'Szelhamos' (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sarcastass) wrote2025-06-26 01:25 pm
sarcastass) wrote2025-06-26 01:25 pm
History
Szel's life started as Levanael, a seraph originally created by the elder deity Azrael as a means for them to attain perfection; they lacked the ability to experience empathy for their mortal creations, and strove to create an equal for themselves as a teacher and an advisor. In their past attempts to become the Perfect God, Azrael had split themselves apart, separating their various feelings and internal concepts into physical beings, placed into arcane shells. These would be the older seraphs of heaven, chief among them being Camael, the seraph of Joy, Raguel, the seraph of Justice, Lucifer, the seraph of Ambition and Morpheus, the seraph of dreams. Morpheus specifically was crafted to act as a companion to the youngest of them all, Levanael, who would be created in a separate fashion unto them, made as an entirely autonomous being with his own free will, as to be expected from someone who was to soon become an equal. She embodied Azrael's dreams, and further more their hopes for their only true child, wishing to imbue the young seraph with the same desires that they had. However, when finally presented with the task of actually allowing Levanael to do their job, Azrael balked and refused. Telling the young seraph he was too inexperienced to possibly be of any help yet, they used this as an excuse to brush off his advice, denying him the very purpose he was created for the sake of their own pride, and dislike of criticism.
Azrael's constant stonewalling understandably left Levanael feeling isolated and confused, and while Morpheus tried to alleviate these feelings of rejection and neglect, she was only capable of doing so much for him. Seeing an opening, Lucifer took advantage of Levanael's open misery, isolating him further as he convinced the young seraph that he was the only friend he truly had, the only person who truly understood him. Separating him from Morpheus, he soon convinced Levanael that the only way to change his circumstances was to tear down the very structure of the world around them. With Lucifer bolstering his confidence, Levanael crafted the one and only great creation he ever managed to form: a thing he merely called the Lance, a weapon imbued with such deadly poison that it could rot even a soul. For seraphs, the only way to create something complex is to have a purpose in mind, a powerful desire that demands immediate fulfillment. The creation of this weapon was a physical manifestation of Levanael's feelings of bitterness over his circumstances, and desire to finally gain his creator's attention and acknowledgement in any form he possibly could. Lucifer then turned the despairing angel upon his only friend. Naive to the concept of death, Levanael struck her down, only realizing what he'd done as she lay dying upon the floor in heaven. There would be no saving her, and later her soul would be split into three fragments in order to avoid her complete destruction. Two would be reformed as the fairy queens, with the third too corrupted to achieve any form of sentience or stability. It would constantly require a host with a soul to keep it alive, cycling forever from fairy king to fairy king, leaving traces of Levanael's potent venom in each and every one.
Azrael, in a fit of pain and rage, threw both Levanael and Lucifer into Hell, and all the angels that were created by them as well, an act that damaged Levanael to the point where it shattered his wings and struck him blind. Lucifer took with him to hell a grand host of terrible and powerful creations, forming the hierarchy of Hell. For Levanael, it was just a singular and simple insect-like bauble, crafted by him in an attempt to alleviate his loneliness, adoringly named Midge. Unfit for anything other than this, there was nothing standing between Levanael and the violent, poorly overseen fallen angels that had once been subordinates to him.
Where in heaven he was considered a soon to be deity, in Hell he was nothing but another inmate in a sprawling prison. Being the low man on the totem pole is unpleasant anywhere, but doubly so in prison, more so when you have no love of violence and lack the ability to defend yourself. Levanael was subject to horrific abuse as he struggled to survive for those first few centuries. It left him marked for life, one brutal attack permanently disfiguring his face to such a degree that regardless of what form he takes, steps have to be taken to hide it. Even then, moments of high emotion still threaten to break the facade. It was only by eventually participating in that violence himself that he was able to even begin clawing his way upwards in the ranks, the very lance eventually integrated into his own body, turning his blood into venom as a means of self-defense.
His fall nearly killed the only remaining friend he had left, Midge being too simple and weak to tolerate the energies of Hell, and in a desperate bid to save him, and lacking the skill and knowledge to find a better way, Levanael tore his own now useless eyes from himself, aware that so long as they were in his cursed body, they would never see again anyway. Imbued with the power of a seraph, Midge was reformed into the shape-shifting companion he is today, the eyes functioning once more to a degree so long as they're within his body.
Levanael continued his rise through the ranks of Hell, aided by Midge who was now capable of assuming forms powerful enough to tangle with some of Hell's more dangerous denizens easily. Levanael soon became known for his unique brand of terrifying cruelty; displaying his acts of violence in public before crowds of demons and sinners alike as he broke and warped his body further into the shape of a massive spider, willing to shred his own flesh in the interest of harming others and spilling his vile, venomous blood to poison all those who tried to dominate him. He humiliated, dismembered and devoured those who thought to challenge him, and even those who did not and simply sat beneath him in the hierarchy, afraid of descending back into that pitiful position he once occupied. To devour one's enemies is the only way of growing in power in Hell, and for centuries, Levanael gorged himself on the body and souls of any who fell afoul of him.
