Malrion
11-11-06, 03:12 PM
Name: Malrion
Race: Quickling
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Hair: Unkempt Blond
Eyes: Frosted Blue
Height: 1'11"
Weight: 17 lbs
Occupation: Spunky Thief
Appearance: Standing at just less than two feet, this creature looks like a miniature elf. His features are sharp and feral, and he has icy blue eyes that glare maliciously like an evil child. His unkempt blond hair licks past his outrageously long and pointed ears, and just about reaches the collar of his flamboyant shirt. This dress shirt, sized to fit the quickling, is the color of a furious fire, so that when he runs around it appears in a dazzling blur as if the shirt is burning. For comfort and just ‘cause it looks good, the ostentatious shirt is completely unbuttoned, revealing the sprite’s sleek torso, and the sleeves are rolled up passed his elbows. He also wears loose jeans, a thin belt, and a new pair of running shoes that have the design of lightning bolts on the sides. Lastly, he carries a small, sheathed dagger on his hip.
Personality: Zealous, hyper, and outrageously outgoing, Malrion's thoughts are just as hard to keep track as he is! He can never seem to focus on anything for long periods of time, due to that fact that he is easily distracted even by the most mundane of things. This speedy sprite is eager to meet new people and make friends, but will often leave them—having known them for but a day or two—in order to meet more. He believes that he's alive in order to have fun. Some days he may find joy in torturing a sleeping wanderer, and just as unpredictably other days he may save that sleeping wanderer from a pack of ravenous wolves. Because of his ever-changing nature, he's hard to control and understand. One thing that is blatantly apparent, however, is that if he wants something he'll go after it no matter the cost.
History: “There is not much information pertaining to the history of Malrion the spunky little quickling bastard. What is known is that one summer day about five years ago, he came to be a prickly little thorn up our Asses. I was walking along the main street of our small little village, carrying a basket filled with colorful fruits. My shabby home was on the perimeter of the town, facing the grassy lands that surrounded the town. Facing off to view the marvelous rolling hills, I spotted something startling, a flashy pinpoint off in the distance. In the span of a second, it grew ominously closer. In another second, I could hear a sharp buzzing sound, and if I hadn’t known that bees don’t live in this area, I might have been worried. Baffled, I didn’t even realize at the time that I had dropped my basket emptying the variety of fruits. I blinked, and then gasped as I saw the creature standing fifteen feet away. I didn’t know what to say. I’d never seen such a thing in my life.
The quickling, though at the time I didn’t know what it was, fortunately spoke first. A string of syllables spewed forth from his mouth, meshed together so that I couldn’t decipher one word that the thing had just said. I heard a quick buzz, and knew that the creature had moved. I didn’t see it—he was so fast!—but I realized that he now had a rosy apple, one that had been on the floor, in his tiny right hand. Everything he did appeared as a mesmerizing blur, hypnotic and dazzling. Putting the apple to his mouth, biting, chomping, swallowing—I couldn’t keep track and it was both intriguing and frightening at the same time. The quickling spoke again, trying to speak slower, but it was still extremely fast with no pauses. He said, ‘My-name’s-Malrion-wanna-be-my-friend?’ It was awkward and out of the blue. I didn't know how to respond. After a few moments, though, I opened my mouth to reply, but then... the quickling was gone. He must have found something else of more interest. I recollected the escaped fruits and ran the rest of the way home.
What followed over the next five years was an unpredictable string of events. Every day, the infamous quickling would sprint into town and do whatever he pleased. Things disappeared from one house or store and reappeared in another. Other things were destroyed or painted on. The little prankster couldn’t get enough of himself, and nobody could stop him. Truthfully, I must say that not all the things he did were bad—testament to his unpredictability. If you were lucky, he’d run errands for you, and do tasks in a tenth the time any body else could. Not only that, but he’d find missing pets all the time, which led many to suspect that the reason they went missing was his fault in the first place. Life was weird in those last five years, and when only last week Malrion didn’t run into town, like he did every single day for the last five years, things felt different, both good and bad. I don’t know where the randomly mischievous little thing has gone, but wherever he is I’m glad he’s not with us.”
Skills:
Innate Agility: Moving in a dimension where time takes no precedence, Malrion—like the other members of his rare race—can move exceedingly fast. His feet can move a hundred times a second, and his speech is often a slur of incomprehensible words. When running, he is almost invisible even to the keen eye, and yet if one were to listen closely a slight buzzing sound can betray his presence. Because of a recent injury, however, the quickling's pace has been drastically slown down to the point where he's only three times as fast as a human.
Equipment:
Dagger: Almost nine inches overall with the sharp, steel blade being about half that length. The smooth handle is made out of ebony.
