Hadriel App/Info

[doctoral_bird]

PLAYER
Player name: Tater
Contact: birdemic or direct messaging to doctoral_bird
Characters currently in-game: N/A

CHARACTER
Character Name: Malkus Iverwelling
Character Age: 33
Canon: OC
Canon Point: During one of his many ventures into the remnants of his homeland.
World Description:
Malkus' world is one that's nearly reached the end of a large chapter, at least on the surface. The above world has been ravaged by a pestilence so devastating that it could only be the byproduct of a shoggoth sleeping beneath the ocean. This blight manifests itself as a plague of web-like mold that spreads with a voracious thirst for any vitality rich organics. Spread by clouds of white spores carried in the wind, the mass falls upon towns and villages like a gossamer blanket. The general time and level of technology is closer to the early 1700's. Which is to say, fairly old but not so much that the culture shock would kill Malkus.

Initially, while it was a very localized plague contained by proper plague doctor management, the Sigh (a name attributed to by the chilling sound that rolled through the fields of newly released spores) had claimed the lives of enough trained professionals that it soon fell upon the unwashed masses to stave off an epidemic. Consequently, entire cities fell, and the once valorous profession of the Plague Doctor was twisted and burned into the minds of the people as nothing more than roving bands of scavenging abominations, stealing the lives of those barely sick in the hopes of regaining control over the countries health. The iconic bird mask had become associated with fear and pain, and those who wore it absorbed it into their identities.

There was a silver lining to this decaying globe, though! Recent tunneling operations had unearthed vast caverns leading deep into the depths of the abyss. A dark, foreign realm where the faintest traces of ethereal, otherworldly energies could be found pulsing through the core of the earth. Humanity was gearing up to enter the unknown. After all, in a world where a shoggoth's peaceful slumber had released the end of the overworld, there must be an element of paranormal mystery tucked away beneath the surface.

History: Malkus was a young apothecary conscripted into the plague doctors created in response to a violent plague. Well. He USED to be a young plague doctor. Nearly a decade later, Malkus was a ruined husk of pestilence in a world defiled by a nearly sentient mass of mycelium shed off by a shoggoth. It's a dry mouthful. Malkus' world was in tatters due to a mass of web-like mold that drained the life from everything around it. It's not all bad! Pockets of life still thrive, and tunnels into the dark abyss below seemed promising enough for humanity. Malkus and his flock still roamed above ground, eradicating what they could and scavenging any materials for what remained of civilization. They're the good guys, obviously. At least that's what Malkus would tell you. It simply made sense. The dirtiest jobs were usually the most necessary for the machinations of civilization to run smoothly. A culling here, and a reaping of blighted souls there was a necessary evil-... perhaps even that was too strong? A necessary rudeness for the sake of humanities future. Caravans of settlers were entering the Dark after all, and they needed quite a bit of light! Creature comforts helped their adjustment. With the deaths of the artisans, it only made sense to rid the corpses of their goods. It's what they would have wanted. Respect for the wishes of those gone was something Malkus held dear, and who would not wish for the comfort and security of those still alive? Fiends of course! And the property of a fiend was forfeit in death anyway, so there you had it.

Malkus was born in the town of Greenest, to a loving family. Having always had a proclivity towards flowers and herbage, Malkus found comfort surrounded by the peaceful misty woods surrounding the town's walls. Be it bones, bug shells, feathers, or pebbles Malkus had an almost magpie-like tendency to collect and keep trash found on the forest floor. Usefulness, he was raised to believe, was an energy that rarely vanished. Every little thing had value and charm. As he grew, this extended to the world of apothecary. He found alchemy to be one of the truest forms of extracting every bit of usefulness from the natural world. Malkus became rather adept at the art of crafting essences; brewing tinctures that would stitch a man's wound shut before their very eyes. He was on track to become a renown apothecary, until things fell to pieces.

From the coast, an unknown froth boiled up from the sea. Environmentally worrying, maybe, but once it had dried all hell seemed to have broken loose. Being able to to tear through the coastal villages before anyone could send word out heralded doom for the rest of the continent, and soon nearly every inch of land had some form of malignant deformation. Animals went into a frenzy, bubbling with pathogenic insanity. Only the most fortified cities were able to quarantine themselves and burrow deep into the earth. Malkus was not of a caste wealthy enough to afford to remain behind these walls, and was thus conscripted into the growing plague doctor flocks.

During this time, he got much work done. Their iconic robes and masks served as their only line of defense, and such items were eventually embedded deep into Malkus' psyche. In the early stages of the plague, when their surrounding lands were beginning to show signs of doom, Malkus was one of the few who seemed to focus most of his efforts on healing the populous. He made great strides in the health of the masses. Unfortunately the efforts of him and a few others were too meek to cause any true change in what eventually revealed itself to be the plague doctor's true purpose. A tool of harvesting and collection in service to those who were still alive and required many resources to continue building beneath the earth's crust.

