Malich, the Old Hunter

Codename: Malich
Nickname(s): The Old Hunter, the Old Wolf, the Wolf, the Mad Dog*, the Broken Beast*
*note: do NOT say these while he can hear you!
Age: unknown, though he appears to be in his 40’s or 50’s
Race: Cursed Human
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Is this a canon?: No


Hair Color: Black, flecked with grey and white.
Eye Color: Emerald green, almost yellow-green. They become pure yellow when his power is active.
Gender: Male
Height: 8’4”
Weight: approximately 638 lbs
Other Traits: Malich is a giant of a man, towering over most others at 8’4” and weighing over 630 lbs, he is a veritable mountain of muscle. Malich is always wearing an outfit that wouldn't be out of place on a Victorian era huntsman: tan breeches, a green rough hewn tunic, brown leather boots, and a set of furs covering his shins, forearms, and shoulders, along with various leather and metal buckles, pouches, satchels, and sheaths. He always seems to have another pocket with another obscure item related to his craft. A dark brown wide brimmed hat covers a wild mane of shoulder length black hair flecked with grey and white, and a short, equally salt and peppered beard frames his wolfish face, which in turn is lined with both age and old scars. His canine teeth are more pronounced than a normal person's, however they do not stick out past his lips. His black fingernails are longer, sharper, and more durable than normal; able to carve grooves into wood with little effort. He looks to be in his mid to late 40’s, however he has been around for far longer than that. When asked about his age, he avoids the subject, stating that he doesn't remember or otherwise outright changing the subject.




Main Power Origins: Supernatural Curse

Powers
Aspect of the Beast: Long ago, Malich willingly took on a unique curse in order to save his companions and a small town from its former host. Since then, it has been a heavy burden to bear but it has also proved invaluable in his fight against the monsters of the night.

Keen senses: As his bestial appearance suggests, Malich has very keen senses. Despite his age his eyesight, hearing, and sense of smell are nearly unparalleled. He is a seasoned tracker, able to pick up a quarry’s scent from anything they've touched and is able to track them relentlessly. He is also capable of recalling a scent, especially if he commits it to memory when it is fresh. He can use this to find nearly anyone so long as he has enough time, something to gain their scent from, and the person in question has a scent in the first place. Understandably, he has a much harder time tracking a being who is purely mechanical in nature or someone who regularly wears a sealed suit. In the case of the latter however, he can always pick up the trail if they interact with the world around them without the suit. Too many scents or a strong enough scent can make this more difficult in the same way that enough people talking at once or one person shouting loudly enough can make it difficult to hear a conversation. If he is able to focus on a single person he can even get a general sense of their state of health through smell alone, able to sniff out disease, wounds, and many other physical conditions.

Speed of the wild: Malich is far faster than his size implies. He is capable of reaching 50mph and maintaining it for miles. If he hurls himself as fast as he can, he is capable of reaching 70 mph, but he can only do so in short bursts. For every minute sprinting full out, he must catch his breath for at least 30 seconds, with further penalties applied the longer he pushes himself. He is capable of catching his breath at the “leisurely” pace of 40mph or less. Furthermore, his reflexes are augmented well beyond what most humans are capable of. Unenraged, he is capable of reacting three times faster than a normal human and he is capable of moving up to 15 feet at a speed that the normal human eye cannot properly track, appearing as a blur of muscle and fury.

Feral strength: Malich is powerfully built, but his strength exceeds even what his muscles would suggest. He is able to fire Aufteilen single handed and remain accurate, where others without a strength based power would have a hard time controlling the weapon’s fierce recoil with both hands. Unenraged, he is capable of dragging a large fallen tree or tipping an average work truck onto its side. When enraged, he can drive the blade of Aufteilen through stone as if it were butter, and he can use Wolfklaue to tear gouges through steel.

