent][/indent][/indent]

[color=crimson][sub][u][b]	W A R G E A R					[/b][/u][/sub][/color]
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[indent][color=CCCCCC]His wargear has remained largely unchanged for centuries, even now. Wearing a full set of MK.6 'Corvus' Power armor decently maintained and still in the red and black livery of the Red corsairs, his helmet with a tall red top-knot and strange, archaic markings all over its 'beak'. He has begun to scratch kill markings into the armor, the tally is currently only on the bottom edge of his pauldron but numbers already near eighty marks. His weapons seem rather ordinary for a marine by and large, a boltgun and chainsword, standard and previously quite well kept. Recently it has not been uncommon for the blood of combat to be allowed to simply dry upon the weapons... until the rare moments of clarity that grips the marine take over and he scubs them until his fingers are bleeding. His Narthecium is still intact and well maintained, if used for killing as often as saving now.[/color][/indent][/indent][/indent]

[color=crimson][sub][u][b]	H I S T O R Y					[/b][/u][/sub][/color]
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[indent][color=CCCCCC]The Red Corsiars, oncce known as the Astral Claws, are a notoriously piratical group of Chaos Space marines with wildly different devotions to Chaos and others. Azazel was indeed once an Apothecary for the Astral Claws before their Heresy, which he wholeheartedly supported being one of the early adopters of destroying Imperial Iconography with red paint, the reason for the Corsairs name. Always an early adopter Azazel embraced the worship of all four gods wholeheartedly and with excitement, if not zeal. He was perhaps most loyal to the Prince of Pleasure and his rival, Khorne. His sadistic, specific way of experimentation and curiosity appealed to Slaanesh, whilst his thirst for blood and combat was paid to the Red God. He embraced his new freedom, offering any marine who sought it enhancement at the cost of free experimentation. Combining technology, anatomy, sorcerer and Daemonology truly horrific and deadly monstrosities came from his workshops. The Dark Apothecary even began to accrue a number of acolytes, pupils who wished to learn at his feet.

Throughout this time he had researched a particular surgery, one that he believed paramount to the Corsairs, the vaunted Berserker Surgery, one which turned marines into near mindless killing machines. For all his career, even before the heresy this operation had intrigued him, and now he could practice upon nigh endless subjects. Eventually he was able to capture a Khornate Berserker alive, using him to reverse engineer what had so thoroughly pledged his soul to Khorne. Thought it took many weeks, much screaming and many missteps Azazel was able to aapproach his Captain with wondrous news, he beleived he had perfected a bastardized version of the procedure and wished to grant his leader with Berserkers... for a certain price. This excitemnt led to his downfall, for he had shared his findings with his brightest pupil, who had already offered the captain the same deal, but for far less than his teacher asked for.

With thism the Captain had Azazel and his most Loyaly pupils detained, and declared to be the first test subjects of the Doctors new and miraculous 'breakthrough'. This would turn out to be a terrible mistake. Perhaps Azazel had overestimated his genius, or perhaps all his notes had not been found, or maybe his apprentice was simply less talented than he. For whatever reason, things went wrong quickly. Once the procedures were complete the subjects went wild with rage as expected, but it was not aimless or declared for the Blood God. Instead they were driven mad by visions of marines they did not know and battles they hadn't fought or held on to their spite. Azazel and his newly minted Berserker pupils cut a bloody swathe through his old Friends ship, murdering all that came near them, culminating in the death of his captain and the dissolution of his pirate fleet. However, his stat pupil had been mysteriously absent, and so lost in their maddening rage were the marines that they could not stop their warp jump into the void.

Noe, Azazel and his surviving pupils are adrift and aimless, their rage and petty lust for vengeance aimless and plagued by terrible madness. They seek salvation, and Azazel still cuts up foe after foe on and off the field, seeking a way to stop the maddening visions and voices in his head... if only he could see through all the blood... so much blood...[/color][/indent][/indent][/indent]
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