(MaleDom) Monstrous, Muscular, 8ft Drow Vampire seeks Playthings.

Name: Iliph'dael Faralyn

Race: Drow (Dark-Elf, Vampiric)

Sex: Male

Age: 1,376

Sexuality: Bisexual - Feminine Preference

Role: Switch (Dominant-Lean)

This elf stands tall and imposing, covered in muscle and toil alike, his scent wrought with blood and sex. His eyes detail a cold lunacy inside of them, consisting of a single-minded desire. Though this warrior is tired and worn, he appears to be sustained by some form of unearthly power. An unholy aura radiates around him, draining the warmth of spirit out of the world wherever he may walk.

Iliph'dael Faralyn hails from a race of subterranean elves that claims their home deep beneath the earth. Drow, they are called. From what little lore that could be divulged upon these elusive creatures, it's said that they enjoy a solitary existence and flaunt a contemptuous nature to the outside races of the world. Like most of his ill-begotten kin, he is vain, self-righteous, and intolerable of the world beneath his perceived superiority, but strangely enough, appears to have a grudge against his own kind. He is an exile.

Chains drape from his body, abundant in link and each as burdening as they look. They look as if they were, at one point, used to restrain this giant, but despite this, he's somehow managed to break free of them. Was this man a prisoner or some sort? He may have been punished and cast from his home, a thought by how many lashes have been burrowed into his back. The scars have faded, but the presence of a humiliation remains gouged into his flesh. These...runes dance all across his body, each one looking as if it had been painfully seared into his skin, one right after the other, glowing and hissing whispers of an eldritch darkness. They beckon his stalwart body. All of this hints to some dark past he's trying to escape from.

Even as scarred as he might be, muscled and great is his pride. So tall does he stand, his powerful pectoral muscles so satisfied to awe, standing at a defiance to what little sunlight manages to wash over his amazing physique. A flex, a pose, and the slight groan of his muscles brag that he is proud of the war-torn body he has. The vigor of a gallant stallion graces this man’s masculine beauty, even if he appears to be little more than a savage, but, something else is amiss with his unnatural grace: He doesn't seem mortal, not anymore at least.

This man seems to have been stricken with a sense of wanderlust. He treads around the world, burying it beneath his powerful, ebony feet, with no apparent care for the repercussions his actions might bring. Although he is quite destructive, he is not devoid of a purpose. He appears to be searching for something, driven by some unvoiced motivation. He is usually quiet and if he must speak, he's extremely blunt, often snide. However, there is a clear sense of intention in his eyes, proclaiming more.

______________________________________________________