Malian

Information

Player: Waffenbaum

Character Full Name: Malian Blightheart (Formerly Captain Cedric Miller)

Character In-Game Name: Malian

Nickname(s): “Mal”

Association(s): The Ebon Blade, The Alliance, The Alliance Expeditionary Forces

Race: Human

Class: Death Knight

Age: 26 (At death)

Sex: Male

Hair: Black

Eyes: Blue

Weight: 185 lbs

Height: 5.7 ft

Appearance

Malian's armor of choice is an imposing suit of black and purple armor obscuring almost all of his decaying body.

Other: Malian carries a two-handed blade, runed in the standard Death Knight fashion. (The blade itself appears to have the symbol of Lordaeron visible on the pommel)

Personality

Like almost all of his Death Knight brethren, Malian appears stern, humorless and without genuine emotion. He does however tend to become rather enthusiastic in the heat of battle.

History

Born in the Kingdom of Lordaeron to a mother who passed away during his birth, Cedric's earliest memories were of the knights returning from battle, and how he admired their regal statures. Though among those Cedric admired the very most was his father, a simple Guardsman who had been left to raise a child on his own. The young boy, brimming with pride over his father would spend hours training with a wooden sword in the streets, often sending other children home crying with bruised fingers or shins. Though reprimanded sternly and frequently, Cedric would continue to act the superior of his peers and as he grew older began to lack any close friends as a result. Instead of lamenting his unpopularity, it only spurned him on to further elevate himself above others.

He would tattle on peers to get them in trouble, finding immense delight in being instrumental to their misfortune. Though he became loathed among the other teenagers as a snitch and unredeemable busybody, he earned respect with the guards and elders for keeping relative order where they could not. At home he would question his father regularly on laws and procedures, sometimes daring to correct him despite the inevitable punishment that would follow after.

Over the years, Cedric had slowly lost his childhood fascination and respect for his father. He saw how he had grown older, how the thick black hair had become thinned under the steel helmet and how his strong back had started to give after many years of service to the grand city. Deep inside, his admiration had turned to jealousy and barely a week after his eighteenth birthday, he went to the captain of the guard explaining that he felt that his father was no longer in a position to uphold his duties as before, although he himself would be honored to take his place. Through some negotiation and backhanded exaggerations of his father's waning health, the captain eventually conceded to writing Cedric a contract in the place of his father.

Though he had anticipated his father's anger upon returning home, he could not have foreseen the fury with which the man met him. Screaming, roaring and yelling of bloody betrayal, he struck Cedric down with a well-aimed fist as soon as he had skimmed the contract presented to him. A flurry of punches and kicks rained down on the young man as the dark-haired patriarch let loose every drop of anger he could muster. Cedric lay bleeding on the floor, laughing despite the blood that seeped into his mouth from a broken nose and swollen brow. When guardsmen arrived Cedric's father was arrested and taken away to the very cells he himself had kept watch over. And through silver-tongued guile, Cedric acted to have his own father convicted of deliberately attempted murder of a guard.

His legacy as a guard was brutally efficient, though lasted barely a full year before Lordaeron came under attack from the dread scourge that washed over the unprepared city, following Prince Arthas's triumphant return and betrayal. As the first cries decreeing King Terenas death began to resound through the city, Cedric was already fighting a lost battle valiantly. As through an undeserved stroke of luck, a blow to the head from a flail knocked him unconscious against the cobbled street. He awoke later bandaged and laying on a carriage, among refugees fleeing the burning city where the orange flames yet licked against the hewn stone walls in the illuminated horizon.

The long and arduous road towards the safety of Stormwind gave Cedric much time to contemplate what the future had in store for him. He had tasted real battle, but the cup of bloodshed had been unfairly snatched from his lips before he could drink deeply and settle the burning thirst it had awakened inside him. He felt as if his chance of glory had been denied him in Lordaeron, giving no thought to the fate of his city, his countrymen or his father, doomed in the cell his own son had confined him to. Well rested after the untimely arrival, Cedric wasted no time in enlisting to the army of Stormwind. Having met no one to claim otherwise, he allowed himself to take on the title of Captain of the Lordaeron Guard as he signed the papers, and was pleased to find that his little lie allowed him the rank of Sergeant without ever needing to be a private. It seemed only just and fair to Cedric, considering all he had sacrificed. Commanding others was a lifelong dream, and he was on the threshold of fulfilling it. He certainly did not owe anyone anything.

In the following years, Cedric proved to be a driven and able soldier; unflinching, unwavering and willing to serve and sacrifice with an almost unnatural disregard for his own health. His disturbing tendencies towards unnecessary risks and endangering his men for the sake of completing objectives became a persistent boon and frequent annoyance for the Alliance leaders, who saw a precarious liability in a man who simply knew no fear on the field, a trait that often lead to high losses despite formidable results. For his commitment to the cause, he was promoted to the rank of Captain. Among one of the youngest officers, he now had actual influence on decisions that could shape the destiny of several thousand men and women, though he longed to return to the field for every moment he sat hunched over a map with his superiors.

In far-away Northrend, Cedric remained as active on the battlefield as time allowed, till shortly before the slaughter at Wrathgate. He had personally lead a small scouting party into Wintergrasp on that day, but had fallen into a scourge ambush despite the advice of an older corporal, thereby dooming not only himself but several soldiers under his command to a premature and violent death to overwhelming odds. As death took him, Cedric felt relieved. As if his entire life had lead up to this culmination of events. He had given death much thought, and although his compulsive mind had wished for a more glorious end, he nonetheless accepted the cold embrace of death without a thought of regret.

He awoke transformed, as if from a nightmare which seemed to last an eternity. He gasped for air but found nothing but a painful prickle of icy splinters within his lungs. He had but a faint recollection of a past life, as if everything had quickly flashed before his eyes and only glimpses remained. It all seemed distant, uninteresting and pointless to recall. After several days of training his new powers in the Ebon Hold, undeath had found him a willing and hospitable host. He now felt a cold flame inside his chest, where once his heart had beaten. He saw the world with new eyes, and knew that there was much more for him to do now than ever before. Free of the shackles of humanity, he chose the name "Malian Blightheart" and pledged himself eternally to the Ebon Blade.