It was by this merit that he caught the eye of Beelzebub, the patron demon of the sin of Gluttony, and was welcomed into his domain. It was not simply because of Levanael's capacity for cruelty and violence, but also due to the fallen seraph's intelligence, penchant for order and photographic memory as a result of his original purpose. The library of Hell, the containment zone for the most dangerous knowledge and artifacts known in this world, existed within Gluttony's halls, and none could be considered a better steward and librarian of it than someone specifically created to retain and dispense knowledge.
It was there that he began to workshop different names for himself. Levanael wished to separate himself from the seraph he had once been, seeking to retroactively shield his younger self from the sins committed by the demon he had become. It was a form of denial that anything had happened, either to himself or to anyone else, and after multiple name changes he eventually settled on the Hungarian word for a swindler and a fraud: Szélhámos.
Now with access to this library of blasphemous knowledge, the bitterness and anger at his circumstances that had rotted a hole in his heart began to truly fester, as mortal after mortal continuously fell into hell, and his existence continued to stagnate. From all that he could see, nothing would get better, nothing would change, and everyone would continue to suffer indefinitely in an unjust and unfair world. Seeing no other option, he waited for the circumstances to be right, requiring a mortal to meet a multitude of standards to make them fit for their position as his tool to end what he saw as Azrael's incompetence. A human with no future, destined to die at birth, with celestial heritage that would make their body fit to contain the entity he intended to invite as this world's destroyer.
That human came in the form of Cassian, an Irishman born in the 9th century to a witch with some distant fae blood. Stealing the Black Book of Outer Gods from the library, a compendium of the eldritch pantheon that lay just outside their world, he slipped it into the care of Cassian's mother prior to his birth. When the time came, in a desperate bid to save her child's life, she utilized a ritual from its pages, unknowingly turning her son into a host for Hastur, the King in Yellow.
The presence of Hastur within Cassian halted the aging process somewhere in his mid twenties, and Szel genuinely believed that it would only be a matter of time before the constant loss, alienation and suffering caused by the world around him would drive the human to despair and madness, giving in to the outer god that now parasitized his soul. Szel however, did not count on accidentally choosing the most stubborn human in all of existence.
It's been over twelve hundred years since he cursed him, and in that long time he's spent constantly checking on his project, he's begun to realize what a terrible mistake he's actually made. Despite everything Cassian has been through, centuries of heartbreak, failure, pain and loneliness, he has continued on in spite of it all. Still sane, still living among people, refusing to allow his circumstances to destroy his belief in the goodness of man, though it has left him scarred and more than just a little jaded in many things. Still capable of loving, still capable of making friends, in stark difference to the fallen angel who sought to destroy the life of a stranger. A stranger that he now feels a sad, broken affection towards as the inevitability of the situation weighs on him.
The irony of what he's done, singling out an innocent person to suffer for his own failings, has not been lost on him.
Azrael's constant stonewalling understandably left Levanael feeling isolated and confused, and while Morpheus tried to alleviate these feelings of rejection and neglect, she was only capable of doing so much for him. Seeing an opening, Lucifer took advantage of Levanael's open misery, isolating him further as he convinced the young seraph that he was the only friend he truly had, the only person who truly understood him. Separating him from Morpheus, he soon convinced Levanael that the only way to change his circumstances was to tear down the very structure of the world around them. With Lucifer bolstering his confidence, Levanael crafted the one and only great creation he ever managed to form: a thing he merely called the Lance, a weapon imbued with such deadly poison that it could rot even a soul. For seraphs, the only way to create something complex is to have a purpose in mind, a powerful desire that demands immediate fulfillment. The creation of this weapon was a physical manifestation of Levanael's feelings of bitterness over his circumstances, and desire to finally gain his creator's attention and acknowledgement in any form he possibly could. Lucifer then turned the despairing angel upon his only friend. Naive to the concept of death, Levanael struck her down, only realizing what he'd done as she lay dying upon the floor in heaven. There would be no saving her, and later her soul would be split into three fragments in order to avoid her complete destruction. Two would be reformed as the fairy queens, with the third too corrupted to achieve any form of sentience or stability. It would constantly require a host with a soul to keep it alive, cycling forever from fairy king to fairy king, leaving traces of Levanael's potent venom in each and every one.
Azrael, in a fit of pain and rage, threw both Levanael and Lucifer into Hell, and all the angels that were created by them as well, an act that damaged Levanael to the point where it shattered his wings and struck him blind. Lucifer took with him to hell a grand host of terrible and powerful creations, forming the hierarchy of Hell. For Levanael, it was just a singular and simple insect-like bauble, crafted by him in an attempt to alleviate his loneliness, adoringly named Midge. Unfit for anything other than this, there was nothing standing between Levanael and the violent, poorly overseen fallen angels that had once been subordinates to him.
