Full name: Osiris V. Krum Age: 87 Gender: Male Race: Forsaken/Undead (Whichever you prefer)
Description of look:
Armed with only a shotgun, Osiris Krum does not have an imposing demeanor. Standing at 5 foot six inches, with dark grey skin, like old ivory, and a foggy, broken monocle. Long black hair, crudely tightened by two dark leather straps. Bright yellow eyes, with a wicked grin always upon his face.
Born into the poor Oorton family (Of Westfall), Osiris found a fascination with mixing different materials, and getting a new, interesting concauction. His father, a poor farmhand, banned the practice, accusing his son of dealing with witches. His mother, ever passionate, encouraged him to continue with his mixes, under the blanket of night, of course. One day, when working on something to help the crops grow, he saw his father walk out to the yard. odd, his father usually sleeps till' noon. He watched, as his father was met by three other men, each wearing light mail, and all armed with swords. they looked to be arguing, and Osiris could hear only faint words.
"You need to pay now or feel the price of-"
"They are coming!"
He looked on, dumbfounded. His father punched a man, a loud 'THUD!' as the man his a barrel. Another man, burly, and armed with the biggest sword, butted his father with the hilt. His father face broke open, as blood streamed down his cheeks.
"LET THEM TAKE ME THEN!"
He heard his father yell, as the sword was dragged into his belly by the man he punched. Killing him.
After news of his father's death spread across Westfall, his grieving mother was barraged by tax payers. They could not keep up with the payments. One night, she woke 16 year old Osiris, and told him that they were leaving forever. Armed with nothing more than some glass tubes and food, they headed towards Stormwind.