[b]Given Name[/b]: Maldron the Assassin


[img]http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/149/d/c/rogue_by_sheppard56-d6730d7.jpg[/img]
A typical ginger, Maldron is simply average. A guy you would pass on the street and pay him no attention. On a closer look, people always remember his amber eyes and freckles.

[b]Equipment[/b]:
[list]
[*][b]Mark of The Red Queen[/b] - Not equipment in literal sense, this distinctive brand on his hand resembles a beating human heart. There is something special about this brand, but Maldron can't remember what.
[*][b]Black Leather Armor[/b]: A full set of studded black leather. Comfortable, sturdy and absolutely maddening during hot weather or after lot's of physical activity.
[*][b]Grey linen robe[/b]: A simple, unassuming hooded robe with a single button in front. It hides Maldron's collection of venom and throwing daggers. It also doubles as a blanket, and is very useful at remaining unassuming.
[*][b]Small cloth pouch[/b]: A small pouch where Maldron keeps small amounts of food. The bag reeks of metal, indicating it was once used to carry something else.
[*][b]Dagger[/b]: A simple, yet reliable dagger hidden in his right sleeve.
[*][b]Throwing Knives[/b]: Various buckles and straps on the front of his leather armor hold around 12 daggers meant for throwing, as well as several glass vials with unknown substances. His small arsenal is usually hidden from view by the robe.
[/list]

[b]Memories[/b]:
[list]
[*][i]A group of people in black leather have him cornered. Maldron is still a kid, one of their money pouches in his hand. The men are grinning, and one of them is reaching his hand out to Maldron.[/i]
[*][i]Maldron is sparring with kids similar to him, as men in black watch from the distance. Bruised, beaten and tired, they know they are not allowed to stop until they can no longer stand. He feels deep fear and respect for those people.[/i]
[*][i]Maldron is a black room, kneeling, his hand held forward. Corpses and fresh blood surround him, blood dripping from his blade. The men in black approach him grinning, carrying a brand. Searing pain courses through his hand, as he hears their words: [b]"From now on, you are Maldron, a weapon of unparalleled lethality".[/b][/i]
[*][i]Maldron, now in his black armor, is in front of a fountain. A fountain of blood. In the middle of this fountain is a throne, in it sits a pale woman, with a hole where her heart is supposed to be. The blood, defying all logic, is slowly moving towards where the woman's heart should be. The woman, an beauty beyond compare, with long, black hair. Maldron feels immense respect for her.[/i]
[*][i]Maldron is in front of a throne. A man with long grey hair sits on it, with a grand, golden grown, expensive and colorful clothes. His throat is cut wide open, and he gurgles as blood gushes out. Around him are bodies of the King's guard. The throne room's floor is full of warm, red blood. Maldron feels absolutely nothing.[/i]
[*][i]Maldron is running through a crowd. Behind him could be heard the clanging of metal and various shouts, like [b]"Stop the assassin![/b]. He still feels nothing. No fear, no excitement. He knows the path to safety, it is not the first time he took the guards for a chase.[/i]
[/list]

[b]Awakening[/b]:
Maldron finds himself in a grey wasteland, with massive, grey, stone-like trees towering above him. He could not remember how he got here, or who he actually was. Yet he felt nothing. As he stood up, he probed his mind for memories, but they were hard to find. What was left indicated him being an assassin named Maldron. Was he drugged? Was this another of their tests? Does it even matter? From the very few memories that were left, Maldron knew that he flirted with death way too many times to worry about it now. Just another mission, he reassured himself. That's all there was to it. Maldron is a weapon, and a weapon should not concern itself with the concept of self, nor ask the question "why". Whatever happened, whatever was ahead, it is not for him to wonder. His only reason to live is to end other lives, and this lifeless landscape must contain his next target.