E%patriate ♐ Darkleer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
disgracedvoid) wrote2012-09-18 09:34 am
disgracedvoid) wrote2012-09-18 09:34 am
Entry tags:
CWP App
PLAYER INFO
Name/Handle: Fi
Personal Journal:faithlessness
Contact: faithbegetsfaith @ Gmail, AIM & Plurk
Current Characters: None
Player Age: 25
CHARACTER INFO
Name: Darkleer, formerly known as "the E%ecutor" and also known as "the Expatriate".
Series: Homestuck.
Canon Point: Well after Mindfang's death at the Summoner's hands, as well as the exile of adults from the planet.
Reference: MSPA wiki page on Ancestors His Pre-Scratch self.
Age: Several hundred sweeps, perhaps even bordering on a thousand. Physically, though he looks to be on his late 30's, with the midlife crisis to go with it, mentally and emotionally.
Gender: Male, both physically and mentally.
Suitability: N/A, since he's over 18
Appearance: N/A, unless the horns need to be shrinked. Those are some massive horns.
Background: This again.
Ancestors are a bit of a mixed bag, since there's little outright canon for them, but much can be implied from what is provided. Darkleer is the Post-Scratch version of Horuss Zahhak, that is to say, they are the very same person growing up in distinctly different circumstances. There are obvious similarities, such as core personality traits and certain mannerisms, but they are most certainly not the same person. A case of nature versus nurture, as it were.
In Darkleer's case, few things are known for certain about him: namely, that he was an executor for the Empire, carrying out sentences as ordered by his superiors and that he was privileged enough to be tasked to kill such famous and remarkable enemies of the state as were the Signless and his people. When time came for him to fulfill his duty, however, he failed to kill the Disciple and for that he was banished by his superiors and exiled from troll society as a whole. Much later, he would construct an arm for the Marquise Spinneret Mindfang - much the same his descendant would do for hers - and allow her to use the natural Void that surrounds him to hide her cueball from Doc Scratch.
Several things can be assumed from these few facts: first and foremost that Darkleer grew up as expected of a highblood and that his military career, prior to the incident with the Disciple, was more than likely promising. Of his early childhood nothing is known, though between what is known of his alternate self and his descendant, it seems reasonable to assume he would have strived to prove himself worthy of his social standing. His talent with bow and arrow are remarkable in that he is essentially a genetic clone of his descendant, and very likely possessed the same ridiculous strength that he does. As such, to have master such a weapon is a monument to his self-control and his determination, given the struggles Equius has gone through with it.
Another nod to his high social standing is the fact that his refusal to perform his duty - essentially high treason, considering who his targets were - was not met with death, but simply banishment. Given what we know of Alternian culture as well as their violent and ruthless customs, it seems almost bizarre that he would be allowed to live, instead of simply being executed for it. Though perhaps he was left alive because it was expected of him to kill himself. In his exile, he honed his talents in creating machinisms that highly resemble his descendant's work on robotics, despite the obviously limited resources at his disposal. He appears to be living alone in isolation, oddly undisturbed by anyone, except perhaps Mindfang. Given the ridiculous life span of trolls of his caste, it is very likely he has been entirely forgotten and outside Mindfang's influence, seems to be completely out of touch with the outside world.
Personality: Darkleer is, above all, a creature of extremes. Much like his alternate self, Horuss, he spent most of his life prior to exile trying his damn hardest to fit into what society expected of him. The Alternian counterpart to Horuss' "troll Renaissance man", Darkleer was a lover of fine art - as defined by Alternian standards that is - and a firm believer of the hemospectrum and the rigid principles that rule over each castes. He worked hard to be everything that a highblood of his station was expected to be, systematically curbing the less savory or socially acceptable sides of his personality. Because of it, he is a deeply repressed creature, bound by his need to be what others want him to be. Exile further twisted and warped his personality, between isolation and guilt.
Darkleer likes to present himself as a quiet, painfully polite man that carries himself with an odd sort of dignity. The nobility of his old station is very much ingrained into him, yet his status as an exile means he is perpetually outside the social order. But he is not, on principle, a cruel man. Not intentionally, at least. His personal brand of cruelty tends to come from insensitivity, rather than any real pleasure in causing pain. His initial apathy to the suffering of others made him a great executor, but after centuries in exile it has grown to be an overwhelming apathy toward everything and everyone around him. He has a fondness for history and even after what has happened to him, he still firmly believes in the principles of the hemospectrum as a guiding force and necessary structure of society. He's not really aware of the excesses and abuses perpetuated by it, because he has managed to rationalize it into a perfectly logical system. For him, the hemospectrum is a good thing, but not because it puts him at the top, but because it gives trolls a place in society and makes their lives "easier" by telling them what they should do. As such, his bigotry is much more insidious and pervasive than other highbloods, as Darkleer truly doesn't care that the hemospectrum privileges him over others, far more interested in the responsibilities that accompany such privileges. His fall from grace only served to make his devotion to the hemospectrum somewhat worse.
