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{ badge}; Azreal Parish's file
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Topic Started: Mar 14 2018, 09:48 PM (23 Views)
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Azreal Parish
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Mar 14 2018, 09:48 PM
Post #1
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- Posts:
- 83
- Group:
- Lycan Bitten
- Member
- #10
- Joined:
- December 12, 2010
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| Azreal Parish |
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What you see, Basics Name Azreal Parish Age: somewhere around eighty, appears in his early fifties Species: Bitten Werewolf Faction: Basin Pack Affiliate Nationality: American Birthday: February 29 Occupation: Detective; chief of police Relationship Status: Widowed Wolf: Densely muscled and furred black wolf, with grey eyes.
| Posted Image is what you get.
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history Azreal was born and raised in the New Orleans area, and had wanted to be a cop since he could remember. When they decided maybe black folk could do that, he was one of the first to join up in his parish. And he was good at it. While his ultimate goal was to be a detective, being a beat cop wasn't so bad, and it was never dull when you were on the streets on NOLA. He'd married young, and already had two kids by the time he'd put in enough time to even begin to be considered for a detective position. And the first week after being promoted to that desired title, while working the French Quarter, he'd been jumped and drug off the streets, completely unnoticed by the festival goers. Crazy things happened during Mardis Gras, no one thought much of it. Few even noticed it really. His captors had been a transient group of werewolves and when Azreal refused to allow them to bribe their way into impunity in town, they'd repaid that favor by turning him and leaving his unconscious body in the alley to be found by his partner in the morning.
Of all the places to be thrown into the world of the supernatural, the Crescent City was probably the most overwhelming one. He'd been lucky that Gabriel Accardo had been in town on business, of sorts, and the two hit off a very unexpected friendship, and the Italian Alpha had helped establish a support network for Az as he came to grips with his new life, and Azreal knows if the fortuitous meeting hadn't occurred he'd have killed his entire family within the first three months. As it was, he didn't, and he gradually gained the control he needed to maintain his family and work life to the degree no one would know any different. The only indication something was different about him came in his fifties when men his age had started to get the distinguished silver peppering in their hair, and Azreal didn't. He attributed it to good genetics and being taken care of by a wonderful woman for so long- which earned him rolled eyes from his beloved bride.
It wasn't far into his fifties that his wife started showing signs of forgetfulness that weren't like her, and a few months after he finally talked her into seeing a doctor, they got the diagnosis of early onset dementia. They'd been entirely unprepared for it, but, his wife was a wonderfully strong willed and driven woman, and so, they'd just made a game plan to deal with it until they couldn't anymore. It only took six years for that day to come. When she'd woken one morning in absolute distress not knowing where she was or who he was, two days before their fortieth wedding anniversary, Azreal knew they were out of the scope of management. And even though it broken his heart, he agreed with the doctor's and put her into a nearby nursing facility that way she'd have constant medical care should she need it. A cop's work schedule, even a senior officer, didn't lend to the life of a caretaker.
Azreal visited his wife twice a day, every day, until she grew so distressed by his presence, showed so much confusion and fear at not knowing this man who claimed to be her husband of forty years that she couldn't remember, that he'd stopped entirely. Their sons visited with regularity and she seemed to react better to them, even when she didn't recognize them, she didn't fly into a panic. He justified it to himself that he didn't want to upset her anymore, that it wasn't fair or healthy for her, but in reality he just couldn't take it himself. When she finally passed away peacefully in her sleep at the all too young age of sixty-three, Azreal wasn't there- nor could he bring himself to go to her funeral. Something his sons never really seemed to forgive him for.
He'd wanted to keep working but after talking it over with his chief, they both knew he wasn't stable enough to stay there, and agreed to a short term disability break, to let him grieve. After one month, no one in the force saw or spoke to him again. They looked, for some time, but it was as if he'd fallen off the face of the planet. And, for all intents and purposes, he had. Gabriel had provided him the out he'd needed, provided once Az had his mind back, he promised to put his life to good use and not waste it. So, he'd served the Italian pack as a bodyguard and confidant to the alpha and whatever other investigative tasks that came up. The most recent being to keep an eye on Accardo's adult daughter as she recovered from a tragic accident that nearly cost them her life. Since then, he's been in Renfrew, having been provided an identity sufficient for work in the small own of no consequence- or so they thought of it. Until they got there. Now, it seems the town keeps him busier than Keadek does, though, she has her own pack now and they certainly do not diminish his work load in the slightest.
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