As far as rules and whatnot go, I'm pretty easy. Basic rp etiquette apply. Mutuals only, slow due to work and other such things. Probably going to be mostly iconless, though I'll likely have a few icons made for when I do feel like using them. Shipping is fine, if we're both feeling it.

Because of the nature of the character, dark themes will be present in writing for sure, and maybe in visuals from time to time. I'll always do my best to tag things appropriately, but feel free to approach me if I've forgotten or tagged something wrong.

Due to how customizable most things are in bg3, I wouldn't really consider other Dark Urge characters 'duplicates,' particularly since mine is somewhat canon-divergent, so other Dark Urges are most welcome.

Blogroll. @fenrs @0lrox

Name. Azariah. Age. Somewhere in his late 40s to early 50s, appears to be in his late 20s. Race. Asmodeus tiefling of mixed race. Gender. Cis male. He/they. Orientation. Homosexual. Class. Warlock. Archfey patron. Previously circle of spores druid; retains some druidic attributes. Background. Haunted One. Personality. Comes off as quite optimistic, relatively kind, sometimes playful and sweet; some (though not all) of this is a front to mask what is inside. An urge to kill, feelings of guilt and shame and fear. Look hard and long enough, and it can be seen, behind the front. Height. 5'8. Build. Slender, fit. Skin. Dark. 'Fey' tone, giving him a subtle fuchsia undertone which is most apparent in his lips. Has a scattering of faint freckles across his nose, cheeks, and shoulders, which resemble azalea spots under close inspection. Eyes. Large, expressive. His natural left eye is a spring green with a radiant yellow halo around the pupil. Artificial right eye is medium blue with hazel streaks. Hair. Black. Straight, grown to his lower back. Usually kept in a single, long, braid. Horns. Relatively short. Black, inlaid with gold. Curve towards the back of his head.

Father. Bhaal. Mother. Name pending. Approx. three quarters tiefling, and a quarter mixed wood elf and fey eldarin. Deceased. Siblings. A number of half-siblings, sired by Bhaal. Mostly deceased.

A background. A detailed history is incoming, but the (really) short of it is:

Azariah was fathered by Bhaal. Not in the canon sense, as I went in to the Dark Urge play through completely ignorant of the Durge's story, and came up with a story, including early life, for my lil Durge guy in my head as I was playing, before learning any canon background and I was too attached by that point to change it.

(I am undecided otherwise on the exact nature of Bhaal's role in creating Azariah. Looking at various mythologies, I'd say gods have a number of interesting was in which they create their progeny, alongside the uh... traditional way, after all.)

His mother, the person he thought was his father, and much of the community around him were druids. Azariah was one too, up until after losing his memories.

While he had a relatively normal and happy childhood, some time in his mid to late teens, Azariah killed his family. This is, not coincidentally, around the same time Sceleritas Fel had begun appearing in his life, in secret.

From there, much of the major Durge story beats apply. If I think of any other major divergences, they will be noted.

"Hey...your pockets aren't too weighed down, right?" He probed as nonchalantly as possible. Which in his case was a tad conspicuous with how he rubbed the back of his neck and allowed his foot-found stare to eventually dark up at the eye level to regard Az through usually surly- now softened eyelashes.

After a moment of considering, he drew a hand he'd hidden in his pocket out and pressed a triad cluster of stones against the other's stomach gently. The light caught on them just so to coax orange and blue flashes along the pink surface of the crystals. "Thought 'cha might want one for your ah...collection?" Even though he did enjoy such things, he didn't have much room to keep them for long thanks to Ren's massive collection of books and scrolls taking up their tent.

"Thought it looked special so...couldn' keep hands to m'self proper." A small shake of his head and a smile got the better of him, because he added a "-reminded me of ya-" before he realized the slip of his tongue and his face heated with shade like a plum's stain. "I mean-!" Dammit. His breath hitched. "If you want it?"

❝ No... I'm fine, ❞ he answers the initial question with a smile, a subtle laugh almost covering the curious nature of the answer. As if it were a question itself: why do you ask? Answered before they need to actually ask, in the form of a crystal, pressed careful to them, which Azariah takes after only a moment of hesitation.

It's beautiful, and for some time, they think of nothing to say as they watch the colors dancing across the crystal. ❝ It does look special... ❞ Hardly louder than a breath, Azariah finally speaks again, their smile now soft. ❝ I want it, yes. ❞ It sounds like such a selfish thing to say. They remember their own attempt to give a similar gift, and how Biv had responded. They shift their gaze back up to meet his, wondering if perhaps he expects something similar. But no, they can't imagine he would want them to turn away his gift. Sweet man.

❝ Thank you, Biv. ❞ His blush is mirrored in their own, a deep fuchsia, as they reach up to brush a clawed thumb across his cheek. ❝ Would you like to see the rest of my collection some time? ❞ Their tail flicks nervously, then they smile again, smaller, with clear affection and a little spark in their eye. ❝ No need to keep your hands to yourself... if you don't want to, that is. ❞

Drawing meme. @elkenbulwark / @bruinescence

Drawing meme. @stagsworn

❝ I think so, yeah. Without a doubt. ❞ They try ( with only partial success ) to hide a smile as they answer. The tusks don't bother Azariah in the slightest— if Birvor can have them anywhere near their eye and not leave Azariah needing that eye replaced again, then there's little else to worry about, as far as they're concerned— nor do they imagine those tusks would hinder anything in any way that matters, really. ❝ So yes, I could and would. Gladly... ❞ For a moment, they trail off, the deepening color of their face hinting at thoughts wandering quite a bit farther than covered by the questions which demand answers now. They clear their throat.

❝ Whether I should is... another matter. ❞ There, the smile fades away into something more solemn and thoughtful. ❝ He shoulders a lot already... I'd not want to add more by pushing any wants or expectations of my own too hard. ❞ Not to mention the urges which constantly fight to have their way. Still... what they did say is nothing but the truth.

Rather gruff, their combatant had been. Sneaky too. Normally, Azariah finds security in being difficult to get one's hands on; stay at a distance, blink in and out of sight almost at a whim. This time, it hadn't quite worked out that way. Caught by surprise, a shift had come over them. No more skirting around. No more tricks of the fey. A strong hand gripped them with the intent to kill. Their vision had gone red. Sharp teeth found a soft throat and closed around it. Ripped into it, torn until the spray turned into a steady trickle as a heart stopped beating.

They feel— good. Every sickening, miserable, painful feeling that comes with resisting the more violent impulses which would otherwise guide them, gone... for now. It feels good. It feels so good. They stretch their back a little, and wipe at their mouth, though it does little to clear most of the blood, which has run down their chin and throat. ❝ Thanks... ❞ Looking at her, Azariah shakes their head, and even still droplets that cling to their face and horns glimmer as rubies might. It is a coronet, and only after a moment of calm, does the tiefling remember they do not want it. ❝ Fuck. ❞ Murmured to themselves, a gaze turns into a glare, turns into something closer to dismay. Too much. Not that they'd planned on sparing anyone coming for their life anyway, but… that level of aggression had been more than necessary, respected or not.. ❝ I don't like being grabbed. ❞