He's been alone with his thoughts long enough that he has managed to grieve out his failure; he's not wholly over it, but he has come to accept it as a his destiny, doubly so because he regrets the consequences of the act, but not the act itself. Thus he views himself as inherently flawed, and his exile as his just punishment for it. He will not kill himself, even in the depths of despair, simply because to die would be to end the punishment prematurely.
Underneath the surface, however, lurks a temper that has been slightly tamed by time and age, but that still retains its terrifying potential for rage. Should he be pushed beyond the boundaries of his patience, Darkleer is a force to be reckoned with, full of irrational anger and a frightful violence, made worse by his inhuman strength. He sees this as another failing, an undignified side of his personality that he has devoted his life to control and keep properly leashed, but which is still very much there all the time. It's not the violence itself that scandalizes him, as he is a highblood and such things are common and outright expected of them, but the depth of mindlessnes behind his fury that terrifies him as he recognizes it as a loss of control. His chosen weapon, bow and arrows, is a monument to his self-control, as we can see by his descendant's struggle with them that it must have not been easy feat to master it.
He is at the core a very repressed person, afraid of what he'd be, without the constant guidance from his ethical beliefs and the hemospectrum, constantly trying to focus his efforts and energy on non-destructive activities and distractions to keep his mind from wasting away into insanity. His skill with mechanisms and robotics are one of such things; though it was barely a hobby before his fall, afterwards he devoted most of his time to develop his skills and his technique at creating new, interesting little trinkets. Unlike his descendant, who builds robots only to destroy them, however, Darkleer is fond of his own creations, often upgrading them with his meager resources.
Centuries in exile have helped, somewhat, to mellow him out. He's calmer than he was, right after his banishment, and he's slowly grown back into himself, though he still remains a serious creature. He finds enjoyment in very few, often small things, and he makes sure not to share them out of a mix of paranoia and shame. He's still bitter about his situation and not at all willing to discuss it with anyone, but he's moved on from constant brooding about it. By now, all that's left for him is wait for death, and he has resigned himself to it.
Coming into CWP will be a shocking experience for him, first of all because it will force him out of his banishment and put him in contact with other people, never mind other trolls. Darkleer is not a terribly social creature by nature, but he is very curious and he will most likely be drawn by the structure of order and inherent symplicity in the caste system in this world. He will probably have some reservations about whether he should or not work towards raising himself to a higher caste, given his hangups as an exile and such, but once he finds a goal to work towards, he will dedicate himself to it. Coming from a society with an enforced breeding program, Darkleer is no stranger to sex by necessesity, though the difference in "why" sex is a necessity will perhaps make for interesting introspection and character development. He's hardly a virgin, of course, but he is also a mountain of repressed kinks and desires that he's buried away and denied because he deemed them inappropriate or unbecoming for one of his station. Among these things is the fact he gets off from being dominated, yet, much like his descendant, his place in the hemospectrum makes it hard to find a "suitable" person to administer said dominance, and the idea of submitting to someone lower than him is appalling - and also secretly very arousing. However, unlike his descendant, his status as an exile and thus completely ouside the social order, gives him a suitable excuse for his "pervertion". There are plenty other things that would get him off, and it would be interesting to see him explore them, along with his issues with his exile and his self-worth, through the caste/sex system in CWP.
Character Powers/Abilities/Skills: The first noteworthy one would be his skill with his chosen weapon, as he's continued to hone his mastery throughout the sweeps, he's an excellent archer whose accuracy has reached ridiculous levels of precision. Also of note are his dormant Void powers; Darkleer is not a player of the Game in this iteration of reality, but he retains, as do the other Ancestors, some inkling of his powers as a player. In his case, he is constantly shrouded in a "void" that makes it impossible to find him through scrying or divination. Though he is not conscious about it, it is somewhat tied to his emotional state and makes it very hard to find him when he doesn't want to be found. He has great skill when it comes to mechanisms and machinery, and he is capable of creating prosthetic limbs on demand, which implies a thorough knowledge of anatomy as well. Finally, aside the usual enhanced durability of all trolls, Darkleer is ungodly strong. Ungodly so. He can jump obscenely high distances and punch holes into solid steel and crumble rock like it's stale bread and break spines with a snap of his fingers. Much like with his descendant, his strength is almost a blessed with suck situation, where it can make everyday activities impossible if he loses control of it.
SAMPLES
First Person Sample:
[TEXT]
}↠ It is a strange thing, to find one's self in a place like this
}↠ Though I do not begrudge their plight, I must question the choice to bring in one such as I
}↠ Then again, I suppose such thoughts must cross the minds of all who step here
}↠ So perhaps, rather than ask those who have brought me here, I should ask those who share my fate
}↠ What have you decided
}↠ And why
Third Person Sample:
For a moment, as he lies on the floor of the hovel - for it is nothing more than a hovel - he wonders if he has finally gone insane. If after centuries of careful, methodical determination, he has lost the war against his own mind. Magical creatures like the ones that nearly killed him or the ones that saved him just to plead for his aid? Even to himself it sounds like the workings of a diseased mind. And yet it happened, did it not? For no matter how long he lays there, waiting for the illusion to melt away, it doesn't end. He does not wake on his workbench, having fallen asleep in the middle of another project. The ceiling remains the same, the strange smell of the place remains the same, the insistent pull in his gut to get up and examine the mirror remains the same.
With extreme apprehension, he seats himself upright, hair rustling as he moves. There is a basket nearby, and he decides to start his exploration there. He's still mostly convinced this is a dream, somehow, but if it will not go away, then he doesn't have much choice but to follow along with its logic. That usually works, in his experience, though given the set up of this particular dream, he will not be surprised if it turns out to be a day terror. The contents of the basket seem innocuous enough, but of course it is the notes that give him a sinking feeling that won't leave him be. Setting aside the basket, Darkleer explores the space he's been giving with something between curiosity and disdain. The disdain has less to do with having such accommodations assigned to someone like him, classless and casteless as he is, and more with being here at all. He isn't fit to be anyone's savior, in any capacity. It seems so ridiculous and nonsensical, surely the result of a feverish mind. He wonders if he's ill and somehow hallucinating the whole thing. He wonders if this is the prelude to the long awaited death.
He gives into the temptation to examine the mirror, after carefully pushing such thoughts away. If this is some kind of dream, it will eventually end. If it is not...
Well, he'll just deal with it.
Name/Handle: Fi
Personal Journal:
faithlessnessContact: faithbegetsfaith @ Gmail, AIM & Plurk
Current Characters: None
Player Age: 25
CHARACTER INFO
Name: Darkleer, formerly known as "the E%ecutor" and also known as "the Expatriate".
Series: Homestuck.
Canon Point: Well after Mindfang's death at the Summoner's hands, as well as the exile of adults from the planet.
Reference: MSPA wiki page on Ancestors His Pre-Scratch self.
Age: Several hundred sweeps, perhaps even bordering on a thousand. Physically, though he looks to be on his late 30's, with the midlife crisis to go with it, mentally and emotionally.
Gender: Male, both physically and mentally.
Suitability: N/A, since he's over 18
Appearance: N/A, unless the horns need to be shrinked. Those are some massive horns.
Background: This again.
Ancestors are a bit of a mixed bag, since there's little outright canon for them, but much can be implied from what is provided. Darkleer is the Post-Scratch version of Horuss Zahhak, that is to say, they are the very same person growing up in distinctly different circumstances. There are obvious similarities, such as core personality traits and certain mannerisms, but they are most certainly not the same person. A case of nature versus nurture, as it were.
In Darkleer's case, few things are known for certain about him: namely, that he was an executor for the Empire, carrying out sentences as ordered by his superiors and that he was privileged enough to be tasked to kill such famous and remarkable enemies of the state as were the Signless and his people. When time came for him to fulfill his duty, however, he failed to kill the Disciple and for that he was banished by his superiors and exiled from troll society as a whole. Much later, he would construct an arm for the Marquise Spinneret Mindfang - much the same his descendant would do for hers - and allow her to use the natural Void that surrounds him to hide her cueball from Doc Scratch.
Several things can be assumed from these few facts: first and foremost that Darkleer grew up as expected of a highblood and that his military career, prior to the incident with the Disciple, was more than likely promising. Of his early childhood nothing is known, though between what is known of his alternate self and his descendant, it seems reasonable to assume he would have strived to prove himself worthy of his social standing. His talent with bow and arrow are remarkable in that he is essentially a genetic clone of his descendant, and very likely possessed the same ridiculous strength that he does. As such, to have master such a weapon is a monument to his self-control and his determination, given the struggles Equius has gone through with it.
Another nod to his high social standing is the fact that his refusal to perform his duty - essentially high treason, considering who his targets were - was not met with death, but simply banishment. Given what we know of Alternian culture as well as their violent and ruthless customs, it seems almost bizarre that he would be allowed to live, instead of simply being executed for it. Though perhaps he was left alive because it was expected of him to kill himself. In his exile, he honed his talents in creating machinisms that highly resemble his descendant's work on robotics, despite the obviously limited resources at his disposal. He appears to be living alone in isolation, oddly undisturbed by anyone, except perhaps Mindfang. Given the ridiculous life span of trolls of his caste, it is very likely he has been entirely forgotten and outside Mindfang's influence, seems to be completely out of touch with the outside world.
Personality: Darkleer is, above all, a creature of extremes. Much like his alternate self, Horuss, he spent most of his life prior to exile trying his damn hardest to fit into what society expected of him. The Alternian counterpart to Horuss' "troll Renaissance man", Darkleer was a lover of fine art - as defined by Alternian standards that is - and a firm believer of the hemospectrum and the rigid principles that rule over each castes. He worked hard to be everything that a highblood of his station was expected to be, systematically curbing the less savory or socially acceptable sides of his personality. Because of it, he is a deeply repressed creature, bound by his need to be what others want him to be. Exile further twisted and warped his personality, between isolation and guilt.
Darkleer likes to present himself as a quiet, painfully polite man that carries himself with an odd sort of dignity. The nobility of his old station is very much ingrained into him, yet his status as an exile means he is perpetually outside the social order. But he is not, on principle, a cruel man. Not intentionally, at least. His personal brand of cruelty tends to come from insensitivity, rather than any real pleasure in causing pain. His initial apathy to the suffering of others made him a great executor, but after centuries in exile it has grown to be an overwhelming apathy toward everything and everyone around him. He has a fondness for history and even after what has happened to him, he still firmly believes in the principles of the hemospectrum as a guiding force and necessary structure of society. He's not really aware of the excesses and abuses perpetuated by it, because he has managed to rationalize it into a perfectly logical system. For him, the hemospectrum is a good thing, but not because it puts him at the top, but because it gives trolls a place in society and makes their lives "easier" by telling them what they should do. As such, his bigotry is much more insidious and pervasive than other highbloods, as Darkleer truly doesn't care that the hemospectrum privileges him over others, far more interested in the responsibilities that accompany such privileges. His fall from grace only served to make his devotion to the hemospectrum somewhat worse.
He's been alone with his thoughts long enough that he has managed to grieve out his failure; he's not wholly over it, but he has come to accept it as a his destiny, doubly so because he regrets the consequences of the act, but not the act itself. Thus he views himself as inherently flawed, and his exile as his just punishment for it. He will not kill himself, even in the depths of despair, simply because to die would be to end the punishment prematurely.
Underneath the surface, however, lurks a temper that has been slightly tamed by time and age, but that still retains its terrifying potential for rage. Should he be pushed beyond the boundaries of his patience, Darkleer is a force to be reckoned with, full of irrational anger and a frightful violence, made worse by his inhuman strength. He sees this as another failing, an undignified side of his personality that he has devoted his life to control and keep properly leashed, but which is still very much there all the time. It's not the violence itself that scandalizes him, as he is a highblood and such things are common and outright expected of them, but the depth of mindlessnes behind his fury that terrifies him as he recognizes it as a loss of control. His chosen weapon, bow and arrows, is a monument to his self-control, as we can see by his descendant's struggle with them that it must have not been easy feat to master it.
He is at the core a very repressed person, afraid of what he'd be, without the constant guidance from his ethical beliefs and the hemospectrum, constantly trying to focus his efforts and energy on non-destructive activities and distractions to keep his mind from wasting away into insanity. His skill with mechanisms and robotics are one of such things; though it was barely a hobby before his fall, afterwards he devoted most of his time to develop his skills and his technique at creating new, interesting little trinkets. Unlike his descendant, who builds robots only to destroy them, however, Darkleer is fond of his own creations, often upgrading them with his meager resources.
Centuries in exile have helped, somewhat, to mellow him out. He's calmer than he was, right after his banishment, and he's slowly grown back into himself, though he still remains a serious creature. He finds enjoyment in very few, often small things, and he makes sure not to share them out of a mix of paranoia and shame. He's still bitter about his situation and not at all willing to discuss it with anyone, but he's moved on from constant brooding about it. By now, all that's left for him is wait for death, and he has resigned himself to it.
Coming into CWP will be a shocking experience for him, first of all because it will force him out of his banishment and put him in contact with other people, never mind other trolls. Darkleer is not a terribly social creature by nature, but he is very curious and he will most likely be drawn by the structure of order and inherent symplicity in the caste system in this world. He will probably have some reservations about whether he should or not work towards raising himself to a higher caste, given his hangups as an exile and such, but once he finds a goal to work towards, he will dedicate himself to it. Coming from a society with an enforced breeding program, Darkleer is no stranger to sex by necessesity, though the difference in "why" sex is a necessity will perhaps make for interesting introspection and character development. He's hardly a virgin, of course, but he is also a mountain of repressed kinks and desires that he's buried away and denied because he deemed them inappropriate or unbecoming for one of his station. Among these things is the fact he gets off from being dominated, yet, much like his descendant, his place in the hemospectrum makes it hard to find a "suitable" person to administer said dominance, and the idea of submitting to someone lower than him is appalling - and also secretly very arousing. However, unlike his descendant, his status as an exile and thus completely ouside the social order, gives him a suitable excuse for his "pervertion". There are plenty other things that would get him off, and it would be interesting to see him explore them, along with his issues with his exile and his self-worth, through the caste/sex system in CWP.
Character Powers/Abilities/Skills: The first noteworthy one would be his skill with his chosen weapon, as he's continued to hone his mastery throughout the sweeps, he's an excellent archer whose accuracy has reached ridiculous levels of precision. Also of note are his dormant Void powers; Darkleer is not a player of the Game in this iteration of reality, but he retains, as do the other Ancestors, some inkling of his powers as a player. In his case, he is constantly shrouded in a "void" that makes it impossible to find him through scrying or divination. Though he is not conscious about it, it is somewhat tied to his emotional state and makes it very hard to find him when he doesn't want to be found. He has great skill when it comes to mechanisms and machinery, and he is capable of creating prosthetic limbs on demand, which implies a thorough knowledge of anatomy as well. Finally, aside the usual enhanced durability of all trolls, Darkleer is ungodly strong. Ungodly so. He can jump obscenely high distances and punch holes into solid steel and crumble rock like it's stale bread and break spines with a snap of his fingers. Much like with his descendant, his strength is almost a blessed with suck situation, where it can make everyday activities impossible if he loses control of it.
SAMPLES
First Person Sample:
[TEXT]
}↠ It is a strange thing, to find one's self in a place like this
}↠ Though I do not begrudge their plight, I must question the choice to bring in one such as I
}↠ Then again, I suppose such thoughts must cross the minds of all who step here
}↠ So perhaps, rather than ask those who have brought me here, I should ask those who share my fate
}↠ What have you decided
}↠ And why
Third Person Sample:
For a moment, as he lies on the floor of the hovel - for it is nothing more than a hovel - he wonders if he has finally gone insane. If after centuries of careful, methodical determination, he has lost the war against his own mind. Magical creatures like the ones that nearly killed him or the ones that saved him just to plead for his aid? Even to himself it sounds like the workings of a diseased mind. And yet it happened, did it not? For no matter how long he lays there, waiting for the illusion to melt away, it doesn't end. He does not wake on his workbench, having fallen asleep in the middle of another project. The ceiling remains the same, the strange smell of the place remains the same, the insistent pull in his gut to get up and examine the mirror remains the same.
With extreme apprehension, he seats himself upright, hair rustling as he moves. There is a basket nearby, and he decides to start his exploration there. He's still mostly convinced this is a dream, somehow, but if it will not go away, then he doesn't have much choice but to follow along with its logic. That usually works, in his experience, though given the set up of this particular dream, he will not be surprised if it turns out to be a day terror. The contents of the basket seem innocuous enough, but of course it is the notes that give him a sinking feeling that won't leave him be. Setting aside the basket, Darkleer explores the space he's been giving with something between curiosity and disdain. The disdain has less to do with having such accommodations assigned to someone like him, classless and casteless as he is, and more with being here at all. He isn't fit to be anyone's savior, in any capacity. It seems so ridiculous and nonsensical, surely the result of a feverish mind. He wonders if he's ill and somehow hallucinating the whole thing. He wonders if this is the prelude to the long awaited death.
He gives into the temptation to examine the mirror, after carefully pushing such thoughts away. If this is some kind of dream, it will eventually end. If it is not...
Well, he'll just deal with it.