Raziel Thorncrest

On the upper range of tall at six-foot-five, Raziel's height comes without exaggeration from his forward curving horns. A blindfold of tattered black brocade veils the top portion of his face above sharp cheekbones and full lips framed by a clean-shaven chin. Two small gold hoops hook tight to the side of his left nostril. Long, woolly dreadlocks fall in a charcoal tumble to the bottom of pale, sunless shoulder blades.

Acid-neon tattoos mark thorny lines down his chest and arms, their drape echoing the runed mantle of an inquisitor demon. Thick, blunt nails more like claws by now tip long hands just shy of bony. Throw in the lean, lanky frame and it's hard not to see this Illidari as more demon than elf these days. There's no hiding what he is, so he wears that freak flag like it's designer.

Though his low tenor rasps, there's an almost hypnotic sing-song quality to his voice. A hint of Quel'thalas southwest coast accents his easy-to-enjoy voice. Like many demon hunters, he finds it difficult to navigate the t-shirt section of the store - too many obstacles to trip over - and prefers a wardrobe of loose, wrap-around pants and ripped tank tops which seem a belated sop to modesty. At least he bathes regularly enough to smell like peppermint and lavender soap. Still, he's probably an edgelord. Look at him. That's the face of an asshole.

http://thorncrest.tumblr.com

Pronunciation: "Rahz-ee-el"
House: Thorncrest
Nicknames: Azi, Prick
Piercings: Two rings on the left side of his nose.
Tattoos: Eye-searing fel green demonic binding.
Scars: Lots.
Affiliations: Illidari
Languages: Thalassian, Common, Orcish, Eredun, Darnassian
Inner Demon: Inquisitor

At a Glance:
Smells like... If you get close enough for a whiff, he smells like peppermint and lavender soap. Not exactly your edgiest cologne.
Fashion victim. Wearing a blindfold made of a tattered scrap of black brocade. It's hard to tell if he's taking himself seriously with that or not.
The Beacons of Arathor are lit! This elf is pale. Reflect the moonlight, get your sunglasses, the beacons are lit pale. A ruddy undercast keeps him from looking dead, but he could definitely use a little more time in the sunshine.

Over the last nine months or so, he's been a regular fixture on the Azsuna coastline with the Illidari. Demon hunters and adventurers alike probably saw him haunting the rear guard, a devil-may-care smirk on his lips and a pair of long, curved swords on his hips. Illidari might remember him as a lithe fighter and mildly disturbing interrogator with a bad habit of choosing the worst words in any situation. Those with a background in intelligence gathering and the information underground might still recall him from his days as a nobleman's blade in the dark.

Once, he was Raziel the Prick, shadowblade of the Thorncrest family. Once, he was Razi the companion, a lordling's shield and bosom buddy. Once, he was Raziel Iatros Ebonstone, a boy of no particular note.

In his fourth and likely final life, he is Raziel Thorncrest, the secret-eater.