MALAKAI

Werebeast

Male

35

~270 lbs (122 kg)

6'5" (195 cm)

Reddish brown

Deep-set, piercing purple irises that seem almost glowing in the dark.

Human...ish?

Towering, muscular frame—not just bulky, but dense and powerful, built for sheer strength.

Broad, prominent cheekbones and an elongated jawline, giving him a beastly look.

Dark tan to reddish-brown skin, rough with scars from years of fighting.
Patches of coarse, reddish fur across his forearms, back, and shoulders.
Wears a thick orangutan-like pelt—but it’s actually his own molted fur.

Bold blue markings over his cheeks, forehead, and down his nose, resembling a mandrill’s vibrant face paint.
Some markings are tattooed, others seem to change slightly depending on his state.

Loud, aggressive, and unpredictable—but not mindless. He’s not some brainless thug swinging wild.
Ego-driven, deeply bitter, but weirdly charismatic. You want to like him… until he’s pummeling you into the ground.
Has a boisterous laugh and a tendency to howl like a primate before a fight, rattling his chest for intimidation.
Weirdly polite at times, but never insincere. If he respects you, you’ll know. If he doesn’t, well… he’ll make it clear.

Malakai is a character featured in Norrington's Desire: Under Pressure. He is a tall, imposing man who antagonizes the V7D, but has no particular ties to either the House of Laurel or the du Cronos Dynasty.

He's lone warrior. No interest in power, no desire to rule over people. He’s a force of nature, a problem that shows up, wrecks everything, and leaves. His body gives off the impression of something barely restrained—broad, sinewy, with sharp, animalistic movements. His face is striking, with a painted stripe down his nose, mimicking a mandrill’s vibrant colors. His teeth? Uncomfortably sharp.

He wears a pelt with reddish fur, he howls, he moves like a beast, but no one actually thinks he’s anything other than a man—until he isn’t.

His “pelt” isn’t just a cloak; it’s his second skin. When he transforms, it spreads, his body stretching and distorting into something more beast than man.
His arms lengthen, shoulders broadening as his hands curl into massive, clawed grips. His legs become more powerful, his stance shifting to something hunched and predatory.
The colors of a mandrill intensify—deep reds and blues marking his face, his eyes turning wild and primal. His howl shakes the air, no longer just a battle cry, but a declaration of what he is. A mandrill-like werebeast.

That being said, he's a survivor first, fighter second. He’s not unafraid—he’s alive because he’s afraid. His greatest strength, his weremandrill transformation, only happens when he’s afraid for his life. That’s a serious catch because it means:
- He can’t activate it on command.
- He might avoid fights where he doesn’t feel the stakes.
- He fights dirty as hell—because the longer he can hold off transformation, the longer he has control.

He has no filter. He whoops and howls, not just in battle, but in conversation. His voice carries. He laughs loud, taunts loud, and when he’s pissed, you’ll hear him from a mile away. His laugh is this deep, barking, almost hyena-like sound that makes people uncomfortable because it never sounds fully human.

He’s always moving, pacing, shifting, tilting his head in sudden, sharp movements—no stillness. His fingers might drum against his thigh, his foot might tap—like he’s ready to pounce at any second.
His stare is unnerving. He holds eye contact way too long because mandrills challenge each other through stares. He dares people to flinch first.
Climbing instinct—if there’s something to perch on, he’s sitting up high. He likes hanging off railings, sitting on the back of chairs, perching on ledges—if there’s vertical space, he’ll take it.

He might inspire fear or respect, but he’s not someone people rally behind.
He’s competitive as hell, but in a way that’s personal rather than political. He doesn’t want control—he just hates losing.
Easily provoked. If someone disrespects him, he has to react. It’s a deep-seated primal instinct—ignoring a challenge is unnatural to him.

BACKSTORY:
Malakai was another prizefighter, maybe even one of the good heavy hitters. But he came up during the same time as Quincey. They fought in the same circles, competed for the same titles. Probably were really good friends. But when it came down to it, Quincey beat him. Badly.

That alone isn't bad enough, but Malakai was banking everything on that win—contracts, sponsorships, legitimacy. But because he lost to Quincey, his career was ruined. Maybe it wasn’t just the loss, but something about the way he lost:

The match was controversial. Malakai felt there was some shady business—bad calls, unfair treatment.

The thing is, Quincey never thought it was that big of a deal, that's just how business is. While Malakai has obsessed over it for years.

To make matters even worse, Malakai was also contracted to Quincey’s manager, he even recommended him... the one who double-crossed them. So when Quincey’s career went up in flames, the whole operation got exposed and crashed. Malakai, caught in the fallout, lost everything even though he had nothing to do with Quincey’s downfall.

In his eyes, Quincey got to walk away, while Malakai was left to rot.

His hatred festered. Unlike Quincey, who kept fighting and eventually found a new purpose with the V7D, Malakai got stuck in a downward spiral—and then, somehow, he gained the ability to turn into that demonic mandrill. Maybe he doesn’t even fully understand it, but he knows one thing: he won’t be weak ever again...

That being said, Malakai isn’t just brooding about his past 24/7—he’s a loud, brash shit-talker.
He’s got zero self-awareness about how ridiculous his grudge is. He’ll roar about "justice" when he really just wants to knock Quincey’s teeth in.
Despite his size and sheer brutality, he’s actually fun as hell to watch fight—the kind of guy who laughs mid-battle because he lives for the thrill.
He’s not completely evil, though. If their goals align, he’ll begrudgingly work with Quincey, but not without making it as annoying as possible.

Miyuki, Medea, and Nicoletta probably see him as a dangerous threat, but they notice pretty quickly that he doesn’t actually go after them unless necessary.
He only wants Quincey. If the others get in his way, fine, but Malakai isn’t looking to put bystanders in the middle.

Malakai isn’t stupid. If working with the V7D benefits him, he’ll do it. He might sneer and throw insults at Quincey the whole time, but he’s not so petty that he’d ruin his own chances at survival.
But when it’s just him and Quincey? That’s when the gloves come off.

Malakai hates Quincey with everything he has, but Quincey? He probably doesn’t feel the same level of rage in return.
Quincey feels guilt, but not enough to think he actually wronged Malakai. In his mind, “That’s just how things played out. It sucks, but that’s life. You chose to let that disaster define the rest of your life”
That’s infuriating to Malakai. He wants Quincey to hurt the way he hurt, but Quincey just won’t give him that satisfaction.

Style: Unorthodox Brawler Meets Primal Instinct. He mixes traditional boxing, street fighting, and raw animalistic ferocity.

Transformed Form (Weremandrill)
Trigger: Fear of death. He must be on the brink of losing to transform.

Grows a foot taller, body expands, fur thickens, face fully takes on a mandrill’s shape.
Teeth become full fangs, fingers lengthen into claw-like nails.
Muscles swell, veins bulge—pure, savage force.

Massive Boost in Strength – If he was strong before, now he’s terrifying.
Unmatched Durability – Hits that would kill a man barely slow him down.
Primal Instinct – His reflexes, movement, and awareness skyrocket.
Echo Howl – A deafening, primal roar that stuns enemies and can even crack solid structures.

No Fear, No Change – If he doesn’t feel like he’s in danger, he can’t transform.
Short Control Window – The form is powerful, but it burns out quickly.
Exhaustion – After transforming, he’s vulnerable—body wrecked from the strain.