│ Basic Information │
- │ Name │ Rhysion Talon
- │ Alias │
- The Slave
- Dorian Harper
- John Doe
- Tai Fa
- Akos
- Tiamat
- The Black Alchemist
- Son of Sidious
│ Titles │
│ Species │ Near Human - Half Arkanian
│ Allegiance │
- InterGalactic Banking Clans
- Confederacy of Independent Systems
-
Srina Talon
│ Homeworld │ Unknown
│ Connections │
│ Force Sensitivity │ Yes
- Midichlorian Count: 24,131 mpc
│ Voice Sample │ Pain
│ Physical Information │
- │ Age │ 28
- │ Gender │ Male
- │ Height │ 1.85m
- │ Weight │ 95.25kg
- │ Eye Color │ Gold
- │ Hair │ Silver
- │ Complexion │ Caucasian, Pale
- │ Distinguishing Marks │
- Small scar behind the ear.
- Large scar across his chest, almost directly over his heart.
│ Appearance │
Darth Maliphant.
A man who’s looks make him as iconic as his actions. From head to toe, he is wears dark and fashionable clothing when able, a sith tome in one hand and an artifact often in the other. Perhaps one of the gracious abilities he has is his uncanny good lucks despite a life of hardship and deplorable conditions; something he could no doubt give credit to his epicanthix mother for. Still, he never fails to bring this beauty to full bore at any and all occasions.
From the sultry look in his molten electrum eyes, to the way his ashy lips curl into a predatory grin, The Slave’s emotions are plastered upon his face like a mural meant not for mankind, but the ascended and chosen so graced with his presence. A faint wink, a cock of the brow, each enough to melt the walls so many build to combat such a presence. A robust jaw line, carefully sculpted cheekbones, he is what many consider to be a magnum opus of the god’s creation; with every ounce of their effort made to make him the beautiful specimen he is.
Hair of alabaster, Maliphant keeps it unkempt yet trimmed. Ranging anywhere from shoulder length to faintly cropped allows him the gracious flexibility to both impose and cater to many’s traditional looks on beauty. Some even consider his features to be slightly effeminate, likely adding to his genderless attractiveness. Neither the most testosterone filled man, nor the effeminate lady boy some may hope, he has filled a gap between the two as a well adjusted, well appreciated specimen one would prefer to hang on their wall as a piece of art than wander from battlefield to battlefield.
And yet, his body is sculpted just for that; War. While his face seems perfect, flawless to the love flustered audience that views him, his body was once scarred and formed not by love and tenderness, but the likes of slave drivers and masters of old. Scars had lined his back and chest, arms and legs with little reprieve for his age, undone by numerous cosmetic surgeries imposed by The Sith Empire to hide his past. Perhaps one of the reasons he’s turned so dark with his freedom, the man once known as The Slave held onto his scars to tell a story from shoulder to ankle, with even the barefoot bottoms of his feet once covered in lashes and wounds. Yet it holds strong with its well muscled, defined presence; an obvious sign to his fit nature and dedication to the art of war.
In this, Maliphant finds a balance of startling pain and disturbing beauty; a figure so steeped in appearance that everything from his smile to his shoes declare him the greatest in any room he enters. There is nothing he backs away from, especially when given the chance to fully perform to any audience; many even declaring him faintly reminiscent of a certain bird sith he’s neither met, nor cares to.
│ Personality │
As Sith often go, their most common features often reside in power projection. The act of domineering over lesser beings, to express supremacy in all regards to anything with enough thought to recognize you as such. This eternal struggle of the juggernaut drives many Sith to the ends of the galaxy in search of what will make them stronger, faster, more dangerous than every Sith around them; and this often can be the greatest weakness of any of them. This unending search, this war path that never ceases until every knee is bent and every tongue praises a new king; it is nothing if not eternal.
Maliphant is not this Sith, not publically. His movements are subtle, careful political alliances and machinations that make him the exact person those of the warpath seek out in their onslaught. He does not direct, only leading from the shadows as the incarnate manipulations in the great game. He does not appear as a man of such great strength that one should fear, what Maliphant carries is harbored, made tangible and solid in assets and holdings, artifacts and knowledge. Maliphant is not the Sith of the Old Republic, but a Sith founded on the teachings of a thousand years of the greatest of what the Sith ever produced.
The man known as Dorian Harper hides much of this behind his calm demeanor however, as his gaze is questioning and his looks piercing. Carrying himself with confidence, he holds an unbelievable loyalty to the Sith as a whole, yet carries a strong sense of self determination from what he has begun to learn from eons of Sith before him. He is not the torturous sith who seeks the sundered lives of millions, sending lines of refugees to the slaughter for nothing more than a symbol, but the embodied perfection of a scalpel. There is not so much cruelty in his heart that he cannot feel love or pride, but there is a certain protection to his internal thoughts at all times.
Understanding how dangerous public weakness is, Maliphant doesn’t allow those who he unfamiliar with to see him falter, never to gaze upon the turbulence in his heart. Instead, even when bothered, he strengthens his ever present visage of apathey, or predation if he so wishes. The man is a myth to anyone but those very few he chooses to let into his mind, and fewer still to see into his heart. Despite all the mongering and power grabs, the man is still but a human, with everything but the strongest emotions of charity to weaken his grasp on the Dark Side as a whole.
At the end of the day, he is not a man to be trusted. He believes himself alone in this galaxy, and holds everyone at odds with that mentality. To get something from him, you must give; and to gain his trust in next to impossible but for a few careful individuals.