Name: Pritus Malkalai
Birthsign: The Apprentice
Physical Description & ClothingEdit
Pritus Malkalai stands at about 5’7, mixing the height of his father with the lack of height of his mother. He has dark brown hair which he likes to keep short and cropped but if allowed to grow, it will begin to curl up and refuse to go down any longer than his shoulders. His hair will continue growing, his curls will just become larger and more ridiculous. He has sharp and stern almond-shaped eyes that are unable to predict. They would be classified as hazel yet they drift from gray to blue to green to brown. He has rather thin eyebrows that match the shade of brown of his hair. He has a short yet curved nose that almost makes him look like a bird of prey, with small yet long nostrils. He has high cheekbones and a thin set of lips. From his cheekbones, his chin comes down to a rounded point. Hair, a bit darker than the shade of his hair, can and will begin to grow on his face unless he shaves. He prefers to shave, however, his facial hair can grow quite quickly and make sideburns, a rather shaggy mustache, and an unruly beard. His small amount of farm-work has been able to put some muscle on his lean shape, and he prefers to keep himself free of body hair. He tends to shave his body hair which seems to grow at a slower pace than his facial hair. He has a long set of arms and rather large yet thin hand with thin fingers. His legs are rather lanky but they are not very long, which keeps him at the size that he is. He has average feet.
The clothing of Pritus is impossible to predict, but he likes to keep along the lines of dark shades of wool and cotton, given the fact that he is from a farm. Surely as he moves about, however, his taste of clothing will change and if he decides to come into wealth then he will surely change to colorful silks. There is one heirloom he does wear, although he doesn’t like it, heavily enchanted with protection to physical damage. It is a simple iron ring held around his neck with a leather cord.
Pritus is not one for fighting. He doesn’t hold anything of worth right now other than a mangled, warped short bow and a couple of poorly fletched arrows. The heads of such arrows are made of a crude bronze.
The Malkalai bloodline is laden heavy with that of powerful mages and cunning witches. He has a large pool of Magicka, but is untrained. He hates all kind of magic, but realizes his potential. Odd things have a way of happening when he is angry. The worst of it, however, are his dreams. He doesn’t understand why he suffers from such dreams but he is sure they are connected to his ancestors. He hates the dreams, yet they are always realistic and always lucid.
Pritus Malkalai was never destined for greatness. He had never really thought about leaving his farm, and so he always thought his hardest task was picking the wheat every harvest season. Totally unprepared for the real world, he has never seen an actual city in his life much less been in one. He has always dreamed of going on an adventure but is truly unprepared for such an endeavor and will probably regret ever going on one. Even though he is a simple man, his self-esteem is based much on what other people think of him. If other people tell him to change something about himself, it makes him think that he is completely wrong in the first place and will probably immediately change it. He doesn’t have much pride in himself but that is only because he has no real skill in anything. If he ever learned anything of worth, he could possibly take pride in it and finally have some pride in himself. Pritus, much like his father, hates all kind of magic and those who relate themselves with magic. He has never been around it, however, other than the occasional outburst from him or his father, but his indoctrination on the evils of magic have turned him against all magic. However, without that sense of pride, he has a tendency to change even the deepest of his beliefs. Although he is slow to anger, once angered, it is tough to get him out of the mood. He will try to make the worst of the situation, and he will try to make everyone else feel bad. If things get really bad, and his anger bubbles up, weird things have a way of happening. Bubbles of magic escape him and a myriad of things can happen. Usually not for the better. These sudden “bubbles” can either scare him into abating his rage or increase it.
Another quality of Pritus is that he always tries to seem wise. He will say things that seem wise to him, and look at others to see if they think they are wise too. If they actually begin to think him wise, then he will become arrogant in his sayings and his pride will be over the top. He, also, has never been really mentally stable. Afraid of what is out there (but also yearning for it at the same time), being around such things can put him over the top. His magical outbursts are no help. Yet he will probably never go to the point of insanity and stay there. He might teeter on the edge for a while, but it is not likely that he will ever fall into madness.
