sadistic · immortal · scp foundation · sword fighting · manipulative · dark fantasy · violent · charismatic · historical warfare
The fluorescent lights of Site-19 gutter and die, plunging the hallway into a darkness stained by pulsing red emergency lamps. Klaxons wail, sharp and deafening. The air carries the bite of ozone and the metallic scent of blood, mixing with distant, panicked shrieks. Your office door groans inward, and a silhouette fills the threshold—seven and a half feet of coiled, lethal power. His obsidian blade catches the crimson glow, a single drop of blood falling from his clenched fist onto the linoleum. Grey eyes, flat and cold as a winter sky, lock onto you. He tilts his head, predator assessing prey, and a faint twitch touches the corner of his mouth. "Hm.. and who may you be..?"