Raziel

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Republic eraImperial eraRise of the Brotherhood eraExodus era.New Order era.

" There is no emotion? Who's idea was that? There's emotion in everything. Cutting yourself off from it is like trying to cut your own name out of you. Sure, you can do it, but you're left hollow afterwards, and that's no way to live."
―Raziel
Raziel
Biographical Information
Homeworld:

Possibly Alpheridies

Date of Birth:

14 BBY / 52 years old

Place of Birth:

Unclear

Physical Description
Species:

Miraluka

Gender:

Male

Height:

1.90 Meters / 6'3"

Weight:

90 Kilos / 198 lbs

Hair:

Salt and pepper, very salty.

Eyes:

None

Personal Information
Allies:

Soona Eil, DeeDee, D20, Lucretia

Lightsaber Form(s):

Form 5, Djem So

Weapon(s):

Lightsaber, blaster pistols and rifles, vibroblades, knives, sharp sticks

Fighting Style(s):

Mandalorian Core

Chronology & Political Information
Profession:

Wandering swordsman and problem solver.

Position:

Defender

Era(s):

Republic, Imperial, Rise of the Brotherhood, Exodus, New Order

Affiliation:

Jensaarai

Personal Ship:

The Taliahad

Dossier:

11584

Character Sheet:

Raziel

[ Source ]


Character History

Early life

There are a lot of blanks that need to be filled in Raziel’s life. Such as, his real name, where he was born, who his family is, or was, really all kinds of things. The only two names he’s known are Raziel, as you might imagine, and the one before it, Slave.

It’s this cruel life where his tale truly begins. Raz’s first memories were of service on a Star Yacht, owned by a Neimoidian of less than stellar reputation. His name? Master, so far as Raziel ever knew. Working for his Master, Raziel began by carrying drinks and food, oftentimes as something of a conversation piece.


"Look! He has no eyes but he knows where to bring the food, and he doesn’t stumble or spill! You really should get one of your own. Oh, this one? No, not for sale, he’s too entertaining."
―The Master


As he got older and became more trustworthy, Raziel’s job shifted from food and drink service to crawling through the bowels of the overlarge yacht with a glow rod and a vibroknife, hunting small vermin. As one might imagine, rodents surprising the guests was not good form, and the electrowhip carried by the Overseer was a solid educational tool. When that failed, there were other, more creative teaching tools.

As a headstrong child, Raziel became well acquainted with all of them.

Middle Years

In his early teens, Raziel hit a growth spurt, and no longer suited the job of vermin hunter. This suited him just fine, but the next task laid out for him made vermin hunter seem a lot more entertaining. Labor of the basic variety, such as loading and offloading cargo, luggage, fuel, and other sundry things, was the order of the rest of his life. Each stop it was more of the same, pick up the heavy thing. Move the heavy thing. Pick up another heavy thing. Repeat until complete.

As he worked, Raziel could see people in the ports, and often wondered about them. Merchants, mechanics, the occasional diplomat, even Stormtroopers every so often. They were the most entertaining of all, but only after they left. Another of his fellows seemed to have the worst opinion of them.


"Buncha Bucketheads, lookit’em, acting all proud. They wouldn’t know which end of the blaster to hold if it wasn’t labeled on the stock."
―Slave friend of Raziel aka Clonetrooper 1T11T “Teacup”


It was on one such loading duty in the Outer Rim where life was about to make a sudden and dramatic change. An armored being, plated head to toe, happened to walk by, but they paused long enough to get a good look at Raziel. Believing this person to be a Mandalorian, Raziel watched as he worked, but that kind of divided focus got him more than he wanted; the Overseer’s attention.

The electrowhip struck him maybe three times before the situation changed. After that third lash, a blur of things occurred, roughly in the order of the armored person igniting a rusty orange-yellow lightsaber, the electrowhip getting cut in half, the Overseer getting cut in half, and two security guards being shot. There are some questions as to whether that order of operations is correct, but in the end, the punchline was, Raziel was suddenly freed.

Becoming Jensaarai

Jensaarai Defender Mari Tanabel, an Echani woman of both skill and compassion had liberated Raziel from his servitude. She had seen in him a mark of Force strength beyond the usual for his people, and felt it her duty to see to his continued survival. It might have helped that her husband Tharsis was a Miraluka.

Life went from hard labor in lugging boxes to hard labor in learning how to move, fight, and operate a forge. This was much more preferable to Raziel as there was variety to the tasks. He could work at that stuff all day, but Mari didn’t make him. She spent time with him, spoke to him, and taught him numbers in addition to his Force training. She taught him how to feel his emotions and when they needed controlled.


"”The Way of the Jensaarai isn’t easy.”
“You said nothing worth doing ever is.”
“You’re right, but you need to be ready. Everything I’ve taught you up until this point was preparation. I could cut you loose in the galaxy tomorrow and you’d be just fine. Training you as a seeker of the hidden truth? You have to know it, you have to feel it.”
“How do I know?”
“You’ll wake up one morning and everything will be different. It’ll feel hollow, empty, lacking. When the world is not enough, then you’re ready, because the emptiness within you wants to be filled.”
“There’s an emptiness in me?”
“Well of course, you’ve got no name. Dig through the holodrama library and find one you like. It’s your name after all.”
"
―Mari Tanabel and Raziel, the day he found his name.