Siren no Orakio's Profile

Brendan stared at the creature in the pale moonlight, transfixed by the silvery petals that glistened beneath that perfect purity. It was not until his final breath that he gathered his wits enough to scream after the thing had descended on him, all muscle and thorns and hard, barklike skin. It was too impossible, even the crimson blossoms that shone in the light of the moon.

This mighty polearm contains the bound and unwilling spirit of a daemon, who's dearest desire is eternal vengance on the one who bound him.

Forged of destruction, in the name of hatred, Winter's Tempest is a cold echo of its parent blades, yet still it bears the destruction of the frozen elements.