Malachi Black

[Deleted]

Malachi Aeron Black




I dig my hole you build a wall
I dig my hole you build a wall
One day that wall is gonna fall

Gon' build that city on a hill
Gon' build that city on a hill
Some day those tears are gonna spill

So build that wall and build it strong cause
We'll be there before too long

Gon' build that wall up to the sky
Gon' build that wall up to the sky
Some day your bird is gonna fly

Gon' build that wall until it's done
Gon' build that wall until it's done
But now you've got nowhere to run

So build that wall and build it strong cause
We'll be there before too long

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Full Name - Malachi Aeron Black
Nicknames/Alias - Dirge, Mal
Age - 43
Date of Birth - February 29th
Gender - Male
Sexual Orientation - Heterosexual
Affiliation - Neutral
Occupation - Pirate

Play-By - Mads Mikkelsen
Build - Lean
Height & Weight - 6 feet, 178lbs
Hair - Used to be a dark, dirty brown, but has largely paled into an unkempt mop of burnished silver and gray
Eyes - Green on the outside & hazel/brown on the inside
Unique Features - many scars, including one to the right of his navel that spans three inches wide. He has a matching scar on the small of his back, the edge a quarter inch from his spine. It is where he was run through with an actual sword while his ship was being boarded. Odd, jagged scarring on his right hand around his thumb, it's slightly deformed.
Dressing Style - Malachi doesn't really care about fashion, not in the traditional sense. He wears a lot of black and leather, mostly because it hides stains and is pretty durable. His tastes are rather eclectic too, so it's not unusual to find him with odd bits of metal or other adornments like scarves and the like added to his clothing. (See app pic, sig, and avatar for examples)
Other - Dirge's toys:
His sword
His kukri
His amputation knife
His karambit
His super shorty
Sarah's violin
What holds the tokens from his victims

Likes - [At least 5] Redheads, knives, fighting, money, being by himself, not having to raise his voice, blood, his violin, his "work"
Dislikes - [At least 5] Obnoxious people, guns, children, being on-planet, those that don't respect his personal space, interruptions to his "work"
Quirks/Habits - He is generally very taciturn and laconic in his speech, only saying what is absolutely necessary. His hands are never still, they always want to move, play with his knives, etc. He tends to stare at people, making them uncomfortable.
Fears - [At least 1] Someone finding the "tokens" he keeps of the girls he kills. Not being able to be in space any more
Secrets - He is a psychopath and serial killer. He renders young, red-headed women unconscious and then euthanizes them painlessly, wrapping them up in a burial shall and leaving them carefully wrapped and protected before they are found. He has a small lock of hair from each girl that he's killed over the years.
Strengths - [At least 3] Cool-headed, competent medic, jack of all trades for keeping a ship running, bartering
Weaknesses - [At least 3] The only ranged weapon he can use with any accuracy is a shotgun at close range, redheads, speaking to women, needs to kill every couple of months or he gets anxious. He will get worse, becoming extremely manic-depressive until he manages to kill again.
Talents/Special Abilities - [Up to 3] Intimidation, extremely skilled with blades
Aspirations - To retire from this life of crime and continue his "work" in peace
Overall Personality - Dirge isn't a very talkative soul. He never has been. It isn't that he lacks social skills; he just prefers not talking too much. In his experience, those that talk the most have the least to say. When he does speak, he says what needs to be said, nothing more, though his tone tends to have a wry, sardonic twist to it. He's cool under pressure, but that isn't to say that he doesn't have a temper. He can be wrathful, but it isn't something that's explosive. No...he adheres to the axiom that revenge is a dish best served cold. He'll smile all the while he's twisting the knife within your guts. Fairly introverted, he prefers his own counsel and when not engaged with something that needs to be done on the ship, he prefers time to himself. The only exception to this is if he's playing his violin or if he's hunting for his next victim. He's fairly severe by nature and not one to brook a lot of idiocy. Surprisingly, he's good at getting people to listen to him when it comes to dealings on the ship. This is most likely because he leads from the front, always the first to get involved in something, and he keeps his words clear and to the point. If that doesn't work, well then a swift blow to the head or some other subtle threat has proven to be effective time and again.

Father - Auriel Black (Deceased)
Mother - Rhona Black (Deceased)
Siblings - Willem & Netalya (Fraternal Twins, Deceased)
Other Significant People - Sarah Olivieri (Fiancee, Deceased)
Pets - None, they don't survive long
Your History - The family Black had a luck that matched their name. Malachi was the youngest of three children, the first two being fraternal twins and three years his senior. Having never done well in the core planets, Mikhail scrounged up enough money to get the tools and passage necessary to head to one of the border planets in an attempt to scrape together a new and better life for him and his family. They boarded their transport, crammed into the ship with twenty-plus other desperate, hopeful families, and took off for Miranda.

Malachi was five.

