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| Gender | Male |
|---|---|
| Aliases | Chai |
| Place of Birth | The Ocean |
| Current Location | Igen Weyr |
| Occupation | Baby Shark |
Slender, but packing lean and wiry muscle, Molochai's form is a tool as much as a pen is unto a Harper, or a knife for a hunter. It is a body built for expression, from the casual crook of long fingers to the dry amusement always coming to a slow boil in the recesses of hazel green eyes. A cleverly bowed mouth hints that he'll be able to rationalize his way through most situations, while a knotted, possibly-broken nose insists that he's more than capable of dealing with trouble in the event that crooked smiles and wry wit just won't do. Foreshadowing towards true seriousness comes with the squared lines of his jaw and the subtle holier-than-thou slant of his eyebrows. Hair of a matching dark brown falls to his shoulder in a mass of dark waves, rarely contained, and poorly bound with a mind of its own when he tries.
His clothing fares little better, dark, haggard layers piled one atop the next in the manner of one ever on the move, carrying all they need upon their back. A worn leather satchel seems everpresent, slung across his shoulder, alternatingly empty or bulging-full depending on the day. Rugged wherhide pants are usually tucked into a pair of knee-high boots held together with string and cloth, wound about them so many times it's a wonder he can remove them at all.
Many have asked me who I am, or where I come from, or what it is that I do. The simple and most complicated answers are the same: everything; everywhere; everyone. Yes, in that order. Some might tell you that I'm the boogeyman, come to scare your darling children into obedience, or a blight upon the weyr, come to reconcile those past slights in favor of my ever-mysterious employer. Others might tell you that I'm a gentleman, the one who holds open the doors with a smile and a friendly greeting whenever I pass through.
The truth is that there is no truth. You have an imagination, darling. So go ahead, then. Use it.
| Name | Relation | Location | Position |
|---|
idk who dey be
| Title | OOC Date | Cast | Synopsis |
|---|---|---|---|
| Excuse Me, Witch | March 31, 2019 | Molochai, Sigrid | It's hot. But not that kind of hot. |
| Prepare for Trouble | April 2, 2019 | Molochai, Sigrid | They bond. Over their mutual hate for each other. And that guy back there trying to cut his fingers off. |
| Make It Double | April 8, 2019 | Molochai, Sigrid | Flour and fists fly everywhere. |
| Looks Like They're Blasting Off Again | April 9, 2019 | Molochai, Sigrid | This time a mop gets thrown, and no progress is made with along-getting. |
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