Where in heaven he was considered a soon to be deity, in Hell he was nothing but another inmate in a sprawling prison. Being the low man on the totem pole is unpleasant anywhere, but doubly so in prison, more so when you have no love of violence and lack the ability to defend yourself. Levanael was subject to horrific abuse as he struggled to survive for those first few centuries. It left him marked for life, one brutal attack permanently disfiguring his face to such a degree that regardless of what form he takes, steps have to be taken to hide it. Even then, moments of high emotion still threaten to break the facade. It was only by eventually participating in that violence himself that he was able to even begin clawing his way upwards in the ranks, the very lance eventually integrated into his own body, turning his blood into venom as a means of self-defense.
His fall nearly killed the only remaining friend he had left, Midge being too simple and weak to tolerate the energies of Hell, and in a desperate bid to save him, and lacking the skill and knowledge to find a better way, Levanael tore his own now useless eyes from himself, aware that so long as they were in his cursed body, they would never see again anyway. Imbued with the power of a seraph, Midge was reformed into the shape-shifting companion he is today, the eyes functioning once more to a degree so long as they're within his body.
Levanael continued his rise through the ranks of Hell, aided by Midge who was now capable of assuming forms powerful enough to tangle with some of Hell's more dangerous denizens easily. Levanael soon became known for his unique brand of terrifying cruelty; displaying his acts of violence in public before crowds of demons and sinners alike as he broke and warped his body further into the shape of a massive spider, willing to shred his own flesh in the interest of harming others and spilling his vile, venomous blood to poison all those who tried to dominate him. He humiliated, dismembered and devoured those who thought to challenge him, and even those who did not and simply sat beneath him in the hierarchy, afraid of descending back into that pitiful position he once occupied. To devour one's enemies is the only way of growing in power in Hell, and for centuries, Levanael gorged himself on the body and souls of any who fell afoul of him.
It was by this merit that he caught the eye of Beelzebub, the patron demon of the sin of Gluttony, and was welcomed into his domain. It was not simply because of Levanael's capacity for cruelty and violence, but also due to the fallen seraph's intelligence, penchant for order and photographic memory as a result of his original purpose. The library of Hell, the containment zone for the most dangerous knowledge and artifacts known in this world, existed within Gluttony's halls, and none could be considered a better steward and librarian of it than someone specifically created to retain and dispense knowledge.
It was there that he began to workshop different names for himself. Levanael wished to separate himself from the seraph he had once been, seeking to retroactively shield his younger self from the sins committed by the demon he had become. It was a form of denial that anything had happened, either to himself or to anyone else, and after multiple name changes he eventually settled on the Hungarian word for a swindler and a fraud: Szélhámos.
Now with access to this library of blasphemous knowledge, the bitterness and anger at his circumstances that had rotted a hole in his heart began to truly fester, as mortal after mortal continuously fell into hell, and his existence continued to stagnate. From all that he could see, nothing would get better, nothing would change, and everyone would continue to suffer indefinitely in an unjust and unfair world. Seeing no other option, he waited for the circumstances to be right, requiring a mortal to meet a multitude of standards to make them fit for their position as his tool to end what he saw as Azrael's incompetence. A human with no future, destined to die at birth, with celestial heritage that would make their body fit to contain the entity he intended to invite as this world's destroyer.
That human came in the form of Cassian, an Irishman born in the 9th century to a witch with some distant fae blood. Stealing the Black Book of Outer Gods from the library, a compendium of the eldritch pantheon that lay just outside their world, he slipped it into the care of Cassian's mother prior to his birth. When the time came, in a desperate bid to save her child's life, she utilized a ritual from its pages, unknowingly turning her son into a host for Hastur, the King in Yellow.
The presence of Hastur within Cassian halted the aging process somewhere in his mid twenties, and Szel genuinely believed that it would only be a matter of time before the constant loss, alienation and suffering caused by the world around him would drive the human to despair and madness, giving in to the outer god that now parasitized his soul. Szel however, did not count on accidentally choosing the most stubborn human in all of existence.
It's been over twelve hundred years since he cursed him, and in that long time he's spent constantly checking on his project, he's begun to realize what a terrible mistake he's actually made. Despite everything Cassian has been through, centuries of heartbreak, failure, pain and loneliness, he has continued on in spite of it all. Still sane, still living among people, refusing to allow his circumstances to destroy his belief in the goodness of man, though it has left him scarred and more than just a little jaded in many things. Still capable of loving, still capable of making friends, in stark difference to the fallen angel who sought to destroy the life of a stranger. A stranger that he now feels a sad, broken affection towards as the inevitability of the situation weighs on him.
The irony of what he's done, singling out an innocent person to suffer for his own failings, has not been lost on him.