Depending on your point of view, they were either lucky or unlucky enough to never make it. The Alliance had already begun testing PAX in small areas, in preparation for their first, full-scale attempt. It had started with a crew. It ended with that crew too. It had an effect, though not the one they'd intended. Most of the crew died at the hands of a handful of the military science vessel's personnel that had been driven beyond rage. It was the Alliance's first use of the chemical and it led to the first Reavers. Those tormented souls found the ship that the Black's were flying on.

The results weren't pretty. Chaos and death followed. Malachi watched his father butchered while his mother shrieked and tried to run and find some place to hide with her young children. Unfortunately, you can only run so far on a space ship before you run out of room...as she and the others on the ship found out. His sister was the first to go...she tripped and fell. She never had a chance to get back up as other colonists trampled her in their flight. The next was his brother, who was very brave and very stupid as an eight year old trying to attack one of the men going after their mother. He died quickly.

That just left Rhona, running with a bawling Malachi in her hands. Finally cornered in a room with the Reavers beating down the door, she managed to pry loose an air vent on the floor and push him inside, beseeching him to stay quiet, to not say a word, no matter what. Surprisingly he listened... As the door came down and his mother screamed...he watched and listened while she was raped and murdered. He stuck his hand in his mouth to stay quiet, biting down hard to silence his crying, even as he tasted blood and felt the pain.

One small act of mercy was that the pilot had managed to send out a distress call and an Alliance cruiser was not far off. They managed to arrive at the beleaguered ship the next day...but the Reavers had already left and they found no clues as to who or what had caused it. What they did find was a five year old boy...the sole survivor. Struck mute, he was no more help.

He bounced around the system for years...never getting much in the way of help and certainly never getting adopted. No one wanted the strange, silent, scarred boy that woke up with screams. He was left on his own a lot, so no one noticed how he began to catch animals and slowly take them apart. He was a product of the system for ten years until, one day, he finally slipped away. Not knowing where to go, he found his way to the docks. Two years were spent there, on his own, doing odd jobs, picking pockets, and committing outright theft to keep himself fed and clothed.

Then he happened to meet Sarah. She was like an angel. So innocent of face with vibrant red hair and stunning blue eyes. He'd only caught a glance at first and, figuring her an easy mark, he'd gone to snatch her purse. Pulling it free, there was a moment where the two stared at each other, her in surprise and he in shock, before he managed to slip away. For a moment, she'd look unbelievably similar to his mother with her flaming hair and brilliant eyes. Unsettled, he'd slipped into an alley once he was certain he wasn't being followed to recover. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one there. He'd slipped into the territory of another group, a group that he'd fought with on many occasions. They came upon him and began to beat him down and attempt to take the purse.

That was when Sarah came...lawmen on her heels. They broke it up, arresting the men. For reasons unknown, Malachi handed the purse back to her just before the lawmen began to arrest him. Then the unexpected happened: Sarah told them to stop. For reasons unknown, she told the lawmen that he'd gone to try and regain it for her. It was a blatant lie, but they had no reason to believe otherwise and the beating certainly seemed to be corroboratory, so they let him go.

Sarah was a year younger than him. She was a gentle soul, a musician that played the violin for an orchestra. For reasons even she didn't know, she had felt the need to protect him...felt as though there was something more to him. They became fast friends, despite their completely separate lives. She even talked her father into getting Malachi a position on one of his transport ships as a deckhand. Surprisingly, he was very good at it. He even found a use for his youthful predilection for dissecting living animals...it melded well into learning how to treat people for injuries as he learned alongside the ship's medic.

Two years later and they were set to be wed. Due to her beliefs, she had wanted to wait until marriage. He was on his way back from a job when he received a Wave from her father. Sarah had been attacked, beaten, and raped. She was in a coma. In the end, she never woke up and she eventually succumbed to her wounds. Once again, Malachi watched the woman he cared about die, a victim to the darkest, most wicked part of the human psyche, while he was helpless to do anything.

It was then that his mind...already vulnerable and cracked from the horror of his youth, shattered completely. Never again would he let the evil of the universe spread its filth and darkness to claim the innocence and light. He would protect them from the darkness by never giving it the chance to find them. He would find them first.

Taking Sarah's violin as a keepsake, he threw himself back into his work. As the ship he was on travelled and made stops, he would invariably come across others...innocents that reminded him of his mother and Sarah. His methods were simple. He would find them, learn their habits. Once he had a window, he would make his move. The first step was to knock them out, using chloroform or another agent that would allow them to be rendered unconscious with minimum of fuss. He always went out of his way to ensure that they were not hurt. Once he had them, he would take them to a prepared location. There, he would give them a lethal injection while they were unconscious so that they would never wake up and take a lock of their hair. He'd then carefully wrap them in a burial shroud. He would place them someplace that he found beautiful and leave a bouquet of flowers with them.

When he was twenty two...three years after Sarah's death, he'd become a well travelled spacer and had even taught himself how to play her violin, though the only songs he played were sad tunes and soulful melodies. This was where he earned his nickname, "Dirge". Then, one day, his ship was set upon by the Morrigan, a pirate vessel. They attempted to fight off the boarders, but, eventually, they were overwhelmed. Held on his knees with the rest, they were forced to watch as the pirates went through their stuff. When one of the men put a hand on Sarah's violin case, Malachi lost it.