In service to, but never allowed to join the safety of the inner cities, Malkus and his kin had to survive by any means necessary in the fields of his home country. This meant uncivilized, sometimes savage acts were committed. Food was scarce and even the holy herbs and consecrated garments couldn't filter out all of the decay as they began to live more off the tainted land and less off of the meager rations provided. Strung along by a promise to enter humanity's arms once more, the plague doctors dug and tore into fields of webbed blight, carrying large sacks of salvaged wood, metal, and even bone.

It was a slow change, occurring over the many years after his own home's territory was overcome, but Malkus' very being had changed. Arms that once strained under the weight of the dead slowly grew denser. His fingers rubbed raw against the rubble grew malformed, blackened with ash and elongated into surprisingly articulate claws. The doctor's appearance became rather abominable, and even his mind eroded over time. Yet they drove on; a mass of oilcloth and productivity in the name of mankind. Quietly working for a future that would likely no longer accept them.


Personality: Malkus, at his core, does his best to retain a polite atmosphere in spite of everything he has been through. Although what constitutes as "polite" for him may differ from the norm in some areas. Mainly property and the appropriateness of bringing death to the sick and dying. What motivates him is the notion of returning to civilized society, and you of COURSE want to be ready for such an occasion. He's built up so many pleasantries in his head; social events, weddings, tea parties. And in between forays into the ruins of towns and villages, he's had much practice in the art of bowing and tipping his hat. Despite his ragged, emaciated appearance, he does his best to hide the things he is embarrassed of. Which brings us to his mask and garb. Malkus is ashamed of basically everything about his deformed appearance. While his face still retains a passingly human facade, his body may have evolved away from what is acceptable for a gentleman to have. Gloves are a must, to cover those clawed hands and forearms coated in their blackened carapace. His robe, long and flowing (never mind the many stitches and patches) covered the mildly elongated abdomen and thin but unusually dense legs. While he can't do anything about his slouched posture, the rest of him is generally covered in an attempt at hiding. Social ineptitude aside, he'll do his best to uphold a polite manner of carrying himself. Malkus has gained some hobbies to pass the time, and these include collecting things he finds beautiful. Mainly bits of glass, stone, and what amounts to garbage for everyone else. A small part of him knows how far he's fallen and he absolutely does not like to be reminded of this. He's not a violent man, but his cowardice can make him very uncouth if he feels his life is on the line.

Inventory: A long rusted lancet tucked in a wooden carrying case. His robes and mask. A satchel at his hip containing a metal bowl and dented container for water. On his back is a very large sack made of thick cloth containing: a roll of animal hides, a fairly large amount of scavenged jewelry and gems and a gathering of dried herbs and mushrooms.


Abilities: Like riding a bike, Malkus has never lost his proficiency with potion crafting. He's able to make some grand alchemical brews but that is all limited by his available reagents. His arms are only moderately stronger than an average person's, and mainly excel at digging and shredding through the already dead. Having gotten used to eating his fair share of pretty terrible, horrible things, Malkus is pretty hard to poison or make sick in general, but he's far from invincible.

Flaws: For all his putting on airs, Malkus is barely holding onto his humanity. He's not an especially evil man, but he is selfish and sees grave robbing as nothing less than an absolute necessity to his job. Malkus has killed many at this point in his life, and will prey upon someone if they're on the verge of death. That eternal slumber is preferable to one's suffering, right? He's still very much a cowardly man, though, and will definitely bend to intimidation and is easy to shoo away. He is best described as a vulture that was once a gentlemanly scholar.


SAMPLES
Action Log Sample: He coughed and wheezed; the wind kicked from his lungs. Pain wracked his senses, shocking his nerves enough to scramble his thoughts. Recollect yourself, Malkus. Where were you last? What were you doing? It was the residential district of Old Willwood. Silks were top objective this evening, same as candles and oils.

"W-Where? O-Oh my- my back. I-..." he sputtered out, muffled by the displacement of his beaked mask. Was he on his back? The man reached around and felt what seemed to be gravel beneath him.

"I must have fallen. Foolish-... Silly doctor. Right, right. That- That cursed ledge." He mumbled, adjusting his headpiece enough to see once more. The sunlight shone down from above. Malkus struggled to his feet, finding it hard to find purchase on the uneven footing. Who on earth filled a pit with gravel? Having finally scrambled up, he knelt to retrieve his bag. The light was warm. Too deeply colored for cold gray stone. It was tinted with a bit too much dull yellow.

"Oh... Oh lord."

A bone pit. He froze, stood atop a pile of skulls and other miscellaneous ossein. Ossein? 'Bone' didn't go by any other name, did it? Malkus pondered, as he shifted and staggered up the side of the hole. It wasn't his first time tumbling down a pit. Honestly, it was refreshing to not tumble down one of his own creation for once. But still, there were rules!

"That's a violation. S'against the procedures. S-Supposed to have your heaps marked!" Malkus stammered with his usual, indignant stutter. One of his brother's was going to get their ears boxed! "Could have been hurt!" He yelled, dragging his possessions behind him to join the line of dark figures on the horizon. What kind of unruly lout finishes a bone pit and doesn't think to mark it off? They weren't animals! The more he dwelled on it, the more offended Malkus grew. "We're supposed to set an example! Poppyville's flock made an ossuary! That's a whole house of worship and we can't be bothered to make a tidy heap? We're going to look so foolish!"