Dark Ferocity: Malich has a darkness inside of him that he has struggled with for as long as he can remember. When he taps into this darkness, his abilities are greatly heightened, but at a cost. When enraged, he is twice as fast and able to rend anything weaker than steel with his teeth and claws, both of which are exaggerated while in this state. He can also use his weapons to tear into steel, though it still takes some effort to tear completely through if it is thicker than an inch or so. Furthermore, while enraged his wounds heal at an alarming rate though he cannot regenerate lost limbs. Any wound that does not kill him outright or sever a limb will be completely healed in as little as seconds or as long as roughly a minute depending on the severity of the wound and how much Malich has already healed that day. Severed limbs can be reattached using his healing factor, but if he's lost a limb he likely won't be in a state of mind to do so until everything around him is dead or has fled. As an added side effect of his power, his emerald eyes become a fierce yellow while enraged.
This increase in power is not without cost, however. While enraged he struggles to tell friend from foe. The longer he is enraged and the further into his darkness he sinks, the harder it is for him to control the bloodlust of the beast within. He can voluntarily enter this state, but enough pain or trauma, emotional or physical, can force him into an enraged state. It is far more difficult for him to calm down and leave this state if he was forced into it than if he entered voluntarily. While enraged, Malich has no sense of self preservation and will hurl himself at his foe with savage ferocity. If he is far enough gone, he cannot always stop himself from killing.

Survival of the fittest: Malich always seems to have a sense for just where to hit his foe where it hurts. He himself does not know if it is some aspect of the beast within or simply the intuition gained from an endless crusade against the darkness. Even when borderline mindless in the throes of his curse, he has a knack for finding weak points and attacking them on instinct. Be it an old battle wound, a poorly welded armor seam, a particular joint or wire or tube, he always seems to find the Achilles heel. This has allowed him to face down much stronger opponents and live or even emerge victorious, but it is not a cure-all for hard fights. Not every enemy has the Legend of Zelda style “shoot this to win” weak point, and oftentimes it is the capitalization of a moment of weakness or surprise that allows Malich to win against a stronger opponent who thought themselves invulnerable to his attacks.


Skills
Outdoorsman: As his appearance and lifestyle would suggest, Malich is an excellent hunter. He excels in any activity normally associated with the great outdoors. Even without the aid of his animalistic abilities, Malich is an experienced and excellent tracker; able to study a seemingly innocuous patch of ground and determine exactly what happened there, when it happened, what direction the participants were heading and what condition they were in.


Wealth of ancient lore: Malich has been hunting supernatural monsters for a very long time. He is one of if not the leading expert on lore regarding supernatural monsters.

Battlefield medic: Malich has seen more combat that just about any other living human, and has faced down horrors capable of inflicting grievous wounds with little effort. Over his long career he has picked up several skills in the healing arts, and is a capable medic when the need arises. His work is by no means pretty and his bedside manner is about as lacking as it is possible to be, but he can keep a person stable and alive from nearly any wound that doesn’t kill them outright. That being said, he cannot perform complex surgery and sometimes his treatments are more painful than the wound itself. But it’s better than dying, right?


Abilities
Marksman: As one would expect, Malich is an impressive shot, even before his keen senses augment his accuracy. However his weapon is not made for long distance sniping. If he is wielding Aufteilen in both hands and has time to aim, he can shoot the pistol from someone's hand at half a mile. While his impressive strength allows him to fire Aufteilen one handed, his accuracy still suffers when doing so. His effective accurate range is halved when firing one handed.

Tracker: As noted above, Malich is an exceptional tracker both with his enhanced senses and through more mundane means.

Physical Weaknesses
Feral Nature: As mentioned above, Malich has a feral darkness inside of him. He is constantly at war with a savage, primal bloodlust; urging him to rip and tear, to feast on the weak and drink deep the hot blood of his prey. He has these desires under control, even to the extent where he can tap into his primal self without slipping, but if he taps too deep, stays too long, or his ferocious nature is forced out, he risks becoming a monster. An apex predator with no humanity, morals, or inhibitions. Only a burning hunger for the thrill of the fresh kill.

Bestial Bloodlust: Malich is capable of controlling his dark curse, however the beast within craves hot blood. Malich is extremely sensitive to the smell and taste of blood. He is far more capable of tracking a bleeding quarry, to the point where he knows where most spilled blood is within a mile if he is downwind, half of that if he is upwind. This becomes less accurate the older the blood is, with fresh blood being like a pinprick of light in his mind and week old blood being more like a hazy smear. This can be used by an enemy who knows this weakness to throw him off of another scent, as blood will overpower all but the strongest of other scents. It can also be used to distract him, especially in an enraged state where he functions more on instinct than reason. Furthermore, enough blood spilled in one place close enough to Malich can cause him to lose control of the beast within.

