Re: Malkus app [2/?] Backround [2/2]doctoral_birdApril 22 2011, 07:30:19 UTC
Hideous images burned into his eyes every day, dead bodies scattered about the area, swarms of rats. Nothing seemed to work or help. Seen as a monster, a demon sent by the devil to spread his death and decay, the few remaining villagers ran Malkus out of town. He had only tried to help but every lesson he learned seemed to be useless. This is NOTHING like the illnesses he studied. He had gotten in over his head. This was a monster devouring every soul it managed to engulf in its invisible mass. His only way out was to run into the woods, it didn't matter what happened after, he just knew he had to LEAVE. It was that or stay and be burnt to a crisp by the very people he tried to help. He fled into the brush, choosing to take his chances out in the wild.
Insomnia robbed him of sleep often; horrifying images of rats eating everything they could find, swarming around anything lifeless or too weak to defend itself, leaving only skeletons in their wake. It's understandable that he developed a phobia of rodents as well as the sick. Seeing what the disease did to a human body caused him to become some sort of neat freak, washing his clothes and body at any opportunity, taking the time to carefully clean each and every tool, vial, and beaker he had in his possession.
You lose track of time in the wild; the days just seemed to blur together after a while. Malkus had spent what felt like months in the woods, though don't be fooled; he is in NO way a rugged woodsman. When he wasn't staying up all night terrified of the noises in the dark, he was building up his little camp which consisted of a bed of leaves, what seemed to be a failed attempt at a number of fires, and a small little cleared out area where it looked like he tried to assemble a tent with twigs are more large leaves. It'd be a lie to say he didn't miss home or the town but there's no way he can show his face back there again. Not with the memories of what he's done. Perhaps someday he'll call somewhere new "Home" but until then this bed of leaves will do. Clinging to his medic bag, like he does every night, he lies down, pulling his mask off and his hat down over his face; still not trusting the "bad air".
It's been months since that tragic incident. Even after all this time it feels as if it was just yesterday that everything happened. It seemed that every bit of information he was given about the sickness proved worthless, he was about as good at helping the sick as an average farmer. Giving up is not an option however, he refuses to stop trying to learn and he will become a respected Plague Doctor, even if at the moment that sounds about as nice as "Respected Mortician" or "Respected Undertaker". There is no room for slip-ups, can't take chances, carefully watching each step and learning from his mistakes will prevent another "screw up" from happening.
Malkus app [3/?]doctoral_birdApril 22 2011, 07:32:03 UTC
3. Personality: Malkus may come off as a bit awkward occasionally, but he means well. Polite and kind, though easily frightened. After all that time in the woods, alone, you can imagine how cautious/excitable the poor doctor can be. Not very fun if you can’t tell if that’s a wolf in the bushes or stray cat. As far as goals go, Malkus would really just like to make sense of everything in his new surroundings. Surviving would be a nice perk, as well... He usually reacts to new things by trembling and hiding, or observing from a distance, but that might change over time. You can say Malkus is a bit adaptable, enough to have avoided getting eaten by a bear or some forest monster, anyways.
Appearance: A rather tall (6, maybe 6'1") fellow of little less than average width, about as healthy as someone who's lived off of nothing but raw and burnt vegetables could be. Very pale due to the fact that there is close to absolutely no exposed skin on him. On the head rests a wide-brimmed black hat with his face covered in a bird beak-like mask designed to serve as a primitive gas mask. Most of the body is hidden under a thick overcoat reaching down to the ankles. The top fabric covering almost all of the head, being tucked into his mask, leaving only his scraggly mass of hair to be hidden by the hat. A pair of patched up leather gloves covers his hands. Leather breeches, similar to waders worn by fishermen help to prevent any unwanted rocks, pebbles, or fleas from bothering his feet. He carries his medic bag wherever he goes, no matter what. It's a bit larger than a suitcase but not big enough to the point being unable to be carried with one hand.
4. Skills/Abilities: Other than a basic knowledge of sicknesses (Colds, Rashes, Runny noses) and very slight medical experience (Bandages and er…bandages…) he’s just a regular ol’ human.