Breaking free from his restraints, he managed to slice the throat of one of the pirates with the karambit that he kept in his boot. He then went straight after the pirate, forcing him to let go of the case and defend himself. The pirate had a longer blade...a flat, wide sword. The extra reach helped keep Malachi from getting too close until, at last, he just rushed in.

He received two feet of steel through his gut for his troubles. The grin of victory left the pirate's face, however, as Malachi grabbed the wrist holding the blade and drug himself forward on it until he was close enough to repeated stab the man in the throat and chest, taking him down. Grievously wounded, Malachi drug himself over to the case, curling around it and resigning himself to death.

Unfortunately, the pirate captain had watched this exchange and found himself impressed. He had Malachi taken onto his vessel and patched up. When he awoke, the young man was given an offer: be a part of the crew or watch the violin go up into kindling.

Malachi chose to join.

He's been a pirate ever since. An able deckhand and reliable bit of muscle, he's proven himself valuable on several pirate vessels. He learned a little bit about everything, never quite getting a niche, but able to fill in for where ever he was needed. He found the life suited him. When they were at port, he received less scrutiny about his personal dealings...making his mission of "protecting" innocent girls that much easier...and the lucrative, if ill-gotten, rewards helped pay for what he needed to make it happen. The last five years found him back aboard the Morrigan, this time as her first mate. Though several opportunities had come for him to take a ship for his own, he always turned them down. He never wanted his own ship...he was content with helping keep one in order... it gave him more time and freedom to do what he felt was his real mission.

At long last, however, its captain decided it was time to retire, selling ship and splitting with crew, leaving Malachi as a free agent...a pirate without a ship. Having spent 26 years on ships and in space, he felt uncomfortable being grounded and was already looking for the next opportunity to travel the stars.

There were other women to save, after all...

What should we call you? - Vex
Roleplaying Experience - A hint
Where did you find us? - I am all-knowing
Prove Yourself - Really? Being staff isn't shiny enough for you?
Post Script - absolutely anything else you would like to mention about your character should go right here.
Other characters - look on the right side of the site
How we should contact you - PM Vex
Roleplay Example - Dirge packed up what meager items he kept for his person, looking once more around the cramped room that served as the First Mate's cabin on the Morrigan. The ship was showing her age. Hell, who was he kidding...she'd been showing her age two decades ago when she'd first flown into his life and upended it for the third time, helping to fully strip what little goodness and wonder that had been left in his life.

Not that there had been much then... not after three years without Sarah. Certainly, there hadn't been much there after he'd "saved" his fifth girl, leaving her body in a small park, lying beneath an apple tree as though she were enjoying the shade.

The memories of her and the forty-nine women that he had met since then flickered through his brain while his muscles moved on autopilot and continued packing. He had a few sets of clothes, which were unceremoniously put into a pile. He didn't really care about most of his possessions. When they fell apart, he tossed them and got new things. There were only a few exceptions to this, all of which were laid out on the bed. The first item that was put into the duffle was his most cherished. It was a worn looking, leather-bound book with metal bindings and a lock. It was, in actuality, a safe, and he held the only key. Within were the carefully taken and labeled locks from those he'd "saved" from the darkness of the world.

Atop of that, he piled what he had for clothes, giving little care over them getting wrinkled. He had no other personal items, save for the clothes he had on, the weapons that were laid out, and the violin case that rested at the head of the bed. With the clothes filling up the bag, he carefully squeezed that case in, having just enough room for it while allowing him to close the duffle still. Once that was done, he shrugged into that long, much worn jacket and began to put all of his weapons into place. The karambit found itself back in his left boot. His shorty was slid into its specially-made holster on his left side. His longer sword rested in the scabbard on his right hip. Both kukri and that wicked amputation blade were holstered to the small of his back, upside down in friction holsters for easy retrieval if needed.

Combing fingers through that unkempt, shaggy silver mane, he looked at himself in the mirror...he had a shadow of gray stubble on the gaunt, severe line of his jaw. Those green/brown eyes stared at the weathered face that looked back at him. After a moment, he shrugged, turning away and stepping out of the door.

In his stomach, something curled. It was hunger...but not for food. This need couldn't be sated with such mundane fare. He needed to see to it another way. He needed to work...to protect the innocence from the darkness...from people like himself.

The green fire in his eyes burned a sickly, poisoned hue.

SYR INTEGRA of CAUTION 2.0 created this and she will happily hunt you down, rip out your spinal cord, and beat you to death with it if you steal her hard work and claim it as your own. especially since she will gladly share it with any and all who wish to use it, provided they leave her nice, little credit attached.

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[Yautja]

You.

Are.

Approved.

^{May I suggest that next time, he avoids people with long swords when he has nothing but a knife...}