Post by Elloria on Nov 10, 2010 14:00:22 GMT -5
Name:
Josk Danta
Age:
245
Race:
Elf
Occupation:
Hive Drone of Malakian Company
Allegiance:
The Hive
Physical Description:
“Handsome” is not a word that has ever been used to describe Josk Danta. He’s simply not masculine enough to merit it, even for an elf. sHe is and always has been “beautiful.” He doesn’t have most of the usual sharp features characteristic of elves. Save for his eyes, brows, and ears, he is a creature of soft lines and curves. His face is more oval-shaped and does not angle to a sharply defined chin. His lips are full, though the lower is slightly fuller than the upper. This gives him the appearance of pouting when his face is simply in a neutral expression.There is no trace of hair around his mouth or along his jaw. His ears are pierced and he typically wears dangling ruby earrings in them. The blood-red color is beautiful to him. His frame is slender, but without much muscular definition. This is, of course, deceptive for he is as strong as any male elf his age. Josk’s not overly tall for an elf, standing at about 6 feet 5 inches tall. Silken black hair often frames his face in thick curtains that end just below his jaw. It becomes progressively longer as it moves to the back of his head. At its greatest length, it hangs between his shoulder blades.
The dark hair serves as a sharp contrast to his skin tone. Through the magic he learned in Ilirea, Josk has maintained the ivory flesh he has sometimes been envied for. Indeed, many who met him as a child always remarked that there seemed to be slight glow to his ivory flesh - something beyond the glow typical of elven children. It's a glow that persists to this day, though he has long since outgrown childhood. On his forehead is a faded birthmark shaped like a serpentine dragon emerging from a flame. His most striking feature, however, is neither his iridescent skin nor the odd and obvious birthmark. It is his silvery eyes. Rather, it is the intensity within them that oft gives people pause. In a culture that relies heavily on subtle body language and gestures to convey intent, the open expressiveness of his eyes is unusual and sometimes daunting.
It seems only fitting that a creature of such singularly pale complexion should choose to wear clothing that serves to contrast against it. In Josk’s case, he can almost always be found wearing black or dark grey tunics and trousers. These are usually trimmed with gold embroidery. Despite the rather simplistic design of his clothes, Josk is very particular about the type of material he wears. If she gave him little else, his mother did give him a fine appreciation for silk. Unless on an assignment for the Hive, Josk will usually wear clothes made of the finest silk cloth. If he’s not wearing silk, it is always something made of soft wool. He usually wears two layers of shirts. A thinner silk shirt is worn beneath a heavier one. The over-shirt is either a heavy silk or wool. The undershirt is always silk. However, this is hardly practical attire for a member of the Hive. That is what his magically-reinforced brocade cloak is for. It is clasped about his neck by a black chain attached to a golden brooch and trimmed with the feathers of black swans. In the center of the brooch is his favorite stone - obsidian. This particular one is black, much like the one in the ring upon his right hand. About his neck is a wrought-iron necklace that belonged to his mother. He is often seen carrying a single-handed, black bladed sword. The ornate hilt is impractically long and inset with another black obsidian. Despite its ornamental look, it is still a deadly weapon that he is quite proficient with.
Personality:
If eyes are the windows to the soul, then Josk’s is dark, passionate, tender and savage. He is a man of many contradictions. He is constantly seeking acknowledgment from the women of the Hive - a true role reversal for him, for he is more readily accepted in the patriarchal world of DuWeldenvarden. At the same time, he would like nothing better than for all the Hive to be wiped from the face of Alagaësia. These two polar opposite and conflicting forces in his life have created a deeply insecure individual who has learned to mask that insecurity through a humble, though sometimes violent, defense of himself.
His mother ingrained a deep respect and admiration for women within him from a very young age. It was continually reinforced throughout his adolescent years, right up to her death. This respect, however, is always at odds with the burning resentment he feels towards his mother - and through her, women in general. His mother, the Hive’s Regent, rarely had kind words for her sons. Josk lived in constant fear of her, for she had a deep-seated hatred of all men that had been spawned by the mistreatment of Josk and Niko’s father. In spite of this, he was deeply devoted to her and is always humble around women - in the Hive and out - to prove to his mother that not all men are despicable.
