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Solus Irud

NAME: Azrael
FACTION: Mandalorians​
CLAN: Skirata​
RANK: Field Marshal
SPECIES: Zhell/Zeltron (half-blood)
AGE: 26
HEIGHT: 5'10"
WEIGHT: 184lbs. (24lbs due to artificial left arm)
EYES: Gray with flecks of crimson.
HAIR: Short black with a heavy widows peak
SKIN: Slight crimson sheen over a tan complexion​
LANGUAGES: Basic, Mando'a, and Huttese​
OCCUPATION: Owner of Mandal Motors


  • + Physically strong from years of hard work in the scrap yards of Ord Mantell.
  • + Half Zeltron physiology affords him a second liver and high metabolism.
  • + Fierce resolve and an impressively strong will. He is not weak minded in the least.
  • +/- Bionic arm that affords him strength and power, but is also artificial and comes with pricey drawbacks.
  • +/- Unrelenting. Azrael will not give up or give in. While that is admirable, it can also be a downfall.
  • - Headstrong and brutish in true battle stemming from repressed aggression and loss.
  • - Trying to prove himself worthy often more than he needs to.
  • - Brooding mood swings when the memories of his past, and the phantom pains of his lost arm haunt him.

  • Salvaging - Nearly two decades of experience in repairing and salvaging just about any piece of technology or vehicle/vessel
  • Melee Combat - Having been taught by two former Mand'alors, and other skilled vod, Azrael is quite adept at killing with bladed and non-bladed weapons, both in dual and single handed combat.
  • Grappling - Tutored by a centuries old HK droid, Azrael knows how to work the force of gravity and leverage to his advantage to take down an opponent.
  • Shock Boxing - Azrael has trained personally with one of the greatest champions of the sport in this century at length.
  • Piloting - Thanks to both Ordo and Gilamar, Azrael is a strong and capable pilot in nearly any craft he gets into, as well as on his favorite Mandalorian war droid.
  • M.A.S.S - Mandalorian Air Strike Squad

Time with the Mandalorian Elite has shaped the rough cut, and seclusive manners of Azrael. He's opened up to the Mando'ade and became part of the family. He has become more direct in his speech, and forward in his thinking. While there are still some deep wounds in his past, he no longer feels the need to prove himself time and time again within the culture. The training and skills he has received from interactions with his brothers and sisters have helped mold him into a leader, and a respected member of the Mandalorians. Azrael's confidence now stems from his place within the culture, as he knows now that he will always have an ever expanding, and ever rich family. While he is not so headstrong anymore, he is still just as determined. There has been some bright spots of compassion now that he knows hope exists, even in dire circumstances. His loyalties remain strictly to the vode.

Ca'prudii [Night Shadow] Won in the Dark Harvest battle at Dagobah.



Destined it seemed was the boy's fate to rise through the ashes of hardship and turmoil and to weather storms that would break him down and re-shape the warrior within. Ord Mantell was not a home-world of temples, skyscrapers, and order. It was an unruly planet wide scrap heap. This is where droids went to die. Aside from the caustic wastelands that stretched for hundreds of miles, the only other life on the desolate rock was half-baked casino ideas, tourist traps and the massive junk-yards that peppered the planet's surface. This however is where a planet-hopping renegade met the alluring and smooth-talking waitress at one of the dive bars and formed a relationship. It was a fly-by-night romance, and nothing that lasted anymore than a few months. That however was all the spark that needed to fan the flame of a love-child left to be raised by a now embittered single mother trying to weigh the chores of having a kid to feed. She could do alright by herself, but a kid was not in the cards.

Azrael started life hanging out in dives less reputable than some places on Nar Shadaa, and that was saying something. He didn't take long though to become a thorn in the side of those trying to forget about responsibility; namely his mother. He had his father's features, though he had never met the man. And despite being her only child, Azrael's mother never liked the fact that he reminded her of a costly mistake on her part. When the boy started to become too much to handle (and getting caught trying to entertain himself) he was shipped off to the only place he couldn't do more damage than good. The junkyards.

