Malik Al-Sayf

[Malik Al-Sayf]

MALIK AL-SAYF

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&&--You, who shall pull the strings

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Name: Leslie
Age: 20
Roleplaying Experience: 6 years
How you found the site: Crazy Dave

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&&--The character cheat sheet

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Name: Malik Al-Sayf
Gender: Male
Age: Twenty-eight
Hair Color: Dark, dark brown--pretty much black.
Eye Color: Rusty Brown
Skin Tone: Dark--he's Israeli.
Height: 5' 10"
Weight: 157 lbs.
Wealth: Average
Sexual Orientation: Quite secretly gay...though he claims to be asexual--that all he cares about is his work.
Why they are in La Campana: Malik came to Spain one year ago to take over as dai of Barcelona's Assassin's guild--it was only supposed to be for a few months, until a replacement could be found, but he's come to realize that he can't leave just yet. There is something sinister occuring in Spain, and Malik needs to figre out why that is.

Why he is at La Campana specifically is because he is the super intendent for the secondary school districts in Barcelona (as a cover), and happens to have his main office in the administration building of La Campana.
...and his bureau directly under the office, underground.[/size]

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&&--What makes the clock tick

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Likes:

Dislikes:

Turn Ons:

Turn Offs:

Nervous Habits:

Fears:

Goals/Aspirations:

Appearance: As so many explanations go, that of Malik's appearance ought to have an order. So to describe the appearance of such an individual, let us start from the top and work our way down from there.

His thick hair is a dark brown, almost black color. Though I say thick, most would never know this--he constantly keeps his hair short enough to manage. The sparce times he has let it grow long, it has been practically unmanageable. As obscure and curious as the man who sports it, his hair is a mixture of razor-like edges and soft curls. To anyone who has seen him with longer hair, they would tell you it suits him very well; some would even say it looks better. Malik, however, has neither the patience, time or vanity to tend to his hair. He would rather wakeup, ran a hand through it, and be out the door.

As dark as his hair, and equally expessive of the man whom's face they occupy, Malik's eyebrows, thick and dark, usually show a serious, 'don't fuck with me' nature. They frame around the eyes of an experienced man--eyes that hide more than tell. As are so many aspects of his life, the expression and feelings that Malik shows with his eyes are carefully guarded. It is not that the rusty-brown pupils are empty--no. In fact, it's quite easy to tell from a mere look that there is much more to Malik than his appearance gives off. No man's eyes ought to be so cold and unfeeling--so distant and focused as his.

His nose is of a common, middle-eastern sort. The bridge is long and flat, before curving downward at the bottom--often referred to as an 'eagle nose' or 'eagle beak'. Following the line of the nose, his lips are also a noteable feature. A thin upper-lip sits over a thick bottom lip--were he to ever do so, his smile would be incredibly beautiful.

Malik' facial features, to put simply, are all strong and defined. There is no part of him that comes off as meager, or cute. Everything about his face, including his expressions, are harsh. His jawline is firm and squared, his chin and ears lightly rounded. Unless you catch him directly after shaving, Malik will always have some stubble along his jaw-lines, cheeks, over his upper-lip, and his chin. He also wears a short goatee on his chin--hough this often simply blends into a slight beard when he is to preoccupied to shave (which is often).

Moving past his strong neck, we come to his broad shoulders that support the rest of his toned frame. It is from here, however, as we move past the well-defined muscles and collar-bones that make a wonderful sight that Malik's least favorite physical quality about himself becomes apparent. If you were to see him from the right side and observe only his profile, you would find not a single thing out of place on his body. His appendages are in perfect allignment with the rest of his body. Yet turn him the other way, and you would have a different story. Due to the arrogance and hastiness of a man he was following, Malik was horribly injured on a mission--his left arm cut into and mutilated beyond repair. Starting from just below the shoulder, his arm had to be cut off. Luckily the amputation was done well--there is very little scar tissue upon the stump, and the cut is clean. Still, however, it remains the one reminder to him of that time...and of his current handicap.

His body has been exposed to the sun since he was born. Israeli by blood, this is more than apparent in both his facial structure and skin-tone. His inherited, dark skin, was only strengthened by time in the harsh gaze of the sun. Nowadays, however, the color is a bit lighter--Spain is a bit less harsh to start, and has had little need to explore outside since he lost his arm.

His sturdy chest tapers down to flat, visible abs. He is not skinny--but he is not fat. He is merely broad; strong. As his abs stand out, as do his hip bones--they stand out upon his golden skin, traveling in noticable 'v' shaped lines toward his groin area. His body is upheld by powerful legs--legs capable of going fast and far. Before the incident, Malik was frequently used as a courier to deliver notes--celebrated for his speed and agility.

