Mualiin
Appearance
One could walk halfway up a hill and see his head poking out the other side, like a hulking shadow from the horizon. And as they continue, more features would be revealed - and a shadowy juggernaut of a warrior standing before them, an axe as tall as the average Human slung on his back. The armor is a faded black, and lined with scratches and minor dents, evidently having seen much use. It appears as if it were a automaton of black metal - there is no division between the gauntlets to the leggings, to the helm to the breastplate - it all moves in one fluid motion. His facial features concealed by a armored help, behind its visor reveals eyes not normally seen - violet irises in a sclera of vermilion. One would imagine this would be an Orc, an exceptional warrior among its tribes, on a self-quest of challenge and honor.
One would ask such a question, then the visor comes off to reveal nothing. Only the glaring red and purple eyes that gaze back from the darkness. A gaze that is as cold and mechanical as the armor it dons. But beneath this exterior is a curious soul, flesh and spirit bound with metal and fire, built to walk the earth and explore all it can offer.
It introduces itself as Mualiin, a hired arm.
One would ask such a question, then the visor comes off to reveal nothing. Only the glaring red and purple eyes that gaze back from the darkness. A gaze that is as cold and mechanical as the armor it dons. But beneath this exterior is a curious soul, flesh and spirit bound with metal and fire, built to walk the earth and explore all it can offer.
It introduces itself as Mualiin, a hired arm.
Skills and Abilities
One glance at his axe and one can tell his profession - A warrior. Or guard duty. A formidable warrior diligent in his practice and trade.
But his strength with the axe is not to be denied, as even a one-handed swing fells a tree as wide as a human child, and with both, there are few shields capable of withstanding a direct hit. Having also trained with a staff, he incorporates the two-handed nature of his battleaxe to great effect, and rarely has need to use his armor itself as a defense. His physical strength is also remarkable, given his size. He has the dubious self-named feat of using boulders as large as he to build his strength, whilst wearing the armor. The dubious nature comes from the fact he is never seen exercising, but his strength is there, so he is not questioned. Much.
Melded Full-Body Armor
Mualiin's armor is a most curious object - it is of magical make, of that there is no doubt, but its function remains mostly unknown, save the fact it seems welded to its wielder except in certain circumstances, detachable to treat injuries that pierce its defenses - which is a feat, as it shrugs off many weapons from the sword, to the arrow, to the great two-handed weapons. It even blocks many basic offensive spells but is unable to protect its wearer from the aftereffects. He can still feel the heat of a fireball, the chill of a frost blast, or the currents of a electric bolt as it courses through his metal body.
Aside from times he takes off parts to treat injuries, he is never seen fully uncovered from the armament. Precisely why is a reason he keeps to himself, and attempts to remove it by force or magic proves unsuccessful, as the armor appears as one solid entity - there are no gaps, no interlocked components - it all moves as one well oiled machine. Even magic cannot force it off - it is somehow more resistant to being disassembled than being hammered by fireballs.
But his strength with the axe is not to be denied, as even a one-handed swing fells a tree as wide as a human child, and with both, there are few shields capable of withstanding a direct hit. Having also trained with a staff, he incorporates the two-handed nature of his battleaxe to great effect, and rarely has need to use his armor itself as a defense. His physical strength is also remarkable, given his size. He has the dubious self-named feat of using boulders as large as he to build his strength, whilst wearing the armor. The dubious nature comes from the fact he is never seen exercising, but his strength is there, so he is not questioned. Much.
Melded Full-Body Armor
Mualiin's armor is a most curious object - it is of magical make, of that there is no doubt, but its function remains mostly unknown, save the fact it seems welded to its wielder except in certain circumstances, detachable to treat injuries that pierce its defenses - which is a feat, as it shrugs off many weapons from the sword, to the arrow, to the great two-handed weapons. It even blocks many basic offensive spells but is unable to protect its wearer from the aftereffects. He can still feel the heat of a fireball, the chill of a frost blast, or the currents of a electric bolt as it courses through his metal body.