But for all his humble mannerisms, Josk is known in the Hive for his ruthlessness. To be a man in the Hive often requires such attitude, if one wishes to be respected. Josk, however, goes beyond even that. He delights in completing assignments in the most brutal and painful manners possible. The suffering of his enemies brings him great pleasure and he will gleefully torture any and all who cross him “until the last exquisite and rapturous drop of misery is drained from them. Only then are they allowed to die.” He does his job with great passion and vigor, reveling in the sense of power it gives him.
Still, there is tenderness within him. To those fortunate enough to be close to him, he is unfailingly kind and gentle. He does not love freely, but does love with all his heart. Since the death of his mother, there has been only one person whom he really gives a damn about - his brother and only remaining relative, Niko.
In short, Josk is a man of extremes. There has never been a middle ground for him.
History:
From the moment of their birth, Josk and Niko Danta were not destined for an easy life. Though twins - a great rarity that was happily greeted by the elven world at large - they were boys. And that was a fact Miala Danta could hardly tolerate. Miala was the abused, neglected and miserable wife of Tios Danta, a nobleman in the courts of Ellesméra. He was a deeply ambitious man and often neglected his wife in favor of planning elaborate gambits for the Grand Game. The pregnancy of Josk and Niko was a drunken accident. Neither Miala nor Tios had ever intended to have children. By this time, Miala had joined the Hive and begun to gain some confidence in herself. It was enough to occasionally stand up to her husband, though the incident that resulted in Josk and Niko was not one of her most successful attempts. Still, Miala harbored some hope that she would bear daughters and be able to raise them to be confident women, loyal members of the Hive. Instead she bore two beautiful boys - and instantly despised them. She had very little to do with them in their early years, allowing them to basically run around as they pleased to be chased by a nursemaid. This didn’t seem to bother Niko very much. But for Josk, it was always a source of confusion and hurt. He sometimes saw other elf children with their parents. Other families seemed very tight-knit and happy. Why wasn’t his? Tios was rarely home for the first 25 years, always caught up in advancing himself in the Grand Game. Josk has very few memories of his father and none of them are pleasant ones. As for his mother, she was always as distant, untouchable, and inexpressibly beautiful to him as a queen. But he deeply felt her disappointment in him and his brother, hating it and wanting to change it.
When it came time to send them away to Ilirea, she had no reservations. There were no teary goodbyes. Their clothes were packed up and they were shipped off. Niko easily settled into the groove of life in Ilirea. Josk always felt out of place, always trying to out-do everyone around him. It was during his fifty years here that the rivalry between the two brothers began to develop. Just as Niko was better suited to the lifestyle of Ilirea, so too was he the more powerful twin. Though he loved his brother, Josk could never accept the fact that his “little” brother outshone him in nearly every single skill set. Only in magic was Josk more skilled than Niko and this was always a source of delight for Josk. Though their bond had developed into a rivalry, Josk could never say he hated Niko anymore than Niko could say he hated Josk. They had always been all the other had had and that sort of closeness does not die so easily.
At the end of 50 years, however, the brothers parted ways. They, who had once been inseparable, could no longer quite see eye to eye. And while Niko had fallen in love with Ilirea, Josk saw nothing desirable about it. Their parting was painful and bitter, but both knew that it was simply how they had turned out. Josk was not meant for Ilirea and Niko was never meant to leave it. Thus Josk returned to Ellesméra to find that his home had greatly changed. Not Ellesméra itself, but the household he had grown up in. His father had recently been killed in a failed gambit and Miala now ruled their household. Tios’ death was not particularly painful for Josk to endure. He had seen the man little enough that the loss was no different from a normal day. The difference he felt the most came from his mother. The vitality and joy he saw in her entire demeanor awed him. Though she still treated him as coldly as before, there was a radiance to her now that Josk felt drawn to. He spent the next several years trying to gain her acknowledgment and confidence. It wasn’t until nearly three decades later that she finally accepted him as her son. This didn’t really change her attitude towards him - she still despised the fact that he was male. But she tolerated his company more and even deigned to speak to him. He had discovered much about her treatment by Tios during those first thirty years after his return. And while he felt her hatred for Tios was justified, he could never understand why it had extended to him and his brother as well. They were not their father, after all.