Take back the night: The beast within Malich has a natural aversion to fire, specifically a natural bare flame, like a torch. Magically created fire does work, but is less effective. In his normal state, flame merely bothers him. A combination of the beast within and his own past make him uneasy around fire. But his rational mind knows it’s just flame and nothing more. He will work with fire when he must, such as using a campfire for warmth, but he will usually try other options first if possible. As a beast, however his aversion to flame is much more pronounced. The further gone his mind is, the more pronounced the effect. If he still has his mind, but has succumbed at least partially to the curse, he will flinch from open flame and will favor strikes that land on the side the flame isn't or otherwise create distance between himself and the fire.  When he is fully lost to the curse, he will shy away from open flame if at all possible. He will not change direction mid leap or immediately become helpless, but he will back off away from a brandished torch and could be distracted mid attack if it's suddenly presented -  turning what would have been a potentially lethal strike into something more easily countered or rendered a glancing blow. He won't be held at bay forever though and will eventually attack anyway. That being said his main advantage while enraged is unrelenting ferocity: hitting hard and fast several times to wear an enemy down until a killing blow can be struck. A torch or other wieldable open flame can negate that, at least temporarily - Giving an opponent a much needed moment of respite to rebuild their defenses, mount a counterattack, summon reinforcements, or escape. The amount of time before he attacks varies, but is signaled by Malich getting more and more aggressive and agitated, probing for a way around the torch before finally snapping and charging.

Mental Weaknesses
Mindless Savagery: If Malich taps too deeply into his feral nature he becomes prone to fits of recklessness, relying purely on his regeneration to keep him alive.

Heart of the wild: Malich is at home on the wild. Conversely, he is deeply uncomfortable in urban environments. The smaller the room, the more uncomfortable he becomes. He is also uncomfortable in large crowds and has a fear of transport methods such as trains, planes, cars, busses, and boats. Furthermore, Malich has an innate distrust of fire, especially fire produced by technology or a power.

Beast Hunter: Malich has devoted his life to hunting the things that go bump in the night. While he is one of the world's leading experts on supernatural lore, he is also extremely distrustful or even outright hostile to anyone he identifies as either working with or being a member of a race he has hunted. Vampires, werewolves, the undead, and anything else stereotypically known to prey on humans are included in this category.

Ashen past: Malich is slow to trust and even slower to open up to someone. Only once has he ever given his heart to another. He is capable of working with others, but he has a hard time remaining on a team for any extended period of time.


Equipment
Aufteilen: Malich is never seen without his trusty weapon. Resembling a massive woodsman's axe, Aufteilen has a long handle that curves slightly at one end and has a single sturdy axe blade at the other. The rest of the weapon resembles a stockless, semi automatic hunting rifle. The barrel runs along the spine of the axe, the breech is about halfway along the handle with the massive magazine jutting out below it in the same direction as the axe blade, and the trigger set into the handle just before it begins to curve, which in turn forms a hand grip for both ways the weapon can be used. The magazine is longer than it is tall, implying that the weapon holds only a few truly massive bullets, and it sticks out from the breech roughly half as far as the blade does from the front of the weapon. Aufteilen is almost four feet long in total and weighs roughly 80 lbs loaded, but manages to look like a regular sized tool in Malich's hands, and he is able to swing it around as if it were weightless. In Malich's hands, Aufteilen is an axe that doubles as something between a carbine and a hand cannon. When not inserted into the magwell each magazine resembles a metal book more than it does a container for ammunition, and each one holds 5 .50 caliber rounds. Without a way to brace the weapon, anyone without a strength based power has no hope of firing the weapon without risk of serious injury. Malich usually carries Aufteilen in a sling on his back when it isn't in use.

Wolfklaue: A silvery clawed gauntlet Malich wears on his left hand and forearm. It seems particularly resistant to damage, especially given the punishment it has gone through, but it is not without its share of scars and scrapes. The palm is chainmail of the same material, allowing Malich to catch blades that would have otherwise pierced his skin, and the clawed fingertips are very sharp. However he is so used to wearing the gauntlet that he is able to easily interact with the world around him without damaging anything by accident. Malich does not know what material the combination of weapon and armor is, but he is aware that it seems to be nearly indestructible and has a disrupting effect on magical creatures and abilities. He is unaware of its other properties, however Wolfklaue is a primative Nth metal item. He is only able to use the properties he is aware of. As such he is unable to fly, cannot alter its weight, and does not know of it's ability to protect him from extreme temperatures or speed up his healing factor. He unknowingly benefits from a very weakened passive version of the latter two.