Fashion is not exactly something Malik could be considered friends with. In fact, they could hardly be considered acquaintances. He will not be able to tell you this season's hottest fashions, where to shop, or what would look good on him. He wears very simple clothing from Jerusalem--he knows it makes him stand out in Spain, but it is what he has always worn--what he feels best in. This usually accounts for loose gray pants, heavy boots, a long-sleeved, white tunic, wide belt to cover his vital organs, and a long, navy blue jacket. Occasionally, however (mostly when he needs to blend), Malik will confront a local clothing store employee and ask for clothing that would look good on him. This has accounted for his wardrobe to further include, 3/4 sleeve plaid shirts in a variety of colors, tight-fitting jeans, black boots, and v-neck shirts. Which, though he doesn't think so (traditional clothing is the only he likes), do in fact fit him qute well.

With every shirt/jacket he wears, however, he will always sew the bottom of the sleeve on the left side the shoulder--he hates having the sleeves flap in the wind, and hates even more how it reminds him of the fact.
Personality:
Malik makes no attempts at putting on a facade when it comes to his personality. There are no veils and no acts--what you see is what you get, to put it one way. Where others would stifle or censor their true thoughts and intentions to save face, Malik has learned to transcend such social stigmas. This isn't to say that he is brash or rude; he gives respect where it is due. Simply put, he'll treat you how he thinks you deserve to be treated.

With that said, Malik generally tends to address most people with a good dose of sarcastic insult and wit. He's a sharp, quick-thinker as well--this added to his borderline mean way of communicating with others leads to a man who one ought not to associate with unless they have thick skin. It is merely in his upbringing to be harsh and pragmatic. Optomism was something he learned to do away with long ago--prepare for the worst, never expect anything or anyone to be as you assume, and you will never be caugt surprised. Perhaps he has turned caustic, then. He is certainly not as bad as he once was, but he still remains as pragmatic as ever. He has slowly learned to loosen his views and see that there can be good in people, but it is still an ongoing process.

Malik is a very pragmatic man. He sees the world as it is, with a philisopchical and experienced mind. He does not sugar-coat anything...in fact, using the word 'sugar' to explain anything about Malik would be completely ludicrous. There is not a sweet, soft thing about him--not that he would ever externally show, of course. Which brings up an interesting point: as callous and cruel as he may seem to the vast majority, there are a select few to whom Malik feels a degree of camaraderie with. They are brothers to him, people he has seen the good in, and found reason to trust. To these select few, he gives his only kindness...and the blunt of his harsh nature.

Though Maik may come off as your typical antagonist and anti-hero, he's quite the opposite. He is harsh for a reason--he has learned what it takes to get a job done, how to best communicate with others, and how much of the world works. There is no archetypical 'good' and 'evil'. There are no good guys and bad guys, despite what cartoons might tell someone as a child. Everyone does what they think is good--it is only the means by which they strive to accomplish this that they are deemed as good or evil in the eyes of an individual. Is he good, then? He is certainly dedicated to finding peace within himself and within the world around him. And despite a knowledge that neither ca ever become completely true, he continues to strive for them with the belief that it is in the attempt to acheive them that a person becomes closet to achieving them. But then, it is just as easy to say that he is bad. He is an assassin--he and his brothers' methods of attaining peace for the world revolve around murdering others. Yet if one must fall so that many may thrive, it seems a small price to pay. Corruption must fall--this is the assassin's way.

It all comes down to a saying the assassins have: "Nothing is real, everything is permited". Malik follows this closely. The first part of the saying regards reality, and speaks of its subjectivity. Nothing is ever truly real--there are no absolute truths, and everything must be taken in an individual's perspective. That is, that the world is only how we define it ourselves--there is never a mere one idea on any issue. The second part, of course, regards the assassin's way of life. While it does give free reign to simply do whatever an assassin wishes, it is to say that they operate beside any laws set by men. That to protect peace and ensure that people are given fair treatment, they do not need to follow any rules. It does, however, alos instill a certain degree of discipline on the assassin. It is to say that, although they have this power, they must not misuse it.

The type of man who could be considered married to his work, Malik takes his life's work very seriously--everything about his life, in fact, revolves around the assassins. He is devoted and loyal to them... though now he tends to be more thoughtful and cautious of whom he trusts and devotes himself to--even within the brotherhood. Where he had once been completely rule bound and blindly loyal to Al Mualim, living his life by the ordained text, he has realized the error of his way sense, and bases his devotions on loyalty on scrutinous decisions now. He sees between the lines and through the word--sees things as they are, not as they are told to him. The clarity came in only one day--reading a journal, and listening to the words of one he trusted. As he explained, the truth broke his heart but opened his eyes. He is no longer so rule bound...so blinded by the words of those above him. He can, and does, think for himself, and base his choices on a mixture of the guidelines of the brotherhood and his own discretion.

