Name: Mtume AKA The Messenger AKA "GHOUL!"
Race: Ghoul (Type Z-Gamma)
Class: Blood Symbiote
Mtume is a ghoul with a memorable gait and a slight indistinguishable accent. He makes a living in greyfell dispersing information among it's inhabitants. Remaining mostly neutral among the surrounding factions, Mtume is willing to step into a tough situation to deliver important messages when tensions are high.
While his communication skills are above average for what one might expect in a ghoul, Mtume's mind is fractured from his transformation. Many times this will lead him from one topic to another without solidifying on one. Mtume is also sometimes emotionally unstable. While his general demeanor is calm and collected, if he is sparked up he can become irate very quickly.
There is a lot of confusion surrounding where exactly Mtume originated from, even in his own mind. He recalls none of what happened before he was infected. His mind, however, is full of clouded memories of his tranformation. When asked, Mtume will oft
en be willing to elaborate on what he knows to someone he trusts.
Recently it would seem Mtume is going through another tranformation. He claims he can feel his blood flowing again, and there are many stipulations as to w hat that actually means. The left side of his body is starting to show a faint red, and his left iris has turned entirely red. Mtume is very off-put by the new feeling. He was very distraught when someone commented that he may be "turning human again." He already had such a hard time coping with death, he doesn't want to cope with returning to life.
Mtume's outfit is a mish-mash of things that he's found over time. The main piece is a blue vaulter's suit. While he has never confirmed it, it has been speculated that it may have belonged to him before he turned into a ghoul. Across the blue jumpsuit are a few belts which Mtume often hangs beads or other small items. He uses one of these belts as a make-shift sheath for his short, symbol-ridden machete. Mtume's face is never without the white paint, which is fashioned to look like a skull. He wear's an orange bandana across his forhead, emblazoned on which are some bold-print black letters. Mtume's skin is a crackling pale white, with the occasional scar or blister. His left eye is an odd red color, mismatching his grey-blue right eye. The particularly keen may have noticed that recently his left arm and other left-side sections of Mtume's skin have been turning a slightly red color.
"What makes the sight of bones scary? They represent what is no longer. A landmark in place of what used to walk among us. A reminder that we are mortal and a token to show us that we will one day lose the fight against this vile world's reaches to remove us.
That is not what I see when I see a skull. I see a reminder of a life lived. The celebrated attempt for the soul to tell the world "I was here, and I am not gone." For where a man dies, his legend lives on.
Some believe in keeping the bones of a slain man to prove themselves-- to say "Look what I did!" and proclaim that they are strong. They equate these remains to victory, and hope to strike fear into those who see them.
Fear is not what I feel when I see these people. Strength is not what I see in these men. I see weakness in the core of these men, that they must carry the core of a fellow man-- as if to make up for what they lack. And in their attempts to quell those around them, they only let the slain live on-- to let a legend roam the lands once more proclaiming "These men have not killed me!"
Do not mistake my alama for what they are not. These markings are not to strike fear into those around me. Many a foolish man has fallen at my foot. They were a danger to themselves, and I, merely a sheath to temper their edge. All mortals make mistakes and meet their end. I only had the honor of bringing it to them. And I have committed as a messenger in these lands to make it only an end in flesh, and not in soul. These scores on my skin, made from the ground bones of the fallen, serve to perpetuate legends! And to remind us all that no mortal, not even I, can outrun death."
On weapon brokering:Edit
"Anyone who has opened their eyes in the past decade know that Kasm is a dangerous place. From the egotistical havoc-bringers wielding bullet flinging devices to the armed-to-the-teeth justice givers toting even more weapons “just to be safe,” you can safely say safety is a commodity no one has readily available to give.
Until now, that is. With all the fighting and chaos around us, is it a surprise to know there are those who cannot defend themselves. Whether they be a peaceful body with a principle to hold or a simple traveler without the knowledge to scavenge and use slug-throwers, not one can say a defense is unnecessary.
I have constructed some mouth weapons which propel powerful darts silently and over long distances. I will be lending them from day to day to those who are in need. Of course, without at least a small price, how would I determine who to lend them to? Whether you’re someone in need of a side arm, someone who likes being silent, or just someone who has nothing to defend yourself, find me. We can work something out to make this god-forsaken world a little more bearable."
Disclaimer: All info found in this wiki article is neither common knowledge nor usable IC. Your knowledge of this character as a player extends as far as what others have told you about him or what you've gathered from meeting him yourself. Do not use this information in game unless previously worked out with his player, Chris Peabody.