What the boy didn't realize is that he wasn't just on a work-loan program. He'd been given to the contracting scum that ran the scrap heaps as payment. They got a young worker, and the mother got enough income to get off that Sith-spit planet. Azrael wouldn't learn about that treachery until much later. The atmosphere was uninviting, and the species around Azrael were not any kinder. The shuffle of the working class was new to the youth, but his affinity for repair seemed to gain him enough favor for a slightly better shift, and a decent wage. That alone was more than enough to draw the unsavory attention of some of the other scrap yard workers. More than a few times, Azrael had endured the beatings of a gaggle of his co-workers, out of sight. Reporting injury or malcontent was just a recipe for more punishment, so Azrael internalized it, bore the disdain and became more of a distrustful grump while still milling away at his work.

There was not much opportunity to be found in the land of dying droids and scrapped durasteel. It was a dead-end in all rights, and more than a few had made that their literal resting place. Azrael was determined not to share that same fate, though never so much as when he met 'her'. Contractors came and went, but one of them that made his home on the outskirts of town, high above one of the more brightly lit casinos was Nivell Tomrak, a middle-aged Arkanian with his teenage daughter. Azrael had never thought of the concept of loving another in this place, but he seemed to catch the girl's eye. Her name was Lahswee, and although Azrael was a combination of a rather attractive race of people, the Arkanian out-shone him. So brightly in-fact that the rest of the horde slaving at the junkyard also took great notice. Yet it was Azrael who warranted the girl's interest, and that only served to cause even more distension in the ranks. Shortly on the cusp of turning twenty, Azrael had painstakingly saved away a small cache of materials, cash, and other supplies for his voyage from the planet. Now his plans were set on getting out of here with Lashwee and finding their own life from the tyranny of her father, and the abuse he suffered near weekly at the scrap-yards.

Another harsh wind blew in the direction of the young half-breed, and it would forever change him. The rag-tag group that had found the annoyance of Azrael escalated to a real threat came up with a coup de'tas. The night when Azrael was supposed to show Lashwee what he had stored up, what he had set up for the both of them, their plan became action. Instead of showing up to meet Azrael, instead Lashwee met her father instead. Circumventing all the plans of the two lovers, the leader of the pack; Rizer had made a pact with her father and won her hand in marriage to unite the family, and win the boy's trust fund to secure his fortune remained on the planet's casino that was in desperate need of new life blood. Azrael however never showed to stop this. He was countered by the gang's other nefarious plan, which left him trapped between the massive crane they locked in place, and a half worn durasteel husk of a destroyed and junked transporter. He was pinned, helpless, and no one aside from saboteurs could hear his screams of rage.

Just to torment him further, they left a datapad below his feet to show the playback capture of the announcement of marriage and the showing of Azrael's stockpile as Rizer's own dowry to Tomrak. Rage filled the bloodshot tear-filled eyes of the boy. He struggled with all his might, adrenaline pumping through his veins as thick and potent as his life-blood. Jarring his arm to the right, the crane shifted, but it was a costly and grave mistake. His left shoulder dislocated and he let out a cry of anguish. Still the pain was nothing compared to the horrid betrayal loss he had witnessed. And that's when his wide eyes saw it. The mark of the Mandalorians. A faded elongated skull partially concealed by a layer of dust on the husk he was trapped against. The remnants of a Mandalorian war cruiser was keeping him prisoner.

