New NPC (Azriael)

I mentioned I was making this character on another thread. I might stat him if people are interested. He’s intended as an NPC as he would be completely unbalanced to play.

Sometimes a basher makes a choice.
Sometimes that choice has consequences.
Sometimes that basher will do anything to avoid those consequences.

Azriael was an un-exceptional human, born in the lower ward he grew up to become a mercenary of some small renown, guarding merchants while they paid him, shaking down the same merchants when the jink flowed from their enemies. His life continued on in this fashion until, by chance, his paths crossed with an erinyes. The details of the transaction aside, he woke to find that his soul was eternally bound to the Baatezu cause upon his death.

The thought of this terrified Azriael who had always assumed he was a decent cutter and would end up in Ysgard or some such place. After recovering his wits he set out on a search for a way to win, bob or peel his soul back off the Baatezu. He was alternately ridiculed, lectured or politely turned away by every major power broker he contacted across the planes until, 10 years later, he desperately entered the gray wastes in search of a way to dodge his fate. By this time Azriael had become a more than competent warrior and believed his strength would be sufficient to force a deal from one of the inhabitants of that plane.
It was there he encountered a night hag.

“Of course I can help you dear; they can only claim your soul if you die can’t they.”
“Trick you? But you’re such a big strong boy; you could cleave me in two with that big sword of yours.”
“Oh yes, you’ll be as good as new my darling. I’ll even mend your armour to keep you safe.”

When Azriael awoke he was surrounded by twisted vegetation, the dark flora of the wastes having burst up around him in a frenzy of growth seemingly sparked by the aura of light emanating from between the seams of his breastplate. He carefully withdrew his hand from a writhing tangle of razorvine and watched in awe as the bloody gashes on his armour-stripped left arm rapidly closed and faded. With a wry grin he began to stand but quickly collapsed in agony. The interior of his plate armour had been lined with blades, slicing into his flesh whenever he moved.
As he lay, cursing the hag and feeling his wounds close Azriael began to feel an odd, full, sensation; As though his flesh was wrapped too tightly around his being. The feeling rapidly grew until the agony of lying still was greater than the cut of the blades and Azriael thrashed around in the entwining vines and twisted branches until the feeling of tightness faded.

Realising that he would soon become trapped in a prison of wood and vines Azriael cut his way out of the thicket and began to limp his way back to the portal he had used to enter the wastes, a small trail of blood trickling out behind him. The razors in the armour seemed to keep the pressure he felt to a manageable level but in spite of this the feeling of tightness was still building. With horror Azriael looked down at his bared arm and then to the blade in his hand.

He began to cut.

In the present day Azriael lives in Sigil whenever he can because of its relative lack of plant life and its need for someone with his abilities. The positive energy bonded to his body rapidly heals all wounds inflicted on him as well as any deterioration of his cells, essentially making him immortal. This has the side effect of meaning that he has no physical need to sleep which is good because he must constantly stay in motion to prevent the area he rests in becoming overgrown with the traces of life which naturally exist all everywhere.

The energy in Azriaels body is unregulated and must be continually expended to prevent him from simply being burnt up from the inside out. As a consequence Azriael still wears the razor-lined armour gifted to him by the hag and is continually cutting into his bare left arm with the small blade he carries for this purpose. He has become accustomed to the pain and while every movement still hurts he is able to move relatively naturally and speak coherently, albeit in a strained, pain filled voice.

Despite the fact that his body no longer needs sleep the mind must rest periodically. When he feels this need rise Azriael tracks down the nearest portal to a plane with a minimal number innocent bystanders. While Azriaels mind rests his body enters a frenzy of repressed pain and fury at his circumstance. In this state he is reacts violently to any creature that approaches him and is likely to inflict his curse on others by channelling excess energy into them - using them as a release valve.

When his mind has recovered sufficiently to re-establish control Azriael returns to Sigil where he spends his time healing those he can with his aura. Secretly Azriael performs his good works in the hope that his charity will so impress a power of good that they will have pity on him and help him reclaim his soul, so that he can finally rest. His travels to and from hostile planes when he rests means that he has become something of an expert on the location and keys of portals going to the lower planes and he may be persuaded to share that information.

Azriael can be found around Sigil by following his constantly renewed trail of blood. He appears to be a muscular 6’4 human clad in worn but well cared for full plate and carrying a large, obviously magical 2 handed sword. The metal of the armour is streaked with blood, both fresh and dried and one arm is bared. A bright white light seems to seep out from in between the seams of Azriaels armour forming a glowing 15’ aura around him. Azriael compulsively slashes at his bare arm with a small blade, hardly seeming to notice that he is doing so. He speaks in a low, strained voice and his eyes speak of fatigue and agony unknown by most mortals.