And despite being a very clear-headed, wise person, Malik is only human. He has flaws--flaws that he is well aware of having. He's prone to jealousy, envy, and anger. Once these had been strong problems--those that other people recognized in him, but he refused to realize in himself. Since his moment of clarity, Malik has thus learned to control these feelings, and to on occasion speak of them. Though he still tends to hold grudges against people, he's also learned how to forgive as well.

As stated, Malik is a very logical and sagacious mind. He can think tactically and with an experienced mind. If he weren't so cold and unapproachable, Malik wod be a great person to go to for advice. He tends to be a very understanding person--one who can listen intently and see all sides of a story. Yet these 'ifs' matter for little--being as uncompromsing as he is, Malik is not a someone people generally feel comfortable approaching. He has seen much in his 28 years of life, and it has hardened him. This again ties into his pragmatism.

Yet Malik isn't all barbs and nails. Stick around long enough, and you'll see his sparks of compassion. He has a strong sense of moral ideology, and will quickly drop his harsh side if he sees someone that needs help. He will never coddle someone, but he does care about people--otherwise he wouldn't be so determined to be an assassin and help them. The way his compassion for others works, however, is usually to push them away--both emotionally and physically. It's for their benefit as much as his-- there comes a danger in allowing closeness. It is a vulnerability that he cannot afford. He doesn't allow himsef to love or express kindness beyond what he deems necessary towards he brotherhood. His life is simply easier in such a way, and not tied down by muddling emotions. This does not mean, though, that he hasn't thought about it. Love remains a confusing mystery to him. [/font]

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&&--A glimpse of the past

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Father: N/A, forgotten now
Mother: N/A, forgotten now
Sibling/s: Kadar Al-Sayf, deceased
Other important relatives: None
Pets:None, unless you can't carrier pigeons
History:
Like so many of his profession, the day Malik was born his fate was decided. He was to be an assassin; join the brotherhood at Maysaf. His father, an assassin as well, forced Malik into the brotherhood almost the moment he was forced out of the uterus. And so, like so many of the novices he trained with, Malik never saw his mother and father as parents. They were never his gaurdians, but his wardens. Their rules were never those he followed, but the brotherhood's. This, in fact, was not only common, but what was expected of the children. Their family was not one of blood, but of their 'brothers'. When Malik was six, as was protocol, he completely moved away from his parents and into the brotherhood. Three years later, his brother (by blood), Kadar, followed suit.

Kadar and Malik, brothers both in blood and title, were especially close. Malik took the role of big brother very seriously--he made sure to train and study his hardest so Kadar would have someone to look up to. While his parents meant nothing to him, Kadar was his true family. He made certain Kadar behaved, shared tips and personally trained him.

He took the learnings of the brotherhood to heart. It was not mere brain-washing; neither, however, was it truth. The system was flawed--riddled with hypocricy. Though it was these flaws that taught Malik one of the most important lessons of the creed--nothing is true. Nothing can ever be certain, and nothing can obtain perfection. Reality and truth is but an individual perception--right and wrong, violnence and peace...all are standards that vary between the individual and their upbringing. Yet he could also see, despite its flaws, that the brotherhood was a good organization, focused on peace within the individual and the world.

However, life's complications did not end with the scriptures he read, or the training he had. Malik was a young boy who deigned to acheive--he wanted to be helpful, and do everything he could for the organization that had become his family. Yet Malik's time in the spot-light was short lived, when a boy, a few years his younger, joined the brotherhood, taking the institution by storm. Altair was his name--one of the most promising assassins to enter the brotherhood. Altair was bright, strong, and ingenius in his skills to adapt. During any training matches...or the many childish scuffles that occured, Altair always came out on top. Much to Malik's dismay, this included situations with him. The older assassins would laugh at their antics, calling out that "it's always the tough ones who win!" when Altair would pick on him--they could not see Malik's shame. They could not see the degradation of being out-performed by a young boy who held the creed in such low regard. Altair was a confident, arrogant boy--one who clearly knew his own talents, and didn't pay much heed to what anyone else said.

