Race - Vampire
Gender - Female
Age - Over 600, but she does not know an exact date.
Personality - Malise, as her name implies, is the embodiment of hate. Were she not bound by a spell preventing her from doing so, she would even turn against other Kindred. She has forgotten more about dispensing pain than anyone can ever know. She is sarcastic, crass, arrogant, and above all else, hateful. Top of the list, though, she hates vampires purely because she cannot kill them. She is a sadist. She will gladly torture her prey...or even torture for sport, just to inflict pain.
Appearance -
Make her outfit black, and that's what she looks like. She's about 5'8" tall, and very slim. But her body is something she uses to get to the good male victims...she's really evil like that.
AYCS, her eyes are completely white, as is her skin. Her hair is jet-black, and her body is adorned with glyphic tattoos, all done by her herself.
Weapon -
Twin long-tooth daggers. Her own design, made by her for her. She wields them as if they're an extension of her arms. Nobody else may touch them. If they do, she will hunt them down until the end of time and kill them. Not even God Himself would stand in her way.
History -
Malise was born Natalisa Sroven, a young and attractive human woman in a poor district. She was happened upon one evening by one Duke Grosner, who had her abducted and taken to the basements of his estate. There she was kept for his more...amorous advances. She was sired there, purely for the purpose of serving his such needs forever. Over the years he kept her imprisoned, her thirst being the only thing stopping her from dying; she could not resist it, and so whenever anything edible was placed nearby, she would feed off of it, despite all her intentions to die.
But those years did kill her inside. Killed her every emotion save one. An emotion which grew more and more powerful, like a blind man's senses do to cover the deficit. And little by little her hate poisoned her mind. But it gave her a purpose. Kept her alive. She knew that one day, Duke Grosner would die by her hand. And her chance came one time when he came down, several years on...he had just crouched down in front of her. She brought her legs up behind his head, and with a fury she never knew she had, she held him there, and with an impossible strength she broke her hands free of the chains that bound her, and she proceeded to tear him apart like a feral animal.
She washed away the blood, the tears, the sweat...she washed away the pain in one swift moment. But the hate was still there. Indellible. It would never go away. You think you've forgotten that which is too horrible to entertain...yet the imprint is always there.
Over the years she wandered Memoria. Taking cover wherever she felt like by day, and walking by night. She killed over a hundred vampires between then and now, before she met her brother, who, by virtue of coincidence, had also been sired, and had tried to look for her. Still slave to her hatred of vampires, she tried to kill him, too, but he was able to place a spell, restricting her from ever laying a finger on a vampire, even in defence.
She's spent the last age looking for him, or for a hunter who'll be worthy of her combative skill. She hopes to find meaning in death.