5. Spoken/Written languages: English/Common
6. Items: Just his doctors bag (Containing: A pet rock, wooden spoon, and rolled up ball of cloth)
Malkus app [4/?]doctoral_birdApril 22 2011, 07:34:07 UTC
7. Third person sample: "I’m sorry! Please!" Malkus yelled, doing his best to hold on tightly to his bag as he ran through the woods, hearing the sickly yet rage-filled threats coming from his pursuers: an angry mob comprised of the few remaining villagers not yet taken by the cold claws of death.
All of these damn roots and bumps! It was as if the very forest was trying to be the cause of his demise, much like he was the cause of this horrid occurrence, or at least a large factor in the problem.
"I-I'm sorry, I did all that I could do!" he cried out again, his voice shaking as he jumped and ducked through the woods, trying to keep his mask from bouncing around his face, loosely tied to his head during this frantic escape. Running as fast as his loose fitting breeches would take him, tripping over the fabric of his coat; everything seemed to have been thrown on in a rush and was blowing around in the wind, his hat hardly clinging to his head.
The pained, angry cries of the mob slowly grew distant as he made his way through the dense forest, seeming to either realize they couldn't catch up or deciding it was best to leave the beasts of nature to end his life. Exhausted, Malkus found a rather inviting tree to lean against, doing so only when he was certain he'd be alone.
A dead silence. He tried to keep his senses as sharp as they can be... Nothing but the birds and the wind... Safety... At least for now. Trying to keep his wheezing and panting down to a minimum, he finally took the time to adjust everything, tying the back of his mask firmly, pulling his breeches up comfortably, making sure to leave nothing loose or hanging out of his coat. God forbid it got caught in another chase.
He finally looked presentable and because of that he felt a little better. Hardly though. They hated him.... They hated him and all he had wanted to do was help. Why couldn't they see that he was just as scared and confused about this all as they were? Why couldn't they realize that he was still human, dammit, not some miracle worker. He let out a deep trembling sigh, still shaken up by everything. Who could blame them? He had promised to help and it only seemed as if he was trying to get them sick.
They put their faith in him and he only managed to kill them, poisoning the lucky few and causing even worse damage to the others. He could feel another small panic attack build up inside him again. The poor man curled up, clutching the back of his head as he tried to contain his sobs and whimpers, breathing heavily. He tried to calm down, staring up at the sky, at the birds. He wondered if they thought he was family, looking back down at a silly little fool in a bird mask.
He couldn't help but laugh a little, glancing back down at the dirt and grass, then at his bag. It was time to get moving, "where to" wasn't decided yet, but it was time to start moving somewhere, anywhere. It seemed he'd be spending quite a while here, in nature. He paused. He wasn't sure how to feel about this, being alone. He couldn't afford to waste anymore daylight. Glancing around a bit, he started walking, unfamiliar with everything he saw.
Malkus app [5/?]doctoral_birdApril 22 2011, 07:37:53 UTC
8. First person sample: [After spending a few minutes cautiously… though groggily crawling out of his newfound bed, our poor doctor seems a bit stunned. Perhaps a bit overwhelmed by his surroundings… Th-This isn’t his absolutely luxurious bed of dirt and leaves…]
“Wh-…Whaar-…”
[Poor fellow doesn’t seem too concerned with how he sounds at the moment. Obviously he means “Where on earth am I? This most certainly is not my humble little camp. Where’s my pile of rocks? I’ve gone through so much to collect those things!” Shake it off Malkus. Wake up!]
“Hello? …Is anyone…there?”
[Other than a few useless little things, it doesn’t seem like anything on this fellow has been stolen from him. And if his captor wanted him dead, there’s no doubt that he’d be dead now…Right?]
“I appreciate the comfortable bed but I really ought to be on my way now! It was a nice rest, at least! I really ought to be going though. I have… E-Erm… I have work that I really must tend to.”
[Lies. What else would you be doing, Malkus? Skipping stones and picking plants? This is the most interesting thing that’s happened to you in weeks. Well there was that run in with the boar… This is the most interesting, so far non-life-threatening, thing that’s happened in weeks!]
“Can I ask why I’ve been taken here? Not very safe just picking up any strange fellow from the middle of nowhere, now is it?”
[What if they know this? What if they know YOU? What if they know what you’ve done and they finally caught you! OH GOD MALKUS PANIC. No don’t… Well do, but don’t cry…Alright, man, think! What possible reason could someone have for locking you up in a room rather than killing you? …T-Torture? I-Interrogation? Oh god no. Think! Maybe you can talk your way out of this… Window!]
