--Roelle--

Name- Roelle



Age- 912

Height- 6’1

Weight- 186Lbs

Race: Half-Fallen Angel

Weapon: Angelic blade

History: He was created in heaven for one purpose, Death. His role in heaven was to execute the angels that had fallen from their perch in heaven. In his first day alive, he had to behead countless fallen, and she will never forget the slaughter, the blood that coated him. His blade was entirely white, beautiful and deadly sharp. One of the Seraph, Michael, bestowed this blade upon him. The hilt was wrapped in the feathers of angels, and the blade could slice through anything. This blade had tasted the blood of at least 50,000 fallen in it’s existence. He was different from the other angels, though. Since he was doing all of this for God, he retained half of his angelic form. But since he had sinned, half of him became what he killed. Fallen. The once pure white wing on his left side became the color of blackened ash, the corresponding eye turning a dull red. His right half still held it’s original colors. He wasn’t sure when he began to resent the others and his work, but it slowly infected him like a virus. All of this killing.. and for what? He started questioning God, but he never got a reply. Sick of it, he freed the remaining fallen and fled to the gates. The only exit. He was attacked by numerous angels, among their number was Michael. The fallen he had freed was no where to be seen, and Roelle prayed that she had managed to flee with her life.

He managed to wound Uriel, and he fled from heaven after killing two angels. That was the only time his blade had tasted pure angelic blood. He was wounded, and struggled to move, finally collapsing. A white haired little girl discovered him, and she nursed him back to health. He felt attached to this little girl, and she seemed attached to him as well. She stuck with him, and he accepted the company. She seemed more like a doll than a human, her humanity taken away by something tragic, but he liked that about her. She didn't judge, she didn't question. She just was. He found her name ironic. Her name was Engel. Two angels. He laughed when he found this out, and she tilted her head in a questioning way. He would never forget that moment. His first laugh. But all good things come to an end. As they slept, a hunter saw the sleeping angel and knew the value of angel feathers were to spell casters, so he tried to cut off his right wing. Engel sensed him coming, and tried to fight him off. Roelle woke, and pulled out his sword, ready to defend Engel with his life. But it was too late. Engel was bleeding from a hole in her stomach and the hunter fled with his life. Roelle did not go after him. What was done was done. He knew he couldn't save her, so he picked her up and held her in his arms, soothing her. To his suprise, the little girl smiled up at him, light shining in those pale eyes for the first time he had ever seen. He knew this little girl would find her place in heaven, and he closed her eyes once the life faded from her. He cremated her, and his view on humanity changed the moment her ashes swept into the wind. For the first time in his life, he shed tears. Blood dripped from the corners of his red eye, pure tears from his left. They were vile creatures, but some were not. He would have to be the savior of the pure. The angel of justice. The judge of the forsaken.

For the sake of his angel.