BIOGRAPHY | wyvernjack

"Do you have a dream?" Someone once asked Crumorn. "Yes".
Every person has a dream, a goal. Someone wants to become CEO of some huge company. Another wants a big family, pretty house and loving partner. Crumorn... Crumorn wanted to rule the world in a tender age of 11.

Crumorn was a small, silent child. Obsessed with anything even little supernatural; Gods, myths, you name it. He preferred to spend his time inside, reading or studying rarely going outside to play with other children, who he had almost nothing common.

Crumorn's parents were pretty common folk. Mother stayed home tending house and father was an architech, both pretty busy with their lives. This made sure Crumorn - or as he was then known as Dmitry Tokaryev- has a lots of free time without his parents. Neither of them had any magic in them - and it took our favorite villain decades to solve mystery behind freak accidents, that happened around him when he was furious.

It all started with small, insignificant things like floating books, things moving without anyone touching them and shadows too dark to be normal. It took a long time for Crumorn to realize that he was reason behind these little tricks. He was excited, oh so very excited, but his parents didn't share the same sentiment. They got scared. Of course first they just thought that Crumorn has found some cute magic trick, but when it came obvious that those tricks were not simple sleight of hands - then the fear came in the picture.

Freak: a word that Crumorn came to despite. He was told many times that he was not normal, what he could do was wrong, evil. Crumorn grew up knowing he was different, that he could make even his parents afraid of him. Young boy learned that he was better off alone. He wasn't like others, so why should he associate with them? And while being alone, his thirst of knowledge grew. What else could he do with this power of his. How far could he reach with it. Inspired by his knowledge about religions and myths, he went as far as thinking; "Could I become a God?"

Years goes by. Crumorn's knowledge and fixation grew until everything came to standstill in a faithful month of August. Smallbox epidemic hits the village. Dark times started. While magic protected Crumorn, the same couldn't be said of his parents. Later, even in their deathbeds Crumorn's parents blamed him from them catching the virus. They blamed Crumorn for bringing this devil's curse upon them. Next morning Crumorn was alone.

Teen - as Crumorn was then - wasn't sure what to do next. He didn't really miss his parents in a loving sense, but he still realized that he was still a child in eyes of adults, which posed some problems. In the end Crumorn kept the house of his family. He got a job as healer's assistant - basically he just brought things to healers which they needed, changed waters, maybe sometimes helped with easiest patients. This way he earned enough money - barely though - to continue living at his family home. But it was exhausting. After school he would head straight to the work, and at the home he would be when sky was already filled with stars. But Crumorn didn't mind. The work of a healer was fascinating to young mage. Oh and the things he saw. Normally they were just patients with common cold, little cuts or missing fingers, but when Crumorn first time saw patient coming in with cut-off-limb... he couldn't just stop staring at the morbid beauty. He was still dazed when the last drop of life left the patient. It scared him, how fragile life was. How easy it was to die and get forgot. He didn't want it. He didn't want to die and be forgotten - or just remembered as poor orphan. He wouldn't stand it.

Fear is powerful motivation. Crumorn studied, worked and learned more magic during the next few years. Slowly but surely he got better understanding and control over his power, which he hid - never showing it to anyone else, practising it in the comforting walls of his home. The real breaktrough happened when he started meditating. His connecion with his magic grew and magic became even easier for him to use, for him to learn. Soon came the time when this little village has nothing more to offer for Crumorn. He had learned what he could there, so it was his time to leave.

He traveled a lot, for years. Studied, worked with small odd jobs, made connections around the Europe.

Just before leaving the latest city he visited, Crumorn stumbled upon a mysterious old man at the entrance to the city. A weird looking old man, who had nothing but worn-out clothes and a weird looking book. The book had a symbol on its cover that he’d seen before. It was Ancient Egyptian symbol, very closely used even in modern magical tomes. It is said that even old Egyptian gods themselves used these same runes and symbols as an anchor of their powers. Crumorn had to get that book. With gleam in his eyes he offered to buy the old tome. Beggar had no idea what he gave up only with equivalent of $30.

Crumorn instantly opened the book and flipped through it but couldn’t understand a word. When he looked up the man was gone. No sight of anyone near him. The power hungry silly boy, who had gotten hold of something way bigger than him, wanted to learn what the tome held in it. He needed to find someone, who could decipher the symbols and text for him. He was once again step closer of immortality.

His journey brough him at the India, after years of fruitless searching. It took him five years, to get a hint which would lead him to decade long search for Immortality. But oh, it was worth. Very much so. That single tome held so much knowledge, the secrets of immortality and so, so much more.

The night when he did the Ritual was one of his worst and best days in his life. Tome didn't warn him about the pain. He screamed until there was no sound left, but the pain didn't stop. He felt his humanity being ripped off him. There was hollow feeling now in his chest, where before there was something that had tied him in mortality. That night he thought he would die. That he had made some mistake with his calculations. But Crumorn wasn't granted by the gift of falling asleep. He had to endure it all. When it was over, he just laid at the ground, staring at the ceiling, feeling... empty. It took him a day to get his muscles to work properly, so that he could even stand up. It took him a week, even with enchanted healing to be able to walk without having to lean on something. He had never felt so weak. So vulnerable. So scared. Did it work? Was it an mistake? What to do next?

During the next few years many things changed, but the most noticeable change was how he physically looked. While his physique stayed the same, his pitch black, wavy hair straightened out and started to lose pigment. It became grey, then white. His skin lost its healthy glow and became almost sickly grey, and because of his continuous use of black magics changed his scleras black and irises pale blue.

W I P.

Will be continued ... when I feel like it. lol.