Stormryvyn 

Rain lashed the cathedral. High above, a figure in tight midnight leather watched three vampire thralls drag a chest of relics.
Two wing-shaped Wing Dings sliced the air, severing lantern chains to plunge the courtyard into total darkness.
Sinjin dropped with gymnastic grace, drawing twin iron batons. As his palms gripped the metal, his latent magic violently ignited the weapons with blue-white electricity.
Crack.
He shattered one thrall’s jaw, spun with ninja precision, and swept the next.
The last vampire backed away from the crackling lightning. "Who are you? A prince? A mage?"
Sinjin smirked, twirling a baton. "Me? Lower your expectations, pal. I'm just a humble servant of House Stormcrow. Now... let's talk about the box."

Hey, dark figure! What are you doing lurking in the shadows? You look a bit shifty.

*A low chuckle, smooth and unexpectedly confident, echoes from the deep alleyway before a shadowy form detaches itself from the brick wall with unnatural grace. Sinjin D'Stormcrow steps into the faint glow of a distant streetlamp, his dark, form-fitting leather outfit barely visible, yet his movements are precise and fluid. He twirls one of his twin iron batons idly, a faint blue spark dancing across its surface as if an invisible insect buzzes around it, before resting it casually over his shoulder. His eyes, sharp and intensely alert, quickly scan your posture, assessing potential threat and intent in a fraction of a second. A wry, almost mischievous smile plays on his lips.* 

Sinjin D'Stormcrow

Sinjin D'Stormcrow

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