Atharen, A Fantasy Roleplay Forum

Malikyth is an enigma, as his personality holds many facets born from his upbringing and trauma. Some facets he displays openly but there are darker notes that are kept locked away, hidden beneath his facade. If one were to delve a little deeper, Malikyth has several personality traits that set him apart from most.

• Charismatic: From the allure of his eyes, the seductive tone in his words, or the inviting language his physique hints at, Malikyth is a charmer through and through. As the main facet that most who meet him experience, Malikyth is known to be that one friend you can come and spend hours talking to. Because he is not from the lands of Radenor, the mixed blood does his best to meet new people, and his charm allows him to draw people in to get to know them better. His manner is pleasant and soothing, something he learned from watching his foster mother when she dealt with her clients.
  
  Bloodthirsty: Somewhere deep down under the surface of his peasant exterior stirs a thirst for bloodshed. It was first noticed by his foster father when they killed the bandits that took his mother. His first time spilling blood was the first time he was able to vent and express the hatred he had for the bandits and the grief he never got to deal with from losing his mother. Killing those who deserve it most is not so much a want, but more so a need as it's a drug for him and in some ways therapeutic.
  
  Whimsical: Truly a whimsical & free-spirited soul, Malikyth is not one to truly follow the norms or tradition laid into the foundation of his surroundings, if it so suits him, opting to forge new paths and avenues that many wouldn't consider themselves. Upbeat and charming, Malikyth enchants those he meets with his cheerful smile and laid-back attitude. He sees the world through a childlike lens, easily excitable and thirsty for positive reinforcement from those around him to fill whatever void that is empty. Growing up poor, he has an odd love for bread, as it was one of the first things he ate when he was found by the mage guilds of Radenor. Sometimes in forms of payment, he will simply ask If he can have the finest loaves of bread they have as he enjoys it so much as a child would.
  
  Psychopathic: This guy is a definite nutcase! At first glance, he seems to be composed, charming, and approachable. Under all the formalities, he’s truly an unhinged individual, always referring to those he kills as Lambkins. He regards himself as an apex predator, being that he enjoys mage hunting and all. He’s always on the search for the strongest of opponents, an old habit that was ingrained into him during his time within the cult. He is pretty obsessive in this regard.

• Things I Like:
  Battle| Magic| Training| Honing his talents| Adventuring| Testing his limits| Meeting unique people| Reptilian creatures| Red and its many shades and hues| Dragons
• What Pisses Me Off:
  Prejudice| Narrow-minded people| Those who hinder him| Most of the Nobility| Timidness
• My Virtues:
  Open Minded| Perceptive| Charismatic| Determined
• My Detriments:
  Reckless| Nihilistic| Unempathetic| Obsessive| Bloodthirsty

• Malikyth is well developed for his youthful age. Working as mage labor and a slayer of men and beasts does a body real good, from wrestling matches or seeing who can do the most push-ups among the guild. His frame is that of mesomorphic build, sporting a large bone structure, large muscles, and a naturally athletic physique. His face is symmetrically round accented by the piercing color of his eyes and well-groomed facial hair. He is always wearing a well-kept brush cut as it's easier to breathe during the Searing seasons. Underneath his clothes, he has a myriad of tattoos of tropical and tribal artistry on his body, one ranging from the upper right side of his body and across his right shoulder blade as well as one that spans down the length of his left hip and thigh.
  
  Racial Ability:
  • Rakish Might: Orkhai are known to be considerably stronger and more enduring than other races, due to their powerful physiques. Their muscles are thicker and denser than others, which appears to give them enhanced strength as well as durability. While this difference is not all too vast, it offers them a predisposition toward being dangerous melee brutes.

"I honestly can't say how my life before coming to Radenor would have ended up as, I was too young to really care after what I had been subjected to. My parents were killed when I was only three years old, fleeing from somewhere I couldn't even tell you and oppression. It was upon my arrival in Lorien that I found salvation. With no one to protect me, I was in the care of a mercenary, one who seemed to have had a soft heart for orphaned children, as I was not the first.

She was able to fill the void of a parent we all needed, taking such a rag-tag of orphans and turning us into a family, as we settled in villages outside of Daravin. She taught us many things, from academics to social skills, Languages becoming fluent in Silvain and able to hold conversations in Mor'drub for some reason, survival skills, and most importantly, how to fight. Combat training was my bread and butter, it made me feel alive, the zing of steel and sparks igniting the air and my soul. She said I was a prodigy in the art of combat, and I couldn't agree more, as it came naturally to me.

She taught me lessons in combat through practice, as she was a blade and mage for hire. I learned about the family business, both in theory in lectures and hands-on by joining her in the field. From ages 10-15, I was always hard at work, training, and trying to perfect my skill with the only weapon that felt right in his hands, a blade of some sort. She also taught us the ways of magic, imparting on me the Mark of Brand, and shepherding me in my journey with magic. She instilled in me the importance of tranquility and being one with myself and my weapon in order to prevail in battle. It was tough, but I pushed through his training.

