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Malakon

The world is a funny place, you know?

Deep down inside, everyone thinks that they're special, that they're better than everyone else. On the streets of Lyrenn, survival almost mandates it. Each one of us keeps an eye out for that special person or event that is our ticket OUT of the ordinary world.

Description Height: 6'1" Hair: Straw Blonde Eyes: Brown Apparent Race: Human Malakon looks out of place. That's the best way to describe him. Or perhaps the best way is "socially awkward." In any case, he looks like he FEELS out of place. There's always an air of edgy discomfort about him. Perhaps that's because he was raised an orphan on the streets. He DESPERATELY wanted to fit in there ... the streets were his family! ... but he never did. There was always something about him that made his fellows urchins give him a great deal of room. He would catch them looking at him out of the corners of their eyes ... Maybe it was because he was so much bigger than everyone else. He had problems fitting into the windows and chimneys that the others could negotiate without thinking! (Sure he mostly hung out with halflings, but kids can be so cruel). Or maybe they were jealous, because he was smarter, stronger and faster than anyone in the slums except for Cerebus (Cerebus was a different matter entirely). Who knows. If you look at him now, you can see he still feels awkward. He has new finery - a gift from a mysterious stranger that won't even reveal their name. It's fortunate that the stranger favored dark greys and black – they hide the grime of the streets well. The effects of a thorough clean and shave have worn off by now, and his strawlike hair has begun to stick out at odd angles again. When he uses a sword, however, the awkwardness drops away. Those who have watched him fight liken it to a dance, beautiful and deadly. And recently, something else has happened to bring light to his eyes - magic has entered his life, and he will never be the same again.

Just so everyone knows, up front, I'm not to be trifled with. I'm a bad man, and if you don't keep your words and stares to yourself there's gonna be problems.

Now, for the story

Well, like I said, I'm a bad man. I was born and raised on the streets of Lyrenn. Don't know who my parents are and I don't care. I don't need 'em. I've got me myself and I, so I should be just fine. Stop laughing.

OK, then.

So, young loveable scamp in the city. How does he survive? Well, I never really took to thievery. I mean I took to it OK, in fact I probably could have been one of the greatest thieves ever, but that really didn't fit my style, you know? Old Lady Brandistock was really good though, and so I let her keep her business running the way she wanted. Sure, I had to turn a blind eye to racial prejudice and all, but I loved the little lady, and I couldn't bring myself to break her heart.

So, when I wasn't hanging out in the headqua—at Ol' Lady Brandistock's house, trying not to step on the little guys, I hung out along the docks and hung out with the sailors. You know, I'd love to have a boat sometime, and just sail off. I bet they have really great adventures on boats.

Anyway, sorry, I found out I had a knack for sword work. In exchange for helping lift stuff, (small stuff when I was young, but I think I grew faster than anyone else ever has), the sailors would teach me sword fighting and things like that. Eventually, I was doing odd jobs as a hired sword, protecting ship cargo along its way to a warehouse or the like. Or to a party. I got to help carry in these ice sculptures one time, to a big to-do over in the Temple District. I'll bet it was pretty difficult carving ice like that. I wonder how long it took. Hopefully, it wasn't too long. How do they keep it from melting?

Anyway, life was pretty good, but really really boring. I always figured I was meant for great things. At least, that's what I told everyone else. Then, on my 15th birthday, this lady collars me and tells me she'll pay me a suit of chainmail and a brand new sword if she can teach me how to use them.

Her eyes looked funny - like they were focused about a half-inch BEHIND my eyes. She gave me the creeps, but she knew what she was doing with a sword. By the time I get to be her age, I'll be loads better than her, no doubt about it. But anyway, she took me to the Grounds and we sparred every day for weeks, at the same time each day. She never told me what her name was, or why he was doing it. When I asked, he told me it wasn't important, and that someone who WAS important saw some potential in me. I figured that was good enough.

Suddenly, one day, she says "Ok it's time for your stuff." She hands me a shiny new suit of chainmail and a sword and says "Go for it." Then she walks off and I never see her again.

I guess I'll go and take a job as a sailor. I think sailing would be great. But, the new acts are in town today. Maybe I'll go check one of 'em out first.