Raf, Rafe, Wrath








A tall, lanky young man that stands almost 2 meters high (that would be 6 feet for us Yanks). He's got dark brown hair with redish highlights and he wears it short on the back and sides with front and top a bit longer and normally spikes it up. Most would find him to be a good-looking young man with a aquiline nose; sharp, thin cheekbones; a squared-off jaw; and a crooked smile. His eyes are an odd shade somewhere between brown and red, with little flecks of gold. He tends to wear what seems to be a bit of a permanent smirk, though the twinkle in his eyes takes away the arrogant quality to it and softens it into something more good-natured. He moves with just a little swagger, a lot of confidence. He's in good shape, frame wise, being lithely built with solid muscle-tone from being active outdoors. He is also fairly heavily tattooed across his chest, arms, and hands. Some of it is fairly self-explanatory: flames; Hebrew, Arabic, and Greek inscriptions; and across his chest is a pair of flaming wings. Written in Hebrew characters across his hand is Sheitan. His left ear is pierced.


Rafi tends to wear tight shirts with some kind of nerd or gaming reference, tanks, or the occasional jacket/hoodie/vest along with dark or khaki cargo pants. In fact, he has an inordinate amount of cargo pants in his wardrobe. When asked, he says they're great for all the pockets. He also has quite the collection of various amulets and charms including, but not limited to: a cross, a Jewish star, various crystals, and a myriad of others. He only wears 3-4 at any one time though. He wears one ring on his right ring-finger, a simple design of Celtic knot-work. He tends to wear various kinds of earrings in his left ear.


Rafi seems to be a laid-back, fun-seeking young man. He is rarely serious and uses humor often. He has an irreverent attitude without being insensitive. The truth is, he does everything in his power to remain calm or at least in a good mood to avoid horrible accidents with his powers. He enjoys playing games of all kinds, whether they are card, board, dice, or video games. He also likes movies and TV shows, reading, and a bit of drawing, anything that allows him to relax.

However, despite his best efforts, sometimes his extremely volatile temper does come out. For him, the quieter he gets, the more dangerous the situation until he explodes… sometimes, literally. But he always feels bad afterward. If he does get into a bad mood, he tends to brood and shut himself away until he can cool his temper. He uses meditation techniques from various faiths and disciplines to keep his temper under control. Rafi's motivation is simple: everything he does, everything he's done in the past, all of his hobbies and everything he will do is about learning to control his powers, to either learn to always remain calm or to find some way to use that emotions with his powers without them going out of control. He hopes that the Academy can help him with this.


Born in Tel-Aviv Israel, he was raised by his maternal grandparents. His mother was a Mossad agent that was killed while on a mission when he was a baby. His powers were discovered when he was quite young. He'd been having a particular violent nightmare. Rivers of fire, belching smoke. When he'd awoken, his bed had been engulfed by flames. Yet he'd been unscathed. His grandparents realized that he would need instruction. Especially as he grew and the more emotional he became (anger in particular was a trigger), the more out of control his powers became. And as he grew, it wasn't just fire that seemed to be at his "command", though it was still unstable at the best of times, but also earth. His grandfather had found that when he was trying to teach his 6 year old grandson how to play soccer. Young Rafi had gone to kick the ball and sent a tremor of earth into the makeshift goal instead.

He spent the next ten years trying various methods to keep his powers under control. Nothing has been completely successful, but he's gained enough control where he isn't constantly setting things on fire accidentally… unless he gets really angry or experiences some other strong emotion. He was invited to the Academy to help learn how to channel his abilities in order to help others after an incident on the subway proved that his powers could be invaluable to others, provided he could control them.


He's surprisingly tech savvy, particularly with computers and video games. He is a true nerd in that respect. He also has a decent singing voice, though it's hard to coax a song out of him unless he's in the shower. He's also mechanically inclined (probably because he's had to fix quite a few things he's broken and/or torched…) He's also a half-way decent artist. He also knows several styles of martial arts (learned them while finding ways to control his emotions)


He keeps a little pouch of tools in one of his many pockets (he always has to remember which one, though). In his front pocket, he always keeps a smooth stone of what looks like polished obsidian with a rune that is etched into the surface.


Anything to do with fire or earth is at his command. He is immune to fire or burns of any kind. His powers are spiritual in nature and are done by will alone; he does not need incantations or spells. He can conjure and control fire at will. Of course, fire especially often has a mind of its own, especially if emotions get involved.


Strong emotions can cause his powers to go out of control, often hurting others. While he is immune to fire, he is not immune to other injuries, just like anyone else. He bleeds just like anyone else. So while he could survive the fire of an explosion, the shock wave or debris could still hurt or kill him




Sunlight filtered through a crack in the curtains, bright beams falling over his eyes. Rafi Cohen slapped both hands over his eyes, grumbling under his breath, still mostly asleep. When that didn't seem to help, he yanked his pillow up and put it over his head for good measure. That might have worked, except for the loud pounding on his bedroom door. "You up yet, Rafi?" his grandmother called out, opening the door without waiting for an answer. "Bubbee," he groaned, peeking out from under the pillow. "C'mon, it's Saturday. I'm trying to sleep."

She tsked under her breath. "It may be Saturday, Rafiush, but you need to get your things together. We're leaving tomorrow, remember?"

"Wait, it's tomorrow?" he asked, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"That it is. Get up now. Get dressed. Breakfast is on the table." The kindly older woman smiled at him and bustled out. Rafi flopped back onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling. After a few moments, he huffed out a little breath and climbed out of bed. He only wore a pair of cotton boxers with grinning skulls over it. He reached up and grabbed the cross beam over his head. His room was on the top floor, in the corner where the roof angled up. Rolling his neck, there was a crack as his vertebrae realigned. Some more stretching and the vertebrae in his back made the same kind of dry cracking sound. Running a hand through his hair, Rafi yawned and went to his little closet. There was a small chest of drawers built in. Over the beautiful dark wood, scorch and burn marks could be seen. He grabbed a pair of dark brown cargo pants, pockets riddled over the sides from the bottom drawer and slid them on one leg at a time. Still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he groped around and grabbed a shirt off a hanger and threw it on, the fabric creating static cling so it molded to his torso. He went to his dresser, a piece that matched the drawers in his closet, the same kind of burn and scorch marks scaring the wood. On top of the slick, polished surface was an onyx keep-safe box. He opened the lid and took out a single earring. It was a red stone on a simple silver chain. He slid the backing through the hole in his ear, then reached into the box again, pulling out several different necklaces. First, he threw an intricate silver chain with a crudely cut amethyst pendant over his head. The pendant hit him around mid-chest. The next one was a ying-yang made of two different stones. A thicker chain of silver links went on next. After checking in his mirror above the dresser, he ran a hand through his hair, not bothering with a brush or comb. The ruffled, spiky look suited him. Whistling, he grabbed the hoodie he'd tossed over his desk chair the night before and headed down to the kitchen.

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