JACQUES ELIO CORVANÉ
AKA "Jack"
"How far from grace can one man fall? Let's find out."
Name: Jack "Elio" Corvané
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 173 lbs
Birthdate: Searing 86, Year 4596
Birthplace: Railón, The Southern Marches (Daravin)
Location: The Imperial Badlands
Raw Magic:
Remnant (Apprentice)
Mentalism (Apprentice)
Profession:
Mercenary
Titles:
N/A
Factions:
Scythe
Enemies: The Bloodbreakers, The Iron Moon
Religion:
N/A
Partners: N/A
Sexuality: Homosexual
Languages:
Fluent: Raillen, Common
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 173 lbs
Birthdate: Searing 86, Year 4596
Birthplace: Railón, The Southern Marches (Daravin)
Location: The Imperial Badlands
Raw Magic:
Remnant (Apprentice)
Mentalism (Apprentice)
Profession:
Mercenary
Titles:
N/A
Factions:
Scythe
Enemies: The Bloodbreakers, The Iron Moon
Religion:
N/A
Partners: N/A
Sexuality: Homosexual
Languages:
Fluent: Raillen, Common
DETAILS
.
Jack is a man of above average height, with deep tan skin, medium brown hair and rich hazel-colored eyes, which sometimes glow faintly through as his Neurocrux radiates iridescently from within. He has a well-balanced, athletic build, somewhere in-between that of a runner and a fighter, his physique toned in a way that appears to be designed for agility, flexibility and endurance. His features are regarded by most as handsome; he has a well-shaped jaw, typically has light stubble, with somewhat soft features that he tries to make appear more imposing by displaying a performative gruff. Jack dresses better than most in the Badlands, but still poorly. He typically wears a Badlander-jacket of some kind over a fairly open shirt, often a simple white linen. His demeanor always appears to seek an imposing nature, but once the Raider's guard is down, he reveals himself to be an evidently open man.
Marks of Control
Mark of Remnant
Jack's Mark of Remnant appears as a constellation, placed on his scalp and therefore typically unavailable to view unless his head is shaven.
Mark of Mentalism
Jack's Mark of Mentalism is a Rorschach image, shaped like a mantis emerging from a diamond, or an eye, surrounded by pillars of flame. At least, according to him. It's located on the back of his neck.
Mark of Remnant
Jack's Mark of Remnant appears as a constellation, placed on his scalp and therefore typically unavailable to view unless his head is shaven.
Mark of Mentalism
Jack's Mark of Mentalism is a Rorschach image, shaped like a mantis emerging from a diamond, or an eye, surrounded by pillars of flame. At least, according to him. It's located on the back of his neck.
MENTALITY
Likes: Freedom, The Open Road, Discovery
Dislikes: Oppression, Greed
Merits: Deep Thinker, Passionate, Honest
Flaws: Wayward, Violent, Rash
Personality
Jack is an often harsh, blunt and foul-mouthed man, one who exudes ‘street smarts’ as much as he does a few, positive traits: honesty, integrity, reliability. He’s a damn good friend, but he’s also damn brutal to the people who mess with him - or the people he really doesn’t like. Mostly, though, he tends to come off friendly and witty, even if his words are often saturated with stupid lingo and with the accent of a man who grew up outside of a sewage shaft in the shadier edges of Shitport.
Jack is an often harsh, blunt and foul-mouthed man, one who exudes ‘street smarts’ as much as he does a few, positive traits: honesty, integrity, reliability. He’s a damn good friend, but he’s also damn brutal to the people who mess with him - or the people he really doesn’t like. Mostly, though, he tends to come off friendly and witty, even if his words are often saturated with stupid lingo and with the accent of a man who grew up outside of a sewage shaft in the shadier edges of Shitport.
HISTORY
Ah, the life of sublime luxury. That was how it always was for Jack -- yeah, even back then. He didn't have his trusty Chariot, but he had a mother who wore a corset beneath her dress, a father whose mind hadn't yet been addled by Mageblight and even a dog who occasionally pissed in his bed.
Things weren't always so good. He could remember, even now, the beatings. The envenomed words, 'mother' and 'father' regretting ever becoming just that. The screaming until his little head spun. How much chaos could be sown by two people in free-fall? They unraveled time and again, yet with intensity would they collide. What a relief, then, when Jack's old man started spasming, frothing at the mouth, his throat heaving blood. It was a chance for the lady of the house to fulfill her long-lost dreams, escaping the life assigned to her from birth.
Lady Corvané hauled young Jacques and his father to the edge of the Badlands, speaking all throughout of a 'cure', a miracle in waiting that the man lapped up like a dog. The things the Badlanders had learned, to resist and survive Unbroken corruption -- she spoke of all the stories she'd heard. A way to not only soak away Lord Corvané's Mageblight, but to ameliorate all of the plentiful difficulties he'd acquired along the way. Her words were more than promising to the dying mage, whose mind became so subdued that he forgot for a time how deeply he loathed her. And when they arrived at their first settlement in the Badlands, she disappeared in the night and left both husband and son to rot in the desert.
But they survived. Batty as he was, old man Corvané still had some kick in him. He was a powerful mage, after all -- enough to rise above his siblings in the plentiful competitions that raged among the Veir, and forge his right to inheritance. He killed. Jack watched him, every time. With his mind, he warped space, crushing lesser men and pulling them limb from limb. He reminded the young man of what the Entente around him would always say; they were the agents of a true, greater God, everyone around them meek and malleable. He felt that as he watched Pablo Corvané, his father, cull the supposedly 'tough' Badlanders of Daravin's ass-end.
He aspired to be like him, at first. He became a Mentalist, then a Remnomancer, his father initiating him in the spirit of tradition. Like Veir, like Veir-son. Young Jacques would, after all, one day take the mantle from him. He needed to be ready.
Along the way, they got into all sorts of wild, outside things. They joined a cult for years, known as the Black Hammer. They drank Wurmblood as psychedelics, the young boy's eyes widening as the substance made him see stars in grains of sand. He had an uncanny life.
When Mageblight eventually claimed his father, he left all of the madness behind. He joined a gang -- a smaller one than the typical four that ran the show, but one he felt himself aligning with more. 'Scythe'. A group meant to restore the Badlands to their old glory; to make them a unified, independent state. Scythe manufactured weapons, sold guns and even the occasional golem, and Jack began to serve as an 'operations distributor' before eventually becoming an enforcer of their intelligence wing. Got some cred, and eventually... Scythe became a part of him as much as he was a part of it.
Only one thing could have ever pulled him from that life, content as he was to linger in the Badlands and their endless dunes. Fear. Fear brought him to look towards home, as a painful anomaly stirred up in his mind: the incursion of a new disease, an aspect of the Madness that grows within his skull like a cancer. In the face of that prospect, and looming towards death... the young man finds his way back to the pastures of his old home.