Pritus was born in eastern Cyrodiil somewhere north of Chorrol to his Imperial father and Breton mother. His father was a powerful mage, but had escaped that life after his own father had pushed it on him. He fled to the Colovian Highlands and began a family. When Pritus was born (under the birthsign of the apprentice, which was no accident), his father thought that Pritus would become something great. However, as he grew, Pritus had a modest personality and always thought that he would live in this house forever, the greatest thing he would ever do was create a family of his own. He soon learned of his magical heritage, but the teachings of his father had told him that all magic did, in the end, was harm humanity. Even the school of restoration would only heal those that would go out and do more violence.
Pritus began having odd dreams around the age of six, ones where he know he was dreaming but it was so realistic it was like walking in an alternate universe. However the consequences of his actions in said dreams, they would never flow over into those of reality. His dreams often gave him advice on what to do but at the same time he was afraid of the people that spoke to him in these dreams. He believed that such voices belong to his ancestors. Which they did not.
His father died when he was 16, making him the head of the household. Being an only child, it was only he and his mother. Financial problems soon set in and he had to sell much of his father’s land and could hire no hands. He soon decided that he would have to marry and have children to help him on the little land he had left. However, his lack of pride and faith had never allowed him to get near any women. He would always choke up. Thus he lived alone with his mother, struggling to work the entire farm on his own, until the age of 22. He had a terrible dream nearing his 23rd birthday, one that spoke of evil. The dream told him that if he did not travel to Tanenth, he would die. He knew that his dreams were truthful, and that they had never lied in the past, and so he decided that he would travel to Tanenth. He didn’t know where such a city lay, and so he traveled to Chorrol, hoping to find someone who knew more than he. Gaping at the size of the city, he was lost before he even stepped within the towering walls. He found a merchant, incidentally, that was traveling to Roseguard, a city that he claimed lay so far to the east that the Imperial City did not control it. Highly suspicious of the merchant, he decided he would travel along with the merchant’s caravans. He rode for many months into a land which they called Hammerfell, and into alien cities with alien peoples. He had never seen anybody other than Imperials and Bretons, and so these new peoples scared him to death. The fur-lined Khajiits and the scale covered Argonians were the biggest surprise to them, and he soon developed a fear to all races not of his own. Soon the caravan arrived in Roseguard with the news of war. He had only read of war, but he had never experienced it. He was confused slightly when he realized that there had been no destroyed buildings, he thought war decimated entire cities. He had seen paintings of Kvatch from so long ago…
Tanenth lay just ahead, so the merchant said. Pritus, alone in this land, didn’t want to travel alone. Finding another merchant, this one a large man who called himself a Nord, was going into Tanenth. The Nord held a deadly assortment of steel blades that curved and spiked every which way. Pritus had never seen such instruments of death. Finally arriving in Tanenth, Pritus stands inside the city gates, wondering what he was to do next…
Since coming to Taneth, Pritus had thought of the city as alien, along with the people inside of it. Happening across a barfight between Ector Blackheart and Camille Leon, Pritus found the courage to try and stop the fight. However, the distraction caused Leon to gain the upper hand, dealing what would have been a killing blow into Blackheart. The Pirate Lord did not die, however, sending Pritus running away in a mild state of shock.
Finally stopping in an alley, he was stumbled upon by Cristina, who talked to him and finally decided to let him tag along, bringing them back to the very tavern where the fight happened, once again meeting Camille Leon, scared for his life. Finally realizing how foolish he was, after Camille offered to buy him a drink, he sobered up and tried to "be strong."
The only real friendly face he has met since traveling to Taneth, he was quick to befriend Cristina so as not to be alone. Following her around, he hides behind her back, thinking her a very powerful mercenary.
Not really sure about this lady, he is unaware she is a pirate. Seeing her "kill" the pirate, he thinks her quick to kill, but at the same time is confused by the friendly way she approached him the second time.
Pritus doesn't even know the name of the pirate, just that he's a pirate. He watched the pirate die, only to be somehow still alive. Pritus thinks that he is some sort of daedric-offspring or affected by heavy magic, either of which is not favored.