CHARACTER BIO JACE

CHARACTER BIO: JACE

_AGE_

fifty-one

_GENDER_

male

_RACE_

dökkálfar, Dark Elven

_FAMILY_RELATIONS_

father - Dagr, dökkálfar

mother - Nanna, mortal

brother - Horsa, mortal

_DEMEANOR_

deadly

~ ~ ~

Mortals know little of Dökkálfar, the Dark Elves. Zelda, Legolas, and Keebler cookies are as far as they got with even their greatest scholars and historians. The briefest, most accurate description of our kind is in Beowulf, the ancient document now translated into common English by Seamus Heaney.

[Grendel] had dwelt for a time

in misery among the banished monsters,

Cain's clan, whom the Creator had outlawed

and condemned as outcasts. For the killing of Abel

the Eternal Lord had exacted a price:

Cain got no good from committing that murder

because the Almighty made him anathema

and out of the curse of his exile there sprang

ogres and ELVES and evil phantoms.

I am anathema.

God's cursed.

Mortals know little of Dökkálfar, the Dark Elves, because if they knew more, they would know no peace. Solomon the Wise said it himself in the eighteenth line of the first book in Ecclesiastes.

For in much wisdom is much vexation,

and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.

My own existence causes me sorrow. Introspection is a deadly game. Every mirror I have ever looked into, I've shattered in uncontrolled anger because what I see -- beauty, masculinity, pure darkness -- never matches my heart. Am I truly beast? Must I be treated as monster? Because of my race's darkness, am I forever anathema, no matter how much I try to be better?

Yes.

Why should stupid questions be asked?

Fate is untouchable.

My fate is to be a snake in this unforgiving universe, even though I once fought to prove otherwise, I am now entirely devoid of hope that I can change.

Fifty-one years is still young for our race. To speak in mortal terms, every one of their years is a third of ours, so I appear seventeen years -- young, handsome, and inane -- to humans. With my mother being mortal, I cannot say that adolescent, human hormones have no affect on my ideals, but, until that is proven as fact, I will cleave to my truths until I have no strength.

Yes, I begged once for love; I begged for days, hoping to receive life; I begged to be human.

But I am not, and they will not accept me, and, thus, my truths were formed:

If I am God-cursed and if others see no good in me, then I will make them see their own evil.

So come, agony.

Come, murder.

Come and show them their own curses.

What will it take to show them they are no different than I? How many mothers must have their babies destroyed before their eyes? How many shrieks must end the silence of warless eras? How many? Now fully alone, I shall begin another sweeping path of destruction on a new island, and whosoever decides to aid me shall not go unrewarded and whosoever decides to resist reality will wake to a hard landing.

The Apostle Paul spoke truly when he said:

The wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all men. Although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to Him, and, for this reason, God gave them up, and they did not see fit to acknowledge God.

As it is written:

“None is righteous, no, not one.

No one understands,

no one seeks for God.

All have turned aside. Together, they have become worthless;

no one does good,

not even one.”

The end goal is worth the sacrifice.