Curtain Call 1 : The End of the Beginning
My name is Jhin.
I have no last name, yes. It is just Jhin. Names are merely legacies
of who you are considered by your peers, who you are identified with
as family.
But I no longer have family. I no longer wish to be hailed as who I came from.
No, my art is what garners the most glamour for me.
Tell us of your parents.
My parents? They both died as they lived.
She told me to run, to hide, to escape his wrath, while she fought him
back. She was sick, tired, exhausted from living life.
He told me to come back for more, in hopes that his drunken rage would
be sated, and to hope that revenge would finally be his.
Mother.
The only person I remember as someone significant in my life.
Father.
There is nothing left for him but empty rage left within. But despite
this, I thank him for what he'd done.
Father... No, that man was, simply, disgusting. I haven't much memory
of the creature but I remember nothing but pain and suffering from his
hand. Mother, I recall, was a true work of art. She was my source of
inspiration. She guided my hand in art first with a paintbrush and
then with a blade.
Jhin looks away for a moment as if contemplating something important.
Mother was strong, very strong. She did not believe in retreat. She
did not believe in giving up. Strength was her preaching to me.
Strength and grace in all that you do. I take this lesson to heart to
this day.
She was Noxian, if I recall. Yet she chose to abandon the military
upon realizing that they were lead by... Meatheads, if I recall the
term. And then she met father.
The only thing I know of my ever elusive father is that he gave me two
things - existence and purpose.
What purpose, you ask?
That man made me realize who I am.
The sheer joy I'd felt as the blade pierced his chest. The sagging of
his arms as strength faded. The shock amplified by the dribbling of
blood escaping his lips. The gasp for final breath that shuddered in
his breast.
Finally, my mother was avenged.
Never before had I felt such satisfaction. Never before had I
witnessed something so... Beautiful. The burning joy of vengeance
faded, leaving behind a hunger for