Darkness cloaks the streets of a small, deserted town - enveloping every living thing as if swallowing it whole. Although, one being seems to not mind this; defying the night's cold presence, barely sparing it a second glance.

Broad shoulders stand high and confident. Clad in leather the same shade as the midnight sky, a rich absence of colour; black. They shift slightly with every stride his whole body moving with a certain regency to it like no other. Rugged royalty of blood not known to be noble. His gaze is unnerving and bright, never faltering once as it analyses sharply whatever catches his attention. Like a cat watching it's prey.

The males hair is dark and moves to one side across his angular features smoothly. Lazarus' stature is defined and strong, like that of a stone carving. He wears black leather boots, buckled shut each with three intricately made metal clasps; their finish subtly worn off with how many times he has taken these on and off.

Resting on his back is a single sheathe that sits comfortably along the lining of a dark armour; the stitching showing this is hand made. It formed from a deep grey leather, with a small amount of embroidery that gave it a dangerous beauty. Extending past the ends of the sheathes are two individual crimson shaded handles, lined with several rows of fine stitching. They are solid and assured, just like the blades they lead onto. Behind their leather sleeves, the two katanas are metallic and refined like any well made weapon, with a raised seem running very lightly across the middle of each flat section of the blades. A touch from the forger. They have been delicately polished and kept clean, suggesting they are of importance to the male.

This male is someone who is not afraid to walk alone in his armour, bearing weapons by his side. A warrior.

"Shoot for the Moon. Even if you miss you'll land among the stars."