The Mandalorian lore was famous throughout the galaxy. Tales of the tenacity, their warrior spirit, and their un-ending courage littered the dives he grew up in. They were the stuff of legends, they were fierce, unconquerable and respected. They were not weak, they were powerful, mighty and above all, unrelenting. His eyes shut for a moment, his right hand struggled and twisted under the load of his shoulders, while sweat poured down his face. Reaching to his belt of tools, Azrael released the servocutter. Gritting his teeth, he shifted and pulled the arm more out of the socket before he fired the tool up, and began to amputate his own arm, starting right below the dislocated shoulder. Thanks to the tight confinement of the peril, the servocutter was the best choice for the job. Small and compact, the energy would still be enough to slice through bone, ligament and tissue with minimal bleeding. It cauterized instantly, but was no less painful. Focused on the Mandlorian crest, his arm became less and less of a burden until the severed arm slipped between him and the ground before he was able to also fall from the entrapment before the weight of the crane smashed into the durasteel with a massive resounding thud. And then there was quiet, and black.

Weeks of recovery came and went with the young man barely saying anything during the time that his left arm was replaced by a myriad of prosthetic replacements until one was fashioned that would suit him for the long-term. The experience had changed him, cemented many ideas in his mind, and caused him to become less a recluse, but more of a quiet jaded soul. He spent many hours and days in the scrap heaps testing his arm, training himself to use it. Through the pains that shot from his severed limb, he fought. Even at night when the night terrors of the incident would cause him to scream and wake drenched in sweat, he didn't break. Using that fractured hull now as a silent memorial, he placed the Mandalorian crest on his artificial arm's shoulder. He wasn't a Mandalorian, but it was their legend, their inspiration that had saved his life and gave him the strength to fight.

The next time he ran into Rizer, Azrael took no pity on the man, and on instinct, gutted him with the sharpened claws of his artificial hand leaving a bloody mess and walking away from the scrap-heap forever. Drowning his conscience then in a liquor stupor, he was spotted by a visiting humanoid who happened to note the crest on his shoulder. Little did Azrael know that would be the last night he'd spend on Ord Mantell.

When the last vestiges of his life on Ord Mantell had been forever broken by his actions against the late Rizer; Azrael found himself giving up the last precious few credits he had to his name in order to down a drink at a local pub. He had no prospects after Rizer and his crew had cleaned out his nest-egg, but with the betrayal, and the damage done - he didn't care anymore. He couldn't go back to the junkyard as his murder of a high ranking worker was now public knowledge. He's lost his job, his relationship, and his arm. This was not his finest hour, but he'd dug himself a hole, and the rest of Rizer's crew were like to bury him in it.

Fortune however seemed to give a glimpse of light as in the same tavern a Mandalorian woman took notice of the iconic Mythosaur faded and worn on the cap of his bionic shoulder. No sooner though than she had questioned him about it than the rest of Rizer's crew had come for Azrael's head. A fight ensued between himself and the three thugs, which quickly turned into a three on two fight when the Mandalorian; [member="Kila Cadau"] got involved. A not so typical bar fight erupted drawing attention as the under-handed tactics of the junkers pressed their advantage. This drew the curious attention of Kila's big brother - another Mandalorian named [member="Ordo"] who had a penchant for loud booming weapons - tearing the last of the scrappers apart and sending him over the bar counter.

There were a few scrapes and cuts, and more than a few close calls, but Azrael had managed to survive after he drove his handy hydrospanner through the eye of the last contender brutally killing him in fit or rage. Ordo and Kila found promise in the young half-blood and drew him into their company. Ordo himself took Azrael under his wing and brought him to Mandalore and his first jaunt out into the black. His life was left behind, and as Ordo had advised, he was starting over, wiping away the past he had fought through, and ushering onto Mandalore with a clean slate to join the Mandalorian people.

For the first time in his young life, Azrael had a family and it was massive. Every brother and sister was something he had never expected to have on the streets of Ord Mantell. He quickly took up their art of war, learning and training himself in a feverish attempt to make up for lost time. He had been bullied and beaten on a consistent basis, but he'd no longer be a victim. Azrael would become a champion, and stand with his new family through thick and thin in glorious combat. His dedication took a shine in the eyes of a Field Marshal who had been proven in battle - taking the half-blood under his wing and teaching him the skills of melee combat in an earnest attempt to foster the young initiate into their warring culture. [member="Verz Horak"], who would later rise to become Mand'alor, was his first instructor.