Aside from times he takes off parts to treat injuries, he is never seen fully uncovered from the armament. Precisely why is a reason he keeps to himself, and attempts to remove it by force or magic proves unsuccessful, as the armor appears as one solid entity - there are no gaps, no interlocked components - it all moves as one well oiled machine. Even magic cannot force it off - it is somehow more resistant to being disassembled than being hammered by fireballs.
Mualiin's armor is a byproduct of the Age of Wonders. A feat of monumental proportions and a relic that stands among that era's most prized of possessions. It is called Ebonscale, forged from the scale, flesh, and bone of a mighty dragon, tempered in its fire, cooled by its blood. The whole of the wyrm's being courses through this mythical armor, its power, its fire, pulsing in the dark metal. A combined effort between the smiths of that age and a wyrm of the earth culminated in this mighty armament, capable of transforming into a legendary dragon itself.
One of its fangs, and a single claw, along with the bones of this tail became the armor's means of combat, bound to the armament through a joined life-force.
But it needs a catalyst to fully awaken, the blood of a dragon, mixed with its wielder. The draconic armament unveils a weapon of its own, the Talonaxe, when it has fully activated. A weapon that shifts between an axe, scythe, and a mace, which in itself, doubles as a flail. A homage to the claws, teeth, and tail swipes of a dragon.
One of its fangs, and a single claw, along with the bones of this tail became the armor's means of combat, bound to the armament through a joined life-force.
But it needs a catalyst to fully awaken, the blood of a dragon, mixed with its wielder. The draconic armament unveils a weapon of its own, the Talonaxe, when it has fully activated. A weapon that shifts between an axe, scythe, and a mace, which in itself, doubles as a flail. A homage to the claws, teeth, and tail swipes of a dragon.
Personality
The man himself is a quiet and observant human, introspective and not exactly... rational in his speeches and thought patterns. As an example, if one were to ask a human why a bird flies, he would respond commonly with the response it has wings. Mualiin states it is convincing itself it can fly, and does not care what the world thinks. Very odd.
It comes from a self-introspective view of himself and the world. He was isolated for much of his life, and while his concerns also lay with his own well-being, his other interests can seem careless and even cold to others. He will reach out to save a comrade from accidental harm, but his means of doing so could cause greater harm. He admits he is learning from his fellow kinsmen, and gradually incorporates actions, habits, and speech patterns into his own personality, imprinting so to speak. It is his main reason for wandering as well - to gather and incorporate information from as many places as he can travel to, and strive to build his own person from the traces he imprints on himself.
Even in combat this imprinting shows, but his mind becomes pragmatic, more sharpened. He is fighting after all, and knows the consequences of losing focus in the middle of a fight, where it could end in sudden death. He learns from the behavior of his comrades in such a situation, their cries of war, shouts of challenge, and yells of pain. With the knowledge, he gauges the state of his foes, and moves as necessary to secure victory.
It comes from a self-introspective view of himself and the world. He was isolated for much of his life, and while his concerns also lay with his own well-being, his other interests can seem careless and even cold to others. He will reach out to save a comrade from accidental harm, but his means of doing so could cause greater harm. He admits he is learning from his fellow kinsmen, and gradually incorporates actions, habits, and speech patterns into his own personality, imprinting so to speak. It is his main reason for wandering as well - to gather and incorporate information from as many places as he can travel to, and strive to build his own person from the traces he imprints on himself.
Even in combat this imprinting shows, but his mind becomes pragmatic, more sharpened. He is fighting after all, and knows the consequences of losing focus in the middle of a fight, where it could end in sudden death. He learns from the behavior of his comrades in such a situation, their cries of war, shouts of challenge, and yells of pain. With the knowledge, he gauges the state of his foes, and moves as necessary to secure victory.
Biography & Lore
A simple child born in a forest, Mualiin was from childhood, a curious one. His parents often found him out in the night, gazing at the forest trees and the night skies beyond them. He would often raise a hand towards the stars, not to grab them, when asked by his father, but simply experience the act. He seemed an empty slate, eagerly observing his parents' behavior and imitating them, much to their amusement. He learned from his mother the art of the ax, cutting down trees for wood, and selling them to traders in the nearby villages.
