Full Name |
Malcolm |
Race |
Elan |
Classes/Levels |
1/Psychic Warrior |
Gender |
Male |
Size |
Medium |
Age |
Unknown |
Alignment |
Neutral Good |
Deity |
Unknown |
Location |
The land which shall be Cheliax |
Languages |
Common |
Strength |
13 |
Dexterity |
16 |
Constitution |
16 |
Intelligence |
18 |
Wisdom |
14 |
Charisma |
16 |
About Malcolm
Malcom
I am as I have always been. I remember not being young nor having grown. I can't recall family or friends. The great house says that I choose this and my reasons were my own. I have a small globe that radiates magic and I was once told my thoughts were with in it. But I could not tell if the fortune teller knew her craft or was just feeding me a line. I left the great house in the middle of winter. Something deep inside said not to trust them. They seem to have just let me go. I fear that each time I sense something in the dark it is the great house following me. I look at this silver ball with the strange gas flowing within and think to myself, the time is not yet right. I shall do now I do not know. Weapons come easy to me, I wonder if in the past I was once a warrior. I shall make my way with my blade and find out why this happened to me. If I am hiding from something, if I am being hunted, I don't know which is safer though. To know, or not to.