Around his 120th birthday, Josk learned of his mother’s position in the shadowy organization known as the Hive. He had heard many rumors about the woman-controlled group that had its claws in every bit of minutiae around Alagaësia. But the day his mother brought him into her office and told him her plans for his induction into the Hive, Josk felt both elation and dread. In this meeting - one in which she almost treated him as an equal, a great rarity - Miala explained the purpose of the Hive and how ideally suited Josk seemed to be to certain aspects of it. Namely, assassination. Josk’s knowledge of poisons and antidotes was well known in certain circles of DuWeldenvarden. Miala had decided that it would be in the Hive’s best interests to induct Josk - though it would surely be a great hardship upon him. Males, after all, were greatly despised in the Hive’s ranks. Still, it wasn’t unheard of for one to gain some respect and be given some authority. As a son of the current Hive Regent, there was little doubt in Miala’s mind that he might become such. He had been raised “properly.”
Josk initially refused. At the time, he had no desire to be part of a world in which he would once again be out of place. It would have been Ilirea all over again. Hadn’t that been his reason for returning to Ellesméra in the first place? The resulting argument saw Josk cast from the house and told that if he could so easily shame his mother, he had no business living under her roof. He was taken in by a “friend” of his father’s, Rensu, who was barely a century older than Josk. Josk believed that Rensu was simply being kind due to the “close friendship” between the older elf and Tios. The truth, of course, was that Rensu had been far closer to Tios than Miala had ever been. And Rensu had been most upset upon Tios death, for he knew that Miala had had a hand in it - for which she would pay, most dearly. Taking in Josk was, at the time, a means to an end. Josk was blissfully unaware of this and, for the first time in his life, settled into a routine with which he was happy.
The next sixty years were a delightful time for Josk. He often remarks that they were the happiest of his life and will likely remain the happiest because in those days, he had Rensu. Although for Rensu this had been the first step in destroying Miala, it eventually developed into something more. For all that Josk had spent so little time around his father, the passion and tenderness that he sometimes evinced were surprisingly reminiscent of the side of Tios Miala never saw - the side reserved for Rensu. The older elf began to feel rather attached to Josk, a connection that Josk certainly didn’t object to. It wasn’t love, not at first. But as the two spent increasing amounts of time together, it developed into a love unlike anything Josk had thought possible. There was little enough love in his life from all quarters. To be so fully immersed in it as he now was, was the greatest and worst thing to ever happen to him. A love that all-consuming could not last forever and the loss of it was inexpressably devastating to the young Josk. It is the only death in his life that has ever made such a profound impact on him - not even that of his mother would ever break him the way Rensu’s did.
Returning home on his 180th birthday, Josk discovered Rensu’s eviscerated remains splattered around the room they had shared. There was no indication as to who might have done this and the identity of Rensu’s murderer remains a mystery to Josk to this day. But it would undoubtedly change his opinions about his mother and the Hive if he ever learned that Miala was responsible. It was not because she felt Rensu was tainting her son. She was hardly affectionate enough for that. No, it was because Rensu’s relationship with Tios - a relationship she had only recently learned of - had destroyed all chances of a happy marriage for her. To her, that was unforgivable. The unintentional side effect, however, was decidedly in her favor. It was, ironically, the one thing that could have possibly pushed Josk into joining the Hive. He had never understood how broken his mother’s heart had been while she had lived under Tios’ tyrannical rule. The shattering of his own heart had given him some perspective and a bit of insight. If things had been truly that terrible for her - such that Tios’ death was joyous - was not the purpose of the Hive a decent one? In many ways, of course, Josk was merely grasping at straws. But it did bring a reconciliation between him and his mother.