“I-If this is about something I’ve done… Then…Then I’m not that man! You’ve got the wrong man!”
[What]
“I’m … I’m … a very important … merchant! Ivan … Ivan chairtable!”
[Cringe. Amazing, Malkus.]
“M-My name is Ivan Cher…tabul, and I’m very wealthy! I can pay you a very large sum of gold if you were to let me leave!”
[Obviously, our poor doctor hasn’t actually spoken to anyone in quite a while and as a result, he doesn’t exactly have a way with words… Not to say he’s ever, really.]
“I just… Would like to leave now…
…
I did my best to help them…”
[Sulking, our fellow hasn’t really taken the time to look around very well. Guess you ought to get used to your new imprisonment, Malkus… You’ll never see the sky again… No more birds… No more- Oh hey! A key!]
“How interesting! … Hmm… I hope no one minds if I just… See my way out of here..”
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Insomnia robbed him of sleep often; horrifying images of rats eating everything they could find, swarming around anything lifeless or too weak to defend itself, leaving only skeletons in their wake. It's understandable that he developed a phobia of rodents as well as the sick. Seeing what the disease did to a human body caused him to become some sort of neat freak, washing his clothes and body at any opportunity, taking the time to carefully clean each and every tool, vial, and beaker he had in his possession.
You lose track of time in the wild; the days just seemed to blur together after a while. Malkus had spent what felt like months in the woods, though don't be fooled; he is in NO way a rugged woodsman. When he wasn't staying up all night terrified of the noises in the dark, he was building up his little camp which consisted of a bed of leaves, what seemed to be a failed attempt at a number of fires, and a small little cleared out area where it looked like he tried to assemble a tent with twigs are more large leaves. It'd be a lie to say he didn't miss home or the town but there's no way he can show his face back there again. Not with the memories of what he's done. Perhaps someday he'll call somewhere new "Home" but until then this bed of leaves will do. Clinging to his medic bag, like he does every night, he lies down, pulling his mask off and his hat down over his face; still not trusting the "bad air".
It's been months since that tragic incident. Even after all this time it feels as if it was just yesterday that everything happened. It seemed that every bit of information he was given about the sickness proved worthless, he was about as good at helping the sick as an average farmer. Giving up is not an option however, he refuses to stop trying to learn and he will become a respected Plague Doctor, even if at the moment that sounds about as nice as "Respected Mortician" or "Respected Undertaker". There is no room for slip-ups, can't take chances, carefully watching each step and learning from his mistakes will prevent another "screw up" from happening.
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Appearance: A rather tall (6, maybe 6'1") fellow of little less than average width, about as healthy as someone who's lived off of nothing but raw and burnt vegetables could be. Very pale due to the fact that there is close to absolutely no exposed skin on him. On the head rests a wide-brimmed black hat with his face covered in a bird beak-like mask designed to serve as a primitive gas mask. Most of the body is hidden under a thick overcoat reaching down to the ankles. The top fabric covering almost all of the head, being tucked into his mask, leaving only his scraggly mass of hair to be hidden by the hat. A pair of patched up leather gloves covers his hands. Leather breeches, similar to waders worn by fishermen help to prevent any unwanted rocks, pebbles, or fleas from bothering his feet. He carries his medic bag wherever he goes, no matter what. It's a bit larger than a suitcase but not big enough to the point being unable to be carried with one hand.
4. Skills/Abilities: Other than a basic knowledge of sicknesses (Colds, Rashes, Runny noses) and very slight medical experience (Bandages and er…bandages…) he’s just a regular ol’ human.
5. Spoken/Written languages: English/Common
6. Items: Just his doctors bag (Containing: A pet rock, wooden spoon, and rolled up ball of cloth)
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All of these damn roots and bumps! It was as if the very forest was trying to be the cause of his demise, much like he was the cause of this horrid occurrence, or at least a large factor in the problem.
"I-I'm sorry, I did all that I could do!" he cried out again, his voice shaking as he jumped and ducked through the woods, trying to keep his mask from bouncing around his face, loosely tied to his head during this frantic escape. Running as fast as his loose fitting breeches would take him, tripping over the fabric of his coat; everything seemed to have been thrown on in a rush and was blowing around in the wind, his hat hardly clinging to his head.