He infuriated Malik. Malik, who knew that he should not hate, that it compromised the inner-peace all assassins needed, could hardly stand the boy. He was as respected as he was feared, Altair. Everyone adored him--to Malik's own chagrin, that included Kadar. A part of his mind knew that it was envy. Though many of the negative aspects he internally (and, on occasion, externally) accused Altair of were very true, the majority of his disdain for Altair came from the simple fact that he was jealous. Altair was quick to learn, quick to impress, and quick to kill. Malik knew him to be brash, that he thought he was above the rules. They formed an odd sort of alliance--though that was almost exclusively of Al Mualim's doing. Malik was an astute assassin--what he lacked in physical finesse and combat, he more than made up for in logic and strategizing. He made a vuluable asset to any team--and as Altair had, upon reaching their teenaged years, become a master assassin as well as Al Mualim's favorite, he was expected to be surrounded by assassin's who could aide him.

It was through their frequent alliances that Malik began to get to know Altair--and while one certainly couldn't call it friendship, it was a relationship of sorts. It frequently saw Malik trying to make sense of plans, and Altair completely brushing them off and doing what he thought best. Malik frequently reprimanded Altair, but it went unconsidered--Altair was his higher up, and thus held power over him. Still, however, Malik took great responsibility in his work. He followed the creed by the book, extremely rule-oriented and proud to be what the text-books would call a perfect assassin.

Life continued this way. Life in Israel was never an easy one, but the assassins took solace in knowing that they were helping others. For the greater good, in a sense--if one person had to die so that many others would no longer need to suffer, it was a small price to pay.

Spoilers for Assassin's Creed begin here

Everyhing changed when he was 26. It seemed a standard enough mission--Al Mualim wanted a sacred relic stolen from an old temple. It was to be Kadar's first mission with Altair; something Malik was none too happy about this; he knew that, no matter their blood ties, Kadar only had eyes for Altair--in a platonic sense. He practically worshipped Altair; to him, Altair was the very epitome of the perfect assassin. Someone to be respected, emulated, an revered. Malik made certain Kadar knew that he had to take the mission seriously--that he was lucky to be doing such a high-ranked mission. Kadar, however, assumed that Malik meant that he was lucky to be on a mission with Altair.

When they made it to the vault, they found Robert De Sale--a high-ranking templar. Altair was brash once again, and despite Malik's effort to talk him into sense, Altair was confident in his ability. Altair confronted Robert and failed to assassinate him. Overpowered, he was tossed from the room an told to deliver a message to their master. Malik and Kadar were left to fend from themselves--in the open and vastly outnumbered. For once Malik didn't instantly think of his own survival. As the templars began to attack, Malik did what he could to protect Kadar. Amongst the shouts of the templars and the clash of steel, the world quickly became disorienting. But they were only two, one still a novice, and the templars were strategic. They seperated the two--and when Malik finally realized what they had done and tried to run back to Kadar, it was too late. He could only stare wide-eyed as he watched his brother, the person he felt any responsibility and love for, be run through the stomach by the templar in front of him. Kadar's sword fell to the ground as two more behind him impaled him.

Malik could only stare in a stupor of disbelief. All assassin's knew that anything could happen on the field--Malik had never understood the true meaning. Yet his mind snapped into attentiveness when Kadar hit the floor; he was next. Like a cornered dog, Malik fought back with a paniced fervor. Despite his prowess, Malik could not hope to fend off so many templars by himself--not without injury. Deflecting a blow from his right, Malik did not see as another templar slashed at his left. The pain was instant--a searing on his left arm. In the next moment, the pain was replaced by a swift, numbing heat.

He knew he could not win. Rather than fight to the death, Malik did what he had been sent to do. He burst from the circle, snatched the treasure, and ran out the way the group had originally come.

He ran.

Malik ran as fast and as far as he could. His legs wearied and the loss of blood had his head swimming, but he never once stopped. He kept running even when the angered shouts and footsteps receeded from hearing range. He ran until he reached Masayaf. Then, and only then, did he stop. He was escorted to Al Mualim, shocked even in himself that he was still walking. When they reached the master, Malik found Altair already there and speaking to him. The very words he came in on were Altair explaining that he and Kadar had died. Infuriated not only by the lie, but by the cold, apathetic tone Altair took with such a statement, he roared that he was alive, and had finished what Altair had failed to do. Altair was sent to fight the templars, Malik to have his wounds treated. It wasn't until the morning, groggy and dazed, that Malik realized the full extent of his injuries. With a sorrow softened only by the greater sorrow of his brothers' death, Malik came to learn that the majority of his left arm had been amputated.