When he came of age, his parents, for the lack of a better word, chased him out. Not from lack of affection, but they realized they themselves could not care for their son, mentally. Physically, he already eclipsed his mother - who could fell trees in a single swing of her ax - mentally, he was still no different from the child who gazed up at the stars. Curious, innocent, and impressionable.
The parents decided to let the world be the boy's guide, to mature him and imprint upon him its many wonders, dangers, and the in-between. They only gave him the ax he needed, and sent him to the smiths in the nearby village. The men there, already familiar with the boy, decided to aid in his journey by crafting a battle axe. Mualiin helped as best he could, gathering wood for the forge. The weapon was at first, uncomfortable for the boy, and when he then set out into the wide world of Arethil, he was lost almost immediately in the woods beyond the village, a mere stone's throw from the gates.
But he persevered, learning to wield the long-handled weapon until he could at least swing it to chop down trees like he once could. But while lost in the woods, he came across an empty set of armor, abandoned beneath a tree. Unfortunately due to his mentality, he decided to don it, and thus, it became the armor he would wear to this day, unable to be cast off. But he found himself only interested in its form and capabilities.
Now, he wanders the vast world of Arethil, taking jobs to tend his natural needs, such as food, rest, and the occasional roof and beer. The many jobs of battle, guarding, and adventuring have imprinted themselves upon him, and he strives for more knowledge about the world around him still, unknowkingly proving his parents right in their decision...
When he came of age, his parents, for the lack of a better word, chased him out. Not from lack of affection, but they realized they themselves could not care for their son, mentally. Physically, he already eclipsed his mother - who could fell trees in a single swing of her ax - mentally, he was still no different from the child who gazed up at the stars. Curious, innocent, and impressionable.
The parents decided to let the world be the boy's guide, to mature him and imprint upon him its many wonders, dangers, and the in-between. They only gave him the ax he needed, and sent him to the smiths in the nearby village. The men there, already familiar with the boy, decided to aid in his journey by crafting a battle axe. Mualiin helped as best he could, gathering wood for the forge. The weapon was at first, uncomfortable for the boy, and when he then set out into the wide world of Arethil, he was lost almost immediately in the woods beyond the village, a mere stone's throw from the gates.
But he persevered, learning to wield the long-handled weapon until he could at least swing it to chop down trees like he once could. But while lost in the woods, he came across an empty set of armor, abandoned beneath a tree. Unfortunately due to his mentality, he decided to don it, and thus, it became the armor he would wear to this day, unable to be cast off. But he found himself only interested in its form and capabilities.
Now, he wanders the vast world of Arethil, taking jobs to tend his natural needs, such as food, rest, and the occasional roof and beer. The many jobs of battle, guarding, and adventuring have imprinted themselves upon him, and he strives for more knowledge about the world around him still, unknowkingly proving his parents right in their decision...
The truth was less than ideal.
He was a twisted experiment of life and metal, to forge a machine of war that could contend against the mythical drakes, with their own power. The blood and soul of a great dragon, fused into living metal. But to enslave such a mighty beast? To fool it into treating its own kind as its bane? It needed to think like one of their prey.
With the aid of magicians did the mindscape and personality of the original dragon change, overwritten. Twisted and colored so vividly it was no longer what it was. Nothing but a spirit, clad in the flesh of its prey as its skin, groomed to unite with the Ebonscale armor and at last achieve the millennia long ambition - to turn the strength of dragons into a weapon of Man.
He was a twisted experiment of life and metal, to forge a machine of war that could contend against the mythical drakes, with their own power. The blood and soul of a great dragon, fused into living metal. But to enslave such a mighty beast? To fool it into treating its own kind as its bane? It needed to think like one of their prey.
With the aid of magicians did the mindscape and personality of the original dragon change, overwritten. Twisted and colored so vividly it was no longer what it was. Nothing but a spirit, clad in the flesh of its prey as its skin, groomed to unite with the Ebonscale armor and at last achieve the millennia long ambition - to turn the strength of dragons into a weapon of Man.