Of the many missions he joined the Mandalorians on, none would be so memorable for the young recruit as when the Darkness came to invade the galaxy. A deathly sickness that turned the dead into animated corpses, spewing with black gushing ooze and destroying all in its path. The planet of Elrood was overrun with the sickness and Azrael had to stand by his brethren to empty the city and clear the wreckage. He learned a lot about himself in the heat of battle, and had proven to the Field Marshals there that he was of a tactical mind, and could think creatively when in the midst of combat. His first of many promotions came after that epic struggle, as did a ship that he would later call the Night Shadow in the Mando'a native tongue.

Digging into every facet of the Mandalorian culture - Azrael had done what many before him had aspired to when becoming part of the Mando'ade; he'd left the past behind him. Though it had shaped him, and left permanent lasting reminders about his early life as an ever present hallmark, it was the present day that he was focused on. That is what the Mandalorians had instilled in the salvager - to live in the moment, and not waste your time or your energy in regretting the past, or pining for the future. Grab life by the moments you breathe in and revel within them. They called this practice shereshoy, and it had really opened up the warrior's world to his full attention.

With a focus on the culture, and a life to carve out for himself, the young Mandalorian worked in close conjunction with a couple of expert besk'ar smiths to craft his very own set of armor that would be the face claim to his position within the Mando'ade, and how the outside world would now look on this half-blood. No longer would he be seen as Azrael of Ord Mantell - but the crimson T-visor of the Mandalorians would now resonate his purpose and his place in the Galaxy. While making the armor, Azrael's true connection to the vode spurred from a relationship he built up with the chief engineer of Mandal Motors. Gilamar Skirata was a middle-aged man who took Azrael under his wing, noting the prowess he displayed in salvaging parts, and his history with pretty much all kinds of technology. Inducted as Gilamar's apprentice, and soon adopted son into clan Skirata, the young man began to put his skills to use and work for Mandal Motors in every aspect he knew how.

However, just when he had found his niche - and was making headway in a world he was just beginning to grasp, the ghosts of the past came back to haunt him. In the form of a short holo-recording, the flood of memories and emotions had torn his attention away. A voice from his past, the girl he had left behind on Mantell was now calling to him. Azrael was the only one she knew who had escaped the planet and wasn't in league with either her father, or the gangs that made up the prominent parties of the scrap yards. The message was one of desperation, and it indicated that she needed help in leaving her family behind, and he was the only one she could trust. The problems he left on that planet were not going away, and he'd have to see to them personally before he could finally let the past rest.

What had originally been a rescue mission however, turned into so much more. The adventure Azrael went on though was unknown to the vode. He'd left his post, left his work, and left his family. Originally he warranted no more than a week's time to wrap this up in a neat little bow - but the Galaxy had other plans. A bounty was aired out for his head on a platter by the man that was working the strings of this nefarious plot. Azrael had cost him a worthy tie in with the business of Ord Mantell, by killing the man who was slated to take his daughter's hand in marriage. Now that he was out of pull within the local community of tourist casino traps, he'd left that world and had put his energy into other means. While his daughter; Lahswee, was truly trying to flee from her father, it was Nevill Tomrak who had lured Azrael to Phaeda, and the trio of bounty hunters that were hot on his trail.

Little is known of what took place after he got to Phaeda, but he didn't make communication with the Mandalorians for nearly the space of a year. In that time, the whirlwind of events that took place further shaped his outlook on life, and what he hated about the many years he'd stayed on that arid wasteland of a planet. He was stronger though, far more focused, driven and deadly. In what spanned over eight months of moving throughout the fringes of wild space, Azrael ended up burying the first girl he ever loved, in a ceremony that was between only himself and the stars. It is also speculated that he went on a blood-quest to destroy Tomrak and anyone under his employ. Whether or not he did that, only the half-blood knows, and so far he hasn't been talking about it at length.