Race: Quickling
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Hair: Unkempt Blond
Eyes: Frosted Blue
Height: 1'11"
Weight: 17 lbs
Occupation: Spunky Thief
Appearance: Standing at just less than two feet, this creature looks like a miniature elf. His features are sharp and feral, and he has icy blue eyes that glare maliciously like an evil child. His unkempt blond hair licks past his outrageously long and pointed ears, and just about reaches the collar of his flamboyant shirt. This dress shirt, sized to fit the quickling, is the color of a furious fire, so that when he runs around it appears in a dazzling blur as if the shirt is burning. For comfort and just ‘cause it looks good, the ostentatious shirt is completely unbuttoned, revealing the sprite’s sleek torso, and the sleeves are rolled up passed his elbows. He also wears loose jeans, a thin belt, and a new pair of running shoes that have the design of lightning bolts on the sides. Lastly, he carries a small, sheathed dagger on his hip.
Personality: Zealous, hyper, and outrageously outgoing, Malrion's thoughts are just as hard to keep track as he is! He can never seem to focus on anything for long periods of time, due to that fact that he is easily distracted even by the most mundane of things. This speedy sprite is eager to meet new people and make friends, but will often leave them—having known them for but a day or two—in order to meet more. He believes that he's alive in order to have fun. Some days he may find joy in torturing a sleeping wanderer, and just as unpredictably other days he may save that sleeping wanderer from a pack of ravenous wolves. Because of his ever-changing nature, he's hard to control and understand. One thing that is blatantly apparent, however, is that if he wants something he'll go after it no matter the cost.
History: “There is not much information pertaining to the history of Malrion the spunky little quickling bastard. What is known is that one summer day about five years ago, he came to be a prickly little thorn up our Asses. I was walking along the main street of our small little village, carrying a basket filled with colorful fruits. My shabby home was on the perimeter of the town, facing the grassy lands that surrounded the town. Facing off to view the marvelous rolling hills, I spotted something startling, a flashy pinpoint off in the distance. In the span of a second, it grew ominously closer. In another second, I could hear a sharp buzzing sound, and if I hadn’t known that bees don’t live in this area, I might have been worried. Baffled, I didn’t even realize at the time that I had dropped my basket emptying the variety of fruits. I blinked, and then gasped as I saw the creature standing fifteen feet away. I didn’t know what to say. I’d never seen such a thing in my life.
The quickling, though at the time I didn’t know what it was, fortunately spoke first. A string of syllables spewed forth from his mouth, meshed together so that I couldn’t decipher one word that the thing had just said. I heard a quick buzz, and knew that the creature had moved. I didn’t see it—he was so fast!—but I realized that he now had a rosy apple, one that had been on the floor, in his tiny right hand. Everything he did appeared as a mesmerizing blur, hypnotic and dazzling. Putting the apple to his mouth, biting, chomping, swallowing—I couldn’t keep track and it was both intriguing and frightening at the same time. The quickling spoke again, trying to speak slower, but it was still extremely fast with no pauses. He said, ‘My-name’s-Malrion-wanna-be-my-friend?’ It was awkward and out of the blue. I didn't know how to respond. After a few moments, though, I opened my mouth to reply, but then... the quickling was gone. He must have found something else of more interest. I recollected the escaped fruits and ran the rest of the way home.
What followed over the next five years was an unpredictable string of events. Every day, the infamous quickling would sprint into town and do whatever he pleased. Things disappeared from one house or store and reappeared in another. Other things were destroyed or painted on. The little prankster couldn’t get enough of himself, and nobody could stop him. Truthfully, I must say that not all the things he did were bad—testament to his unpredictability. If you were lucky, he’d run errands for you, and do tasks in a tenth the time any body else could. Not only that, but he’d find missing pets all the time, which led many to suspect that the reason they went missing was his fault in the first place. Life was weird in those last five years, and when only last week Malrion didn’t run into town, like he did every single day for the last five years, things felt different, both good and bad. I don’t know where the randomly mischievous little thing has gone, but wherever he is I’m glad he’s not with us.”
Skills:
Innate Agility: Moving in a dimension where time takes no precedence, Malrion—like the other members of his rare race—can move exceedingly fast. His feet can move a hundred times a second, and his speech is often a slur of incomprehensible words. When running, he is almost invisible even to the keen eye, and yet if one were to listen closely a slight buzzing sound can betray his presence. Because of a recent injury, however, the quickling's pace has been drastically slown down to the point where he's only three times as fast as a human.
Equipment:
Dagger: Almost nine inches overall with the sharp, steel blade being about half that length. The smooth handle is made out of ebony.