Alasdain Malice

Alasdain Malice, was a being born without a name, sprung forth into this life by a singular thought. What thought brought him from the void and into the waking world is beyond him, but when conciousness became him. His formless being took to life as a fawn to its first steps, confused and lacking. Born with immense knowledge but no concept of its purpose. That without shape, there is no recongition. Encounters originally, not ending in the most productive of means. Those encounters, gave Alasdain something he had not expected to gain. Humans bodies to consume. Despite having no hunger, his ability to consume is without equal. But, to consume such a thing gave him something he had concept of needing. Form. A man's form to fit within the realms of man.

And that, is how it is he became the tall man's shadow, the man in black. Suited, and adorned in a top hat. Becoming a presence of far more menace than that which he was. A form so humanoid took adjusting to, practice, like relearning to walk after having all things figured out. Though, it did not take him long to figure himself out. So much so that even he could replicate himself a passable human head. Minus, the excessive eyes of course. With renewed mobility and ample time, Alasdain became a traveller. Wandering the lands amongst the shades of night. Avoiding other living beings to the utmost best of his abilities. Until it was he found his skill, and thus his purpose. Alasdain Tyrne. The name of the first man to him he first encountered. Instantenous connection, a flicker, a spark, a fire. At the mere sight of the man, gave him sight beyond sight. Something that he did not prior have when he was but an shapeless mass. It told to him the past, present and future of this man. But, more troubling... Was that, the future of this man was immensely short. With a smoothless of voice, a voice that not even Alasdain had known, " Alasdain Tyrne..." The man was stunned at the mere utterance of his name, yet even worse still was the sight of the creature which spoke it. He could not speak a word, before the man had gone and vanished into the night. Screaming, hollering, terrified. The village to which he travelled to, he arrived to the following night. A small village in mourninig... A man of many children, upstanding and kind. Had returned to the vilage from a small venture, screaming of a beast. His fear was infectious, but what followed was even worse. An unexpected death, swift and sudden. This was the instance to which, he learned his purpose. The first name to ever leave his lips, was the name he took for himself. There was no use in a dead man keeping it, after all.

To him, his purpose was that of an abysmal prophet, to speak the words of death upon man with a mere utterance of their names. Perhaps it would bring them solace, or perhaps that would do as the man before them had too... Humans were so hard to understand sometimes..

Wandering from village to village, kingdom to kingdom, city to city. No matter where it was he travelled, the promise of death was to follow surely. In good time, Alasdain found a place to call his own. Outside of quaint village of pleasant folk, though they dare not dwell on that which resides in the abandoned mansion beyond their lands. This home of his, is where he has resided ever since. Passersby and village natives, if they are unlucky, have crossed paths with him. Plenty return with stories to tell, but there are few... Few who may return, but are not long for the living world. A brave few, caught the name of the beast. Alasdain. In passing by, unaware of his true face as they inquired. A first name given, but a surname was sure to follow. Malice, was the villager's gift to him. Alasdain Malice, to himself. But, Mr. Malice to all others. Generous as they are, they gave him a song, too.

Mister Malice, never callous...