The pained, angry cries of the mob slowly grew distant as he made his way through the dense forest, seeming to either realize they couldn't catch up or deciding it was best to leave the beasts of nature to end his life. Exhausted, Malkus found a rather inviting tree to lean against, doing so only when he was certain he'd be alone.
A dead silence. He tried to keep his senses as sharp as they can be... Nothing but the birds and the wind... Safety... At least for now. Trying to keep his wheezing and panting down to a minimum, he finally took the time to adjust everything, tying the back of his mask firmly, pulling his breeches up comfortably, making sure to leave nothing loose or hanging out of his coat. God forbid it got caught in another chase.
He finally looked presentable and because of that he felt a little better. Hardly though. They hated him.... They hated him and all he had wanted to do was help. Why couldn't they see that he was just as scared and confused about this all as they were? Why couldn't they realize that he was still human, dammit, not some miracle worker. He let out a deep trembling sigh, still shaken up by everything. Who could blame them? He had promised to help and it only seemed as if he was trying to get them sick.
They put their faith in him and he only managed to kill them, poisoning the lucky few and causing even worse damage to the others. He could feel another small panic attack build up inside him again. The poor man curled up, clutching the back of his head as he tried to contain his sobs and whimpers, breathing heavily. He tried to calm down, staring up at the sky, at the birds. He wondered if they thought he was family, looking back down at a silly little fool in a bird mask.
He couldn't help but laugh a little, glancing back down at the dirt and grass, then at his bag. It was time to get moving, "where to" wasn't decided yet, but it was time to start moving somewhere, anywhere. It seemed he'd be spending quite a while here, in nature. He paused. He wasn't sure how to feel about this, being alone. He couldn't afford to waste anymore daylight. Glancing around a bit, he started walking, unfamiliar with everything he saw.
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“Wh-…Whaar-…”
[Poor fellow doesn’t seem too concerned with how he sounds at the moment. Obviously he means “Where on earth am I? This most certainly is not my humble little camp. Where’s my pile of rocks? I’ve gone through so much to collect those things!” Shake it off Malkus. Wake up!]
“Hello? …Is anyone…there?”
[Other than a few useless little things, it doesn’t seem like anything on this fellow has been stolen from him. And if his captor wanted him dead, there’s no doubt that he’d be dead now…Right?]
“I appreciate the comfortable bed but I really ought to be on my way now! It was a nice rest, at least! I really ought to be going though. I have… E-Erm… I have work that I really must tend to.”
[Lies. What else would you be doing, Malkus? Skipping stones and picking plants? This is the most interesting thing that’s happened to you in weeks.
Well there was that run in with the boar…
This is the most interesting, so far non-life-threatening, thing that’s happened in weeks!]
“Can I ask why I’ve been taken here? Not very safe just picking up any strange fellow from the middle of nowhere, now is it?”
[What if they know this? What if they know YOU? What if they know what you’ve done and they finally caught you! OH GOD MALKUS PANIC. No don’t… Well do, but don’t cry…Alright, man, think! What possible reason could someone have for locking you up in a room rather than killing you? …T-Torture? I-Interrogation? Oh god no. Think! Maybe you can talk your way out of this… Window!]
“I-If this is about something I’ve done… Then…Then I’m not that man! You’ve got the wrong man!”
[What]
“I’m … I’m … a very important … merchant! Ivan … Ivan chairtable!”
[Cringe. Amazing, Malkus.]
“M-My name is Ivan Cher…tabul, and I’m very wealthy! I can pay you a very large sum of gold if you were to let me leave!”
[Obviously, our poor doctor hasn’t actually spoken to anyone in quite a while and as a result, he doesn’t exactly have a way with words… Not to say he’s ever, really.]
“I just… Would like to leave now…
…
I did my best to help them…”
[Sulking, our fellow hasn’t really taken the time to look around very well. Guess you ought to get used to your new imprisonment, Malkus… You’ll never see the sky again… No more birds… No more- Oh hey! A key!]
“How interesting! … Hmm… I hope no one minds if I just… See my way out of here..”
9. Tattoo location: Palm-o-the-left-hand
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