Eight months. Eight long months had passed since Azrael had been on Manda'yaim and not a single transmission had come between him and the Mando'ade. The onset of his return came in a dash across the stars in the broken and beaten Night Shadow, escorted into the docking bay of a Mandalorian war vessel. Once his besk'ar boots hit the bay floor, he knew he was home. A welcome celebration for a long and seemingly lost son of the Manda - and being greeted by old familiar visors, including that of his adopted father, and big brother. A lot had changed for him, and for his adopted family in this time - and many new and old faces had swapped places providing a great deal of things to catch up on. Azrael was stronger than when he left, having finally buried his past and proven himself in solo combat time and time again. The spirit of the Manda rested with the salvager, and he'd turned into a sturdy and stalwart champion.

Upon return, news had been exchanged rather quickly at a sit down with both his father; [member="Gilamar Skirata"] and his Ori'vod; [member="Ordo"] in understanding what had happened in his absence. [member="Verz Horak"] ; the man that had trained him in melee combat and strategy was Mand'alor before Azrael had taken his unexpected leave. Now replaced by necessity by Gilamar, complete with a new direction and focus had arose. In a master stroke, the new leadership of the Mandalorians had swept across the plane of stars in their galactic backyard and all but eliminated any Sith presence, dissolving their unions and destroying their strongholds. The Mandalorians had conquered like the tales of old, and it was a gratifying notion to the half-blood that the Mandalorians were again a feared and respected name in the Galaxy.

Among the last remnants of the Sith Empire was the crumbling and dying heart of the faction, and it's last vestiges of strength on Mytus VII. To completely cripple the New Order of the Sith, and show them that the Mandalorian intolerance of their regime was complete and without mercy, Azrael struck with the Mando'ade. During the onslaught against the faction's capital planet, Azrael's attention was turned to a large slave pit in which the deformed and mutated Sith Spawn; the Graug were holding dozens of sentients prisoner in their slave camps. Like a wave of death, the salvager launched into their encampment and blazed a trail around the corridors. During the ensuing riot of the other prisoners, Azrael rescued two such slaves. A brother and a sister, to bring back to Mandalore and free from them from the life they had known. While the elder brother went his own way, [member="Anastasia Rade"] stayed with the Mandalorians and was adopted into Azrael's family as his younger sister.

Returning to duty and to glory, Azrael made tracks to insert himself once again in carrying out whatever the new Mand'alor needed. Taking up more responsibility within the shipyards of the great Mandal Motors. With Gilamar as Mand'alor, Azrael watched as the weight of that title wore on his father and made sure to do whatever he could to assume responsibility that the elder Skirata didn't have time to manage. One such venture was a call from the Kuat Drive Yards, insisting a Mandalorian representative come to their station to retrieve a wayward and derelict vessel of the Mando'ade and take it off their hands. It was in the unlikely of places where Azrael was approached by a beautiful and through provoking woman who was also looking for her role in the Galaxy. A Jedi, but with strong ties to the Mandalorians, and to some of Azrael's closest friends. [member="Devorah Khaladan"] wasn't someone Azrael expected to meet, or to become close to. The Manda had different plans, and soon enough the pair had become a couple that found each other a breath of fresh air, and a balm to a void in their spirit that neither had really even noticed before.

In the tongue of the Mandalorians, the Sith were known as the Dar'jetti. This term referring to that act of losing your own soul to desert the Order, and turn from the path. Despite the long history of abuses and conflict between the Mando'ade and any users of the Force, that term still meant quite a lot. These were once allies of the Mandalorians, but no longer was that the case. After a nuclear attack on their homeworld, the ire of the Mandalorians was fixed fast on the Sith scum. During the time in which Azrael had been absent from the faction, the change in power to his adopted father had lead the Mandalorians to sweep across the eastern back-end of the Galaxy and dominate the landscape tearing apart the Sith soldiers and their Force wielding henchmen. Their conquest was paramount and unchallenged – wiping the Sith off the face of the Galactic map, and showing their collective strength against a cause that bore into the very bones of the Mandalorians.