So it was in a broken frame of mind that Josk was inducted into the hive. He was placed in the Malakian Company in Ellesméra, at the very bottom of the food chain. A lowly male and Drone, he set about carving a niche for himself. Many were the time he was spat upon, cursed at, and even beaten despite the well-known fact that he was the Regent’s son. He rarely fought back - the few times he did resulted in far harsher punishment, often meted out by his own mother. He began to adopt a more humble mien to deal with the cruel criticism heaped upon him by the female Hive members. That, coupled with his cold-blooded behavior during the assignments he was given, did more for his advancement as a Drone than his bloodline ever could have. By the time of his mother’s death some sixty years later, Josk had made a name for himself as a poison connoisseur and torture expert. Thus, he is treated with a slight modicum of respect, though it is hardly enough for him to be considered for the one position he covets: Hive Lieutenant.
His mother’s death in a gambit gone wrong - so reminiscent of his father’s death - was something of a final straw for Josk. He has become very withdrawn in the five years since it occurred and shows no affection whatsoever to those around him. Where there used to be some camaraderie between him and the few other males in Malakian Company, he now had nothing to do with them. He simply awaits each assignment that comes to him and throws himself completely into the task. He does not wish to give even the tiniest part of himself away to another because experience has taught him that they will leave him - often very violently. He now has but one goal - to become a Hive Lieutenant and make damn sure that the Hive and the world remembers him for all time.
Roleplaying Sample:
(This is a post for my swordmaster Genji Kazan on A World Undone)
Genji chose to not mimic Ryumo's movements as the younger man circled him. He remained stone-still, his eyes unfocused as he concentrated on the sounds around him. The silence of the teahouse made it an easy task to pick out the barely audible sound of Ryumo's blade slicing the air as it swung. He focused on that sound, rather than Ryumo’s footsteps, for it would be the one indication he had of the moment of attack. He kept track of the sound's position until Ryumo came back into sight and stopped to his left. He barely suppressed a grin as the man suddenly settled into an offensive stance - left foot forward and dagger just above chest-height. Now the battle would truly begin.
He didn’t immediately turn as Ryumo suddenly leapt at him. Instead, he effortlessly switched Kinsei to his left hand and twisted slightly to bring the flat of the blade up and parry the downward slash. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ryumo jump several feet in the air. The height was ideal for twin kicks; Kishi had been fond of using that technique when doing unarmed hand-to-hand. But this man was much faster than Genji had anticipated - and certainly faster than Kishi had been. He swept his left foot around and pivoted on his right so that he was directly facing Ryumo, bringing the blade up higher and placing his right palm against it to stabilize it as he blocked the kick to his face. In the same moment, he jumped back slightly - lessening the impact to his chest just enough to not send him flying. The two motions combined still sent him back several feet, forcing him into a crouch. The kick had left him somewhat winded, but he was on his feet. That was all that mattered. This was why he favored a lower center of gravity than most fighters chose. It hadn’t always worked in his favor, but tonight it seemed it would for the time being. He heard the people behind him scrambling away as he landed just in front of a table. His breath came in short pants as he stayed crouched.
Luck...that’s the only reason I’m not flat on my back right now. I wasn’t expecting that speed. Idiot. Idiot!
He rarely considered the speed of others when in battle because it was rare to come across one as fleet as he was. This Ryumo seemed a fair contender for speed and Genji was impressed. “I guess I’ll have to take you somewhat seriously,” he ground out. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or pissed about that. Without warning, he rose from his crouch and ran towards Ryumo, zig-zagging across the floor as he approached. Once within striking distance, he slashed upwards - the first of a flurry of strikes he proceeded to initiate. A thrust at the chest, another slash aimed at Ryumo’s right arm, followed by a series of rapid thrusts designed to push Ryumo back. With his final attack, Genji swiftly altered his grip from the “hammer” to a reverse. The proximity was now close enough to merit the switch. In a moment, he had slid to his left and twisted so that the blade could drive back into Ryumo. He felt it catch on one of Ryumo’s gauntlets and yanked down, hoping to slice through the piece of armor.
