Azriel Menachem
Once the Servant of the Bones

Beware Azriel, the Servant of the Bones, for he can be an Angel, or a Demon, of great might. The Old Cananinates, in their time of sin and dreadfulness, cast forth a spell to bring about the creation of the Spirit Demon of a man who hated God, and this Spirit Demon will have the strength of a god himself to rival their God in his hatred.

But Azriel is no servant, and will answer to no one. He is a vengeful spirit for the fallen, weather good or evil, as he so wishes. To destroy him is to release the power he has upon the world, and by such destroying everything that lives, everything that exists around you.

Heed my warning to you and beware of this spirit. Only the most powerful magi can banish him back to his bones, but only if the servant can be caught in anger may this be accomplished. But in anger, he destroys all that will seek to be his Master.

Beware and heed this warning to you.

A Little About Him:

He fears nothing, and he is his own Master, though he can forget himself for whomever has called him forth from the bones, and do their bidding.
He can be a Malach Ha-mavis, an Angel of Death; he will avenge the deaths of innocents, and will kill those who would cause such deaths, weather the killer is for good or evil.

He is what a spirit may be, not what they are now...what they could eventually evolve into.

He own businesses world wide, from factories that produce items necessary for life, to whole areas set aside for farm land, or maintained for entire forests. He handles productions in dolls and other children’s toys (including educational toys and software, but never anything like guns or army figurines). He owns entire towers in major cities, filled with glass and marble, some strictly for office space of companies he approves and invests in, others as large museums that reach to the sky, some strictly built for the "scenic views" they offer of the land and surrounding areas, with restaurants and small eateries on some floors, but all always decorated with inspiring art of warm colours.

He own ocean liners that take people to exotic places, and airplanes that travel the world to scenic vistas of far off lands. He's bought hotels the world over, and keeps enough money in them to have them always top-notch establishments at EXTREMELY affordable prices. Entire advertising markets can answer to him, though he gives them whatever freedoms and expenses he feels they need to accomplish their jobs. But most of all he expresses the fairness policy, giving more holidays off to those that work for him than most companies would dream of, and packages that leave retiring personal well off when they leave.

It cannot be said that he does not live in luxury, but he also lavishes it upon the poor and unfortunate that need it, giving out many coins, some of gold, and much other money to those who cannot afford even a simple meal from day to do, and gives to many charities that help such unfortunate people not only here, but in far countries where he, himself, has visited and tended the sick along side the doctors and nurses there, feeding those who cannot eat, and taking care of the many things that would otherwise leave them feeble and starving that they could not care for themselves. He has set up hospitals and orphanages, halfway houses, retirement homes, and set aside bank accounts strictly to go for those who require assistance.

But the cleanliness of everything, as if it were scrubbed daily to a shine, is something that he enjoys the most of the marble walls, mirrors, and glass that surrounds him, so that, when the sun rises and as it sets, it seems the entire place is a blaze of light that tries to outshine even the Angels of God in its brightness. The small garden is a comfort to him, where he may be found in the evenings when he is not wandering about, or during the day when it does not rain and the sun is shinning over head, his retreat from the noise, where he may sit with a book and read as the bubble and gurgle of the fountain that feeds the plants with its water rests to welcome the weary and the tired into its claiming embrace.

This is the world of Azriel, who is forever the Servant, though the bones reside within the world as nothing more than dust on the wind.

A Brief Explanation:

In 538 BC, only 48 years after the destruction of Jerusalem, Cyrus, King of Persia, invaded Babylon and freed the Jews to return to Judea, to repopulate the land and rebuild the Temple of Salamon.

In this same year, after the taking of Babylon, and after the great Ceremony to bestow the city to the leadership of Cyrus, in which Azriel's body was decorated in gold mixed with a concoction that slowly killed him, was he thrown into the vat to be turned, by a Canonite ritual, into a being of immense power, supposedly the equal of any god or Angel. But, lacking the hate for God, and only complete love, did this ritual fail, and, though him memory hindered, he maintained some free will that lasted until his memory was restored. In his time as a "slave" to conjurers and wizards, he smote many that called upon him, and was open forced back into his bones, and "given away," or often captured as what was believed an invaluable prize, to keep him, this "demon," form destroying the world.

It was written upon the chest, inscribed in gold, in many languages, the danger that he possessed, should he be released, and the warning of his destruction.

Into the present time has he existed like this, until he was awakened by what he doesn't even know, to destroy those that took the life of the daughter of a "great religious man". He went forth, brought down this man's "kingdom," routed all his plans and destroyed many of the "dangerous" followers the world over, crumbing the twisted dreams of one person who thought to make himself a Christ-figure, and to use Azriel as an Angel for his own bidding.

Now, wondering forth into the world, he has accumulated his great fortune, destroyed his bones, made of himself his "own man," and strives to destroy all wickedness the world over.

"Beathe (Naked mix)"*
by Fishtank No. 9

I feel
So lost and confused.
I'm easy
'Bout how I've been used.
The tension
Builds up inside me.
Consuming
All that I can be.

I will not let the demons rise.
I slowly back away.

I just breathe.

I just breathe.

Broken
By your bitter words,
Ignoring
What is always heard.
Your staring
It burns through me.
I feel
What you never see.

Your hurting turns to fear now,
So, I will turn away.

I just breathe.

I just breathe.

I just breathe.

Wondering
If what you say is true.
It’s endless
Simply being you.
Believe me
I will bring you down.
No more silence,
Now my voice is found.

I won't give you the pleasure.
I turn and walk away.