Malcolm   S-10 | D-17 | Co-12 | I-14 | W-10 | Ch-18 | HP-48

Human | Neutral Good

Fighter (2) | Bard (5)

Fort - 5 | Will - 7 | Reflex - 7

AC   Normal-18 | Flat-?

Feats   Iron Will | Point Blank Shot | Precise Shot | Dodge | Mobility | Shot On The Run | Weapon Focus - Long Bow | [Next - Rapid Shot]

Skills-?

AGE: 25
HEIGHT: 5'11"
WEIGHT: 190
SKIN COLOR: Light Olive
EYE COLOR: Brown
HAIR COLOR: Brown
HAIR LENGTH: Long
PHOBIAS: Naked Women
PERSONALITY TRAITS: See Below
INTERESTS: 
SPOKEN STYLE: Dainty

Malcolm, is a lean faced young man with an infectious smile. He dresses colorfully, but elegantly, when performing, and simply, otherwise. His long brown hair is usually kept pulled back into a pony tail. He will rarely be seen, in casual settings, without a musical instrument in his hands.
Malcolm is an earnest, eager, and intensive individual. His time among the Harpers has made him sympathetic to the aims of their movement, and the plight of those less fortunate than himself. The circumstances of his youth causes him to crave approval and affection, which has a side effect of leading him to multitudes of short, intense relationships, as he searches for something he can't seem to find. Malcolm has a great capacity for affection, and has been, sincerely, in love with up to 5 different girls, at once. He is, generally, nicer to people than they deserve. He can, sometimes, come off as naive, but never stupid. He is generally easy to get along with and rarely complains, or devolves into cynicism. He is a hopeless romantic, and wants to be remembered for great deeds in the service of simple folk. He truley believes that a powerful song can fundamentally changes the heart of the listener.

25 years ago, a babe entered this world to decidedly little fanfare. His mother, a busy professional of the oldest sort, had been sorely inconvenienced by the preparations for his arrival, and was disenchanted with his very existence from the first moment she was prodded into nursing him. His father could not be identified, much less contacted, and certainly had no interest in such an trifling by-product. As such, the child grew up undesired, and unnamed.
At approximately 8 years (no one bothered with his birthdays), the boy, now sometimes called "Squirrel" for his agile balancing skills, fell in with a different kind of wrong sort of people. He found that his new friends paid more attention to his daily nutritional requirements and so, one day, he simply "walked" away from home. Running was not required, as he was not missed. His new friends definitely saw something promise in the nimble youth's ability to scamper up walls and run along roof tops. Within weeks, he was one of Gryth's most accomplished second story "men".
"Squirrel" dance merrily across the Grythian skyline for three years, always one step ahead of the local constabulary. He used his small size and slight build to enter where no one would think to guard, and hide where no one would think to look. He did very well, or as well as young boy in the keep of footpads could hope. He ate regularly, slept undisturbed, and was allowed to keep more of his "earnings" than he truly had a need for. More impotently for him, he was a valued member of "family". Of sorts. It was, at least for him, an idyllic sort of life, although he sometimes wondered what it would be like to live his life in light of day. He was soon to find out.
It was on a simple inn job, one like dozens of others, where his life suddenly changed. He knew from the moment that he slipped into the room that it was a set up. Everything was just ... wrong. And then a large man next to the door opened up a lantern at his side, readjusted his cross-bow, and smiled. A quick glance out the window confirmed that Squirrel's "friends" had melted away, and that the night patrol had gathered in the alley. Just like that, it was over. And it had just begun, as well.
The man with the crossbow was Alain Serafin, a well-known minstrel. He had agreed to make an obvious target of himself to help the constabulary trap the "Roof Rat", another of the boy's nicknames, and the plan had gone off flawlessly. But now, the aging troubadour found himself faced with a boy not completely unlike he was at the same age, a street urchin, and was quite surprised to find himself volunteering to take the oddly endearing child under his wing (and out of town).
The first gift Alain gave the child was a name: Malcolm, after his own beloved grandfather. Over the next few years, he was to give him him many more gifts. Early on, an appreciate for music, to which the child took immediately, to Alain's delight. Later, he introduced Malcolm to his wide and accomplished circle of friends. Malcolm spent 2 summer's with the noted elven poet Syrlian Silverleaf learning archery, when his obvious proclivities in that area became obvious. Malcolm and Alain traveled for a year with the revered sage Theodorus Karastar, learning the mysteries of antiquity. They traveled constantly, both of them taking all sorts of odd-jobs, to learn the ways of the world, and hearts of the people. But they always made time for the music.
Malcolm parted ways with his mentor when the later became embroiled in the court at Starhold, and went his own way, for a few years. He kept in touch with the older man, as he became more and more involved with the secretive Harpers Guild, and even ran a number of errands for him (of which he understood little and asked less) on that account. So, when he saw Syrilian Silverleaf approach him at the tavern in Dhara’s Grove, here he awaited the coming festival, he naturally assumed his old friend carried a mission from his old master. Instead, he carried only a message and a gift. The grinning minstrel who saved the nameless child had just died in service to his cause. His final will asked that the lad consider joining the Harpers, in his place, but understood if he chose not. In addition, there was a beautiful harp, his own favorite, to have in any case.
He asked only that there be no casting to determine its nature, as that would become obvious when the time was right. And one final request, as well: to play the Gleeman's Lament for him, in memory.
It was, perhaps, Malcolm's finest performance.