“By that sin, fell the angels.”
P s y k r o w
✿ I. Biography. Psykrow – [ Quiet ]
An odd looking corpse, by any measure, lay in the tomb of Elroth Surion. The decay of the body had seeped into the stone coffin which enshrouded it in darkness. A filthy, sick looking liquid poured from the cracks of the ornately crafted crypt. Whomever Elroth Surion was in life, he must have been indecent – unfit for the living world by the look, and far worse, the stench of it. Noxious fumes escaped their century-old entrapment, sending Psykrows sense reeling.
✿ II. Biography. Psykrow – [ Passionate ][ Armored ]
Although the warnings were clear as day, Psykrow had chosen to betray their caution. With the final rays of sunlight dipping below the horizon outside of the tomb, unrestrained violence exploded around Psykrow. Banshee’s howled with rage as Elroth was interrupted from his eternal slumber. Unprepared for their cries, Psykrow grabbed his head and pressed both palms against each ear. The meager defense was no use against their magical voices. The man felt as if his head had been turned to glass and shattered into thousands of tiny fragments by the wailing.
✿ III. Biography. Psykrow – [ Anti-Human ]
Time became meaningless to Psykrow. Seconds seemed like hours to him, and in the foggy mist of pain and agony there was no reprieve. There was only pain. It seared into his muscles and reverberated against every bone. How long it lasted Psykrow was unable to tell; the shrill cries of the banshees did not allow for a single moment of rest. He strained with all his might to not be subdued, yet he fell to his knees before the stone tomb. Not only did the cries of the banshees split his mind nearly in two, they also forced a violent physical reaction. Psykrow vomited blood onto the floor of stone chamber heaving it out in bouts. Thinking he could take no more, an eerie silence finally fell on on the tomb.
✿ IV. Biography. Psykrow – [ Ablaze]
Heaving and panting, still on his knees, Psykrow managed to bring his eyes up and look about himself. A cold hiss came from the torches whose light had turned into a blue tinted with black All about the man faceless shadows began to materialize from out of the underworld. He could hear his name being called, inviting him into the shadow beings’ touch. Psykrow knew it would be certain death to heed their summons, and he marshaled what was left of his will to stand proudly in front of the beings. Still breathing rather raggedly, Psykrow managed to find his voice.
✿ V. Biography. Psykrow – [ Ruthless ]
“You have been summoned,” whispered Psykrow into the darkness. From Elroth’s tomb rose a gray mist, spilling over the stone coffin in thick rolls. It seeped across the ground and began to fill the chamber. As the mist poured forth so came the accompanying smell of the corpse. Psykrows nostrils flared in revolt at the smell, yet he stood his ground firmly and awaited an answer.
✿ VI. Biography. Psykrow – [ Trustworthy ]
War torn muscles, charcoaled skin, pale hues that could see through just about any soul, his judgement never clouded, the wings that fold against the cool flesh of this being would have the strength of a handful of men, the tips emit a sharp smite of poison. His face scarred and not at all one of a human. He seldomly over-speaks, his stature is slumpish and he walks with a slight limp.. His heart he may at times wear on his sleeve, it yearns to beat at it’s fullest. A warrior, quiet and never will approach another, he has no trust especially in the human race. He carries an immense amount of charm.
Appearance : Evil
Intentions : Good
✿ VIII. Bio – Psykrow – [ Un-Armored ]
Armored always when not working to seek prey, when working he will dress as a normal being per-se. You do not know who he is when armored IC. He resembles your pale skinned everyday male. When on the job, however, seductive die to his race. He carries every capability a vampire would. I play my character to the T.
Job : Psychiatrist
Specie : Fallen Vampire
Age : 2435