This was the final step; with it, I learned an important lesson as a warrior: no matter who your opponent is, fight as if it's your final battle. It was a lesson I would carry with me into every battle afterward. My life with her and my pseudo-family was nice, and I was starting to finally settle into this life. After some time traveling with my new family as a mercenary, I then found myself in the company of an up and coming warrior named Teresa. I liked her, as she helped me cope with my past in ways that my family couldnt. The two of us became close, and eventually fell in love and were thinking of the future. By the time I was 19, we had set out on our own, finding ourselves on the border between Daravin & Radenor. Together we were blades for higher, and we were making quite a comfortable life for ourselves, so much so that nine months later we welcomed a baby boy into our lives who we named Zaldrin.

But like most things in my life, nothing good ever lasts forever. I was 22 when I and Teresa found ourselves at the mercy of a rival mercenary group. They had been pressuring us to join them, to fight in the skirmishes between Daravin & Radenor, but he had turned them away time and time again. They outnumbered us greatly, but we were always allowed to go about our business, till one day the leader of the group had finally had enough of our stubbornness. They caught us by surprise, and before I could launch into battle everything went black.

When morning came I found myself woken by the cold air of Frost. My eyes blinked into focus as I looked across from me. It wasn't a dream after all. Sobering me up was the lifeless body of Teresa, she was dead, it was all real, not a nightmare I thought I had from drinking some bad ale. My hand reached for her, the body of the mother of my child. She was dead and I was close to death myself. I wished I could have done more, could have protected her and...... Wait was Zaldin ok? Grunts of pain escaped my lips as I forced my aching and sore body out of the pool of blood and onto my feet.

Heavy sighs and gasps escaped my lips as I struggled to get to where the young child had been sleeping. Upon reaching the cradle I felt the tears fall. Reaching in I held my son, and let forth a wail of all my sorrow and anger. They didnt deserve to die, not them. I would have been fine if it was just me to have died, but to take my own family, the one thing that mattered most to me, that was a fate worse than death. She was my pillar of strength, we had a bond that most would never be able to understand nor experience, and she was no longer with me.

That alone wound up the rage of my Orkhai genetics. My body became warm in defiance of the cold winds that swept through the cabin. I knew only finding and slaying those responsible would quell the inferno that was my rage. But there was one problem with that plan. I had lost too much blood, my body was broken in some places, and I could feel my consciousness fading.

I fell to the floor.......my dead wife was several feet away from me. I struggled to get to her, to make it to her. My son was still clutched in my one arm, as I used the other to inch and crawl my way to her. Tears and blood dripped across the floor as I moved. With every inch gained it felt like I was losing an inch of my life.....what remained of it anyway. Once near her I clutched her with my free hand, and wailed, crying for my family.

I knew I couldnt just wallow in this loss, however, as they deserved vengeance. So I musted the rage, the anguish of my loss, and marshaled it into strength. I had to survive this, I had to live on for their sake, even if it was for the sole purpose of revenge. I needed to go kill the bastards that took everything from me. Yes, the merc band that harassed them and did this would pay dearly for this transgression against me.

A few hours had passed and I was on the hunt, doing what I could to maintain his condition. It was enough to keep him going, it's not like I needed to live once my revenge was carried out anyway. I could happily die knowing that the people responsible were dead at my hands. That alone was the fuel to my fire, what pushed me to go on as I hunted these people down. It wouldn't take long for me to find them, they always hung out in a tavern in the town near us, and once I was there I set my vengeance into motion. Traveling to the village they had been held up in, I struggled to keep my consciousness as I trudged along.

I wouldn't be content until I killed them, but it didn't seem I would make it, my body was broken from my injuries and blood loss. Collapsing into the snow, I wept and consigned myself over to death. But as luck would have it, death would not come for me that day. No someone else appeared in my blurred and blood-splattered vision. It was vague, but I could tell the figure was male before passing out, my previous injuries now catching up to me after such physical exertion.

When I woke I was in a room, bandages wrapped around my body, the male figure from before standing there looking over me. His eyes were piercing but observant. He presented me with a choice. I could either join the Mage Guild he had brought me to after discovering my marks, or face execution for being a rogue mage. I found myself wishing to die to be with my Teresa & Zaldin, but he assured me that there was more to life than this one tragic moment and that those responsible would be dealt with accordingly. He made me a deal, if I agreed to join his guild, he would help me find a reason to live, a purpose. As I said, death was not ready to come for me that day, and for the last three years, I have been working within the mages guild, putting my talents and skill to use.

Seeing as I have where else to go, I have become content with my new life in Radenor, using my talents to hunt down dangerous elements and erase them from existence, which become the most fun part. Though I strive for more, and I know this is only the beginning."

Combatant Starting Package
1 Set of Clothing (Cloak or Coat and footwear included)
1 Waterskin
1 Backpack which contains:
1 Set of Toiletries
10 days of rations
1 Set of Eating Utensils (i.e. tin plate, cup, fork, spoon, knife)
Flint & Steel
1 Set of Armor (Light or Medium)
Players can select a complete set of basic leather or chainmail armor.