It was this drive and ferocity of power that drove a second attack, this one aimed at a new Sith threat that bordered the Republic, and had taken their homeworld of Coruscant. A planet ruled by the Republic for millenniums had fallen fate to the combined forces of a like-minded Sith faction on the rise. They systematically steamrolled through planet after planet, tearing apart the Republic's forces without pause or relent. Supporters attempting to break that cycle and rescue Coruscant from the grip of these tyrannical lords of darkness, the Omega Protectorate had called in a few favors to aide in their attempt to weaken the new One Sith. Azrael among them rode into battle with some of the strongest members within the faction. Unfortunately the might of the Sith was too much, combined with their new found alliance with the Vong. In a movement that caught all by surprise, Azrael's mentor in all things Mandalorian became twisted by the Sith's reigning Dark Lord. Becoming the embodiment of all it stood for, Ordo had been turned.

The second blow came in a wave of horror as Azrael witnessed the death of former Mand'alor Mia Monroe. Two devastating losses in such a quick time, only to be warned of a desperate attempt of the Protectorate to decimate the structural headquarters by a dive bomb of one of their primary vessels. Taking to the skies, with Monroe's body in company, the salvager raced from the wreckage and departed Coruscant with what troops were not already cut down. With heavy heart and anger tainting every moment, the proud warrior was laid to rest on a pyre surrounded by the vode and allied friends to pay respect to their fallen Lady Liberator. An oath sworn by the Mandalorians that day was set in stone as was the memorial statue of Monroe in the Hall of Heroes.

War was on the horizon, and it was tasted by every Mandalorian that drew breath. Their own had betrayed them, and called them to surrender to the Sith faction. The loyalty of the vode had been tested and torn apart by this traitorous act, and the Mandalorians marched for war. Empress Teta lay in their path, and the might of the Mandalorian army stormed the planet with ferocity and strength. The Sith answered back with their own waiting legions to commence in a war that would affect the Galaxy at large. An epic campaign of unyielding will against unbreakable foes. The resulting clash of the epic and glorious war saw the might of the Mand'alor the architect; Gilamar Skirata pitted against his own brother, the ensnared puppet of the Dark Lord; Ordo. War droids clashed in the air ripping into each other while they attempted to win the collective battle over each other's indominate will.

The ground battle however was where Azrael rode, coming into the heat of conflict with a specific team picked out to decimate their foes. Pressing their advantage and marching into the depths of hell itself, trading blow for blow as Sith Lords arrived en masse to square off against the determined vode. Lives were lost, and warriors from both sides fell to the conflict. The turning point of this particular war however was still the fight against Ordo himself, and in the finality of the conflict, Gilamar was struck down, shifting the tide of battle and making it more about avenging the fallen than simply confronting their turncoat brother. Even the release of the mighty Leviathan did not stop the stronhold of the Dar'Jetti and it soon became apparent to Azrael that with Ordo out of the Dark Lord's grasp, that the reason for their presence on Teta had been sealed – and he ordered a tactical retreat to leave the world in the Sith's grasp while they took back home the bodies of the fallen. It was one of the darkest days of Azrael's life, as he had now lost both his Father, his big brother, and the first Mand'alor he'd ever served under in the space of a single month.

Under Construction




  • [member="Gilamar Skirata"] (Adopted Father)
  • [member="Anastasia Rade"] (Adopted Sister)
  • [member="Devorah Khaladan"] (Mate)



Solus Irud



Dead Links due to site wipe of 11/8/13
Cached Links recovered through Google