Miscellaneous monster hunting equipment: Malich’s outfit is festooned with a seemingly endless number of pouches, pockets, and other storage spots which contain various supplies both to hunt monsters and heal companions. He always seems to have that clove of garlic or silver dagger or other obscure item to help against supernatural beings, and he never seems to quite run out of bandages, herbs, or poultices made from exotic plants.



Personality
Malich is, no pun intended, rough around the edges. He is ill tempered, impatient, and gruff. However he is also wise and knowledgeable, and has a lot to give to those able to put up with his personality. Despite his exterior, he has a heart of gold and will put himself in any amount of danger if his companions are threatened.
He is reluctant to admit it, but the reason he is so impatient and harsh with people is because of the sheer number of young heroes he has seen killed throughout his long life. Far too much innocent blood has been spilt, and yet the hordes of evil never dwindle, and neither do those multitudes of young fools who would call themselves “hero.” He has little tolerance for whining or for those who slow him down. If you cannot pull your own weight or contribute in some meaningful way, you are not worth his time.

Likes:
Nature, hunting, solitude, competition, strength

Dislikes:
Being indoors, fire, vegetables, weak people, baths, hospitals



Family Members: None surviving
Place of Origin: Unknown

History

Little is known about Malich's past, and he rarely speaks about it in detail. In fact, so little is known about him that no one is really sure whether Malich is his real name, his hero name, or another nickname. There are, of course, plenty of rumors. What is known for sure is that his past is a bloody one, filled with scenes that haunt him.
The most common rumors, several seemingly confirmed by the reclusive hunter himself, are that he hails from an ancient town deep in the German wilderness. One steeped in superstition and the supernatural. But even the residents there claim that he was not born there. Merely that he used it as a sort of base of operations, and that he had helped them time and time again against the darkness.
Why he has traveled to Jump City is unknown to all save him and his goal, assuming it is something he is hunting. But even while on his own quest, he will not suffer those who would prey upon the defenseless. He cares not for the politics and power struggles of the area. Only that justice is brought to the darkness, no matter what form it may take. Even if it ends in blood.



Run. Flee. Pain. Terror. Everything around him burned. He had no idea how long he'd been running. Too long. The forest around him burned, seemingly without end. All he saw was flame. All he smelled was smoke and burning flesh. All he felt was his own skin burning, his clothes melting to his flesh even as the skin boiled and the gristle beneath began to evaporate. All he could taste was ash. All he heard was the crackling roar of the inferno and the sharp wailing cries. That cry gave him renewed vigor and he charged onward. One of the creatures tried to bar his way, immune to the flames that ravaged his own body. Half mad from pain, his body reacted before his mind had even processed the creature's presence. Without breaking stride, he'd torn its throat out with his teeth and ripped off an arm with his free hand, Wolfklaue glowing red hot in the surrounding flame. Terror. Pain. Flee. RUN.

Malich let out a contented sigh as he finished his meal. "Careful, love. You almost sounded happy there." He let a small smile crack his scarred features at the sound of the voice. He watched Greta walk in from the hallway leading to the bedrooms. "Perhaps I don't mind being happy in my current company." His voice was deep and all gravel, like the rumbling of two bricks rubbing together. But there was a warmth in it that was unmistakable. He started to rise, beginning to lift his empty bowl, but he was stopped by a slender hand that looked downright minuscule on his own. "You stay there, you old Wolf. I'll take care of that." Malich's features twitched slightly at the mock insult, but he replied in good humor as Greta took the bowl. "Old? How you wound me. I'd say I'm just distinguished. Experienced even. And as for 'wolf'-" he was cut off by Greta's chuckle as she placed the bowl in the basin to be washed later. "Oh I know, I know." She put up her hands in mock exasperation as she turned back to face him. "Poor serious hunter hates fun." Malich put on a hurt expression. "I do not hate fun." He replied a little too quickly, as if he'd made that statement to Greta so often it was automatic. "Good." Greta replied as she crossed the room back over to him. She put a hand on his chest and leaned in, a smile on her face. "Because I've got a surprise for you…"

Malich was about to make a suggestion of his own when he froze. His ears caught something that shouldn't have been there - an errant snap of a twig here, a shuffle of leaves that didn't match the wind there. His body tensed as his nose picked up something that Greta's cooking and scent had been masking until now. Smoke. Greta picked up on his body language and whirled around, fluidly moving to a bundle hanging from the wall near the front door. "What is it?" She may have been almost the complete physical opposite of Malich - a small, slender, frail looking thing that one would expect to see in the court of a noble but in truth she was anything but frail. Before they'd settled down to start a life together, she and Malich had fought side by side for years and she was every bit as lethal as he was. Greta knew to trust Malich's instincts almost better than she trusted her own. "Don't know. But I smell smoke." As he rose and strapped on Wolfklaue, a pair of sounds rang out from the forest that even Greta's unaugmented hearing could easily pick up. A great stuttering TWANG that sounded like dozens of bows being loosed at once, followed by the telltale series of sharp thwips of arrow after arrow landing home. Smoke began to waft from the roof and several of the exterior walls. "Incendiary arrows." Malich hadn't needed to say it aloud. Greta had reached the conclusion at the same time. They must have used more than mundane means to light fires though, as the rapidly rising heat and the ominous glow from windows suggested far more fire than what could have spread from even a few dozen of the flaming arrow heads.

Then Malich felt it. A tense, static sensation in the air, and the sudden taste of ash and smell of sulfur. "Incoming!" He shouted as a grey figure, wreathed in ash, appeared behind Greta. Her reflexes were extraordinary, even for a human, and she whirled around to slash its throat before it could strike. The humanoid creature collapsed into a heap on the floor. "The Brotherhood of Ash" Malich spat. "How'd they find us?" A piercing wail erupted from the direction of the bedrooms. The look of panic on Greta's face mirrored Malich's own. "Nevermind that!" She shouted. "Get Lilly! Get out!" Malich's expression changed to one of shock and he opened his mouth to speak, but Greta cut him off as another of the Brotherhood appeared only for her to fire a crossbow bolt through its neck. "Go! I'll hold them off!" Malich knew exactly what that meant. "Greta…" "NO." She cut him off, the anger in her voice silencing his own. When she met his gaze, her eyes were filled with tears and her pleading expression nearly broke him on the spot. "We're almost certainly surrounded. Malich… You're her only hope." He knew she was right. But that only made him more furious. But they'd wasted enough time already.

With a nod he charged into the hallway. He tried to ignore the sounds of combat behind him as more Brotherhood teleported in. The roof was outright burning now, and flames had begun licking down the walls. He didn't bother slowing down for the door, and it shattered when his bulk met it. There. His Lilly. His flower. Gingerly scooping the infant from her crib and cradling her in one massive hand, he clutched her to his chest. A glance at the doorway told him that there was no going back out that way. The flames crackled and roared, filling what he could see of the hall. Wrapping his other arm protectively over his daughter he lept through the window and into the night, using his own body to shield her from the razor shards.

His eyes widened in horror. Before him was a wall of fire. The entire forest as far as he could see was ablaze. He whirled around and peeked around the house. He was rewarded with a trio of arrows and a magical bolt of fire that slammed into his home as he ducked back behind it. That glimpse had been enough, but he refused to accept it. Not yet. He sprinted the handful of paces to the other side of the house and stuck his head around that corner. It was the same. A blade of pure dread pierced his heart far deeper than any physical blade could. It was all burning. There was no way around. The only way out was through. He had no time to contemplate on this as several more arrows flew his way, one landing home and punching deep into the meat of his shoulder. With a feral roar he ran, with that wailing cry haunting his ears. Terror. Pain. Flee. RUN.

As the first light of dawn rose over the smoldering ashes of a once majestic forest a lone figure stumbled out of what was left of the treeline, clutching something to his chest. He was naked save for a few scraps of blackened leather and metal. The charred remains were the same color as great swaths of flesh, some of which hung in tatters. It was almost impossible to tell what had been clothing, what had been part of his body, and what had been a weapon used against him and left stuck in him during his desperate and mad dash. In several places bone was visible, practically gleaming as the flesh around it hissed softly with both heat and regenerative power. Only thing that seemed untouched was a silver clawed gauntlet on his left arm, which itself hung limply from a few scraps of bone and tendon. Stumbling forward with a weight that came from far more than just his wounds, Malich dropped to his knees. His eyes were screwed shut and his teeth were bared in a grimace that threatened to crack them. He still heard it. That wailing cry. But his ears registered only the silence of a morning with no life and no wind. As he forced himself to open his eyes and look at the charred bundle he still clutched to his chest, the Old Hunter wept.

I forgot I still haven't made a new approval stamp. NO MATTER!

By the power of the office of "things which bump in the night" I DECLARE THIS TO BE APPROVED.