Al Mualim came to visit him after the operation, asking for the story of what had happened. Malik told him, and asked what was to become of Altair. Hatred and loathing burned through his veins. He wanted vengeance for what Altair had done. He wanted repentance for Kadar's death--he wanted Altair to die. Altair's death for his brother, it was only fair. They discussed more--commending him for his efforts, Al Mualim suggested that a promotion of sorts was in order. Based on his experience, knowledge of the area as well as steadfast trust, Malik was to become the new dai of Jerusalem just as soon as he was well enough to travel. It should have been an honor, but Malik also knew that it was recompensation. He could no longer be an assassin--his handicap would prevent it. It was the best Al Mualim could give him now.

And so, he took over the bureau. Jerusalem was a city he was accustomed to--one he knew the problems of well, as well as the layout of. It was not exciting, but Malik was certain it was the right thing to do. With such a constitution, he stuck by the work...a slightly less approachable person than before (and that, undoubtedly, was saying quite a lot).

Not a few weeks passed, however, before Al Mualim sent word that an assassin was coming to him for a job. This was hardly a rare occurnece--Malik probably saw about a dozen assassins a day. No, it was the assassin who was to come for the job. Altair. When the assassin arrived, Malik treated him with all of the scorn and barbed wit he had at his disposal. He was not blunt, however--despite his feelings, there was still a job to be done. He could now, however, comment on Altair's arrogance and fool-headed ways without reservation; he could tell the once-master-assassin that he was nothing more than a novice--an idiot who thought he knew and controlled everything.

When the hit was over, Malik's opinion was hardly swayed. Altair had been brash and unsubtle, had been too sure of himself and made a muck of things in Jerusalem. Altair lefft with more of Malik's insults to return to Masayaf.

The next time Altair came, Malik greeted him with the same degree of sarcasm. Yet this time, however, Malik could sense something. It was not an instantaneous realization, and when Altair came back from his mission, Malik still treated him a bit as a foolish child. Though there was a change--he was softer in both tone and insult. Altair asked him questions about the mission he had done--insightful, deep questions about the manner of their work and actions. Malik blew the thoughts off, simply telling Altair that he had performed as an assassin should, but couldn't help but feel a resonant truth within them. He had lived his entire life following the writings of the brotherhood...yet many things Altair said made him think.

He had an epiphany as he watched Altair climbing out of his bureau. Altair was different. The self-confident, prideful gleam in his eye had been replaced by one of confusion and doubt. He was finally thinking--questioning himself as well as the world he thought he knew and controlled so well. It struck something in Malik, as he stood there staring up at the sky through the thatched wood. Altair was changing--and he couldn't figure out how it made him feel. He wanted to be angry...he wanted someone to blame. He wanted someone to take the fall for his discontent--Malik realized, then, that he was just as guilty as Altair for having flaws. And although he had felt some degree of superiority for not sharing the same flaws as Altair, he had his own that he had refused to recognize in himself--some even worse that Altair's. It gave him a lot to think about and mull over as he awaited Altair's next arrival.

When Altair came back for the last in his missions for Al Mualim, he startled Malik. Malik knew the man was changing through his experiences, but when Altair offered him an apology...well, it took a good deal of will power to not simply gape. He refused Altair's apology, under the basis that the man who stood before him was not the same man who he had entered the temple with. He had realized in the time since the last mission, he explained, that he was as much to blame. If he had not been so envious of Altair's status, they might have succeeded. As they shared their victories, so too did they have to share their defeats. It was a liberating feeling for Malik, being able to forgive Altair's actions in such a way. When Altair left to complete his mission, it was a friend that Malik watched leave.

When Altair came back later that evening, there was news to be shared. News that struck Malik at his core. Al Mualim had betrayed them, Altair said. He was a templar, and everything the man had told them was a hypocrisy. Malik was immediately fearful. He had lived his life under Al Mualim's guidance--had always operated under the lessons he had taught. He refused to believe and help Altair at first, but took Altair's advice and did research. He returned to the templeand found Robert De Sable's journal. Written in it was the facts behind Al Mualim's lies and betrayl. It was a lesson Malik had to quickly learn--nothing is true. It was something he had long said and known, but that he had never truly understood. He quickly gathered some of the assassins that he could and rushed to Masayaf. He helped fend off the brain-washed assassins as Altair fought Al Mualim.

The battle ended in Altair's success, with Altair taking Al Mualim's previous position. It was a quick process, but one that needed to be done with haste. The brotherhood needed a desperate change. Malik became somewhat of Altair's right-hand man during this time.

A year passed, and the assassin's guild in Spain requested help from Altair. Malik voulonteered himself to go--in the past year, Malik has been working on reforms to the system, as well as organizing the disjointed assassins. He also works (works being used, here, in the most liberal sense) as the super intendent for the secondary schools in Barcelona. This is mostly as a cover and to provide himself with office spaces, however.


Roleplaying Sample: Exempt