app for concordance

[cruentatafoedus]

 

name; Korik
contact; Skype: iceyarticuno ; Plurk: (same)
other characters played;  not applicable

character;  Vayne Carudas Solidor
series; FFXII
point in canon; After death
age;  27 (September 6th OV)
zodiac sign; Virgo
job; Master Monk
special abilities; Kick (AoE attack); Lunge; Force of Will; Mach Wave

history;The usual wiki article
previous game history; Not Available
personality; Vayne is...complicated.

Truth be told, it may seem easier to discredit, ignore, or shove Vayne aside as just another Final Fantasy villain out to either cause useless war, rule the world, or blow it up and start anew, but the truth is, as I said, more intricate and worth the time.

On the surface, Vayne is a brilliant actor, charming, witty, educated, and formal in both mannerisms and speech. There are times where he comes off as cold, cruel, sadistic, prodding just to prod, and yet...there is nearly always a method to his madness, calculating angles to be won, wars to be set aside, battles to be sprung. It can make for moments where he simply unwinds or resolves to relax, let his past catch up with him, unnerving.

Underneath the surface lies a man who, perhaps, has grown to care too much about the status of the world, that his honor, his family, and his country are more important than his own personal comforts, and the comforts of anyone else who would seek to impede his goals. Thus, with a belt laden in manipulation and good intentions (as it goes on the road to Hell..), he sets out to do the unthinkable. Wrest power from Occurian influence, save what little glory remains of his homeland and family, and, perhaps, keep the world from eating itself with war. Indeed, it is easy to say for me that Vayne, out of so many, wants peace and order the most.

The man did not come to this conclusion on his own, growing up as the third spare heir of House Solidor, an unmatched political and military force in the last 200 years of the Archadian Empire. I say spare because, indeed, Archadia boasts a Senate, and its leaders are democratically elected, though if House Solidor has ruled with an unchallenged fist for 200 years, it can be easily implied they have skewed any and all results. It is not the firstborn sons (as Archadia is also patriarchal) who rule without question, it is the strongest, the ones who are chosen out of their brethren by the Emperor and endorsed by the Senate that will become Emperor. And from Vayne's earliest memories he recalls an Empire embroiled in war. At age 8, his father, the Lord Emperor Gramis decimates the Republic of Landis. So much so that, in the course of the game, there is not even a mark upon the map to declare its desecrated remains. At age 17 he is told to murder his older brothers, Gramis and the Senate citing traitorous movements in them both, though, indeed, in later years Gramis laments this action – and sees it as an inevitable end for his sons now, that his sons will once again war. He goes through with the killing, and I am not one to believe he went without being scarred.

Having been sufficiently broken by his experiences, looking towards a future where he must put aside what emotion and urges he has for self satisfaction, his brother Larsa, in game, sums up the rest of his actions in a emphatic aside to Penelo - "The men of my family, we are taught to place the needs of others before those of our own. I will see that you are kept from harm. It is my duty to House Solidor."

As you can imagine, with a dark sense of humor, he knows that House Solidor, that the world itself cannot endure as it is. That more like Landis and Dalmasca will become trapped and destroyed, forgotten by the wayside, that the death of his father, the deaths of some will be better for the good of all – including himself. He looks to his younger brother to satisfy these demands, seeing in him a potential for greatness and strength that the world will need - “ - he will need much in the Hell to follow.”

All in all, Vayne has been raised to be a ruler, and with it comes the morality of kings. What then, you may ask, is the morality of kings? The morality of kings throughout history has been boiled down to, as a ruler, you must make choices that will benefit all, detaching personal desires and whimsy to see that your people, your Kingdom, your Empire, continues on, and many times regardless of the consequences or the means by which this must be obtained. The ends justify the means.

Something worth mentioning is Vayne's chosen method of combat – he does not use magicks, nor even a sword, particularly when the Archadian Thing To Do is, canonically, dual wield weapons. The style itself is completely impractical, and many real world masters of martial arts have stated it is so, but that if it could be used, it would be for so much more devastation. This lends itself to the idea that Archadia is an unrelenting force to be reckoned with, and, really, to its own detriment. What Vayne does use, however, is his fists and body. Nothing in his path is spared, not even himself.


first person sample;

It is four and thirty longer than I would have let any man hang himself in silence, but it is four and thirty because he must learn to wait. What hours have beseeched me I have given, pray, there is a time when I hope it is enough and yet – ha. Scarce can one believe such a sight? Long and flowing, whimsical and disheartening for in its boughs does spring forth images of a better time.

No. No.

Now is not the time for petty regret or remorse when the matter is still yet at hand. The figure that is cut is unaware as I am, gnawing upon the pit that worries us all whom look to death and laugh. A joke, 'tis true, but saccharine with despair, laden with the iron that bends despite appearances. 

There is a fish who does find the waters do choke him, so to land he goes only to drown in the blood of his bones.

third person sample;
It hasn't been a dog's age, but he is tired, steps too heavy to warrant this kind of moving. It may not be the best of places, the worst of places, but rather some eerie place inbetween where for a second, a space between breathing he can close his eyes, lean just up against this bit of wood attached to a frame and a sill and –  

The sound that rolls out of his mouth is almost disgust, but he restrains it for a pinched sigh, fingertips roving, always roving, brushing across the expanse of the grimoire that haunts him, keeping track of words half mumbled, strange conversations he has listened in on without really hearing – the damn thing was worse than Venat had ever been, and it bares his name like a wolf in the Paramina Rift bares its teeth when backed into a corner. You will not be rid of me, it promises, and I will know all that you know and do not wish to be known - 

Vayne resists crossing to the fire where the nu mou sit and whisper to each other with their ivory tones and tossing it in, chiding himself for the voice he has given it in his mind. For now it pretends to be a tool, for now it serves a purpose and he cannot lose it in the dust nor burn nor make any substantial mark upon its surface. How much easier would this be if he could simply press upon it the urgency of knowledge, of knowing – but even then would it seek to tell him the truth or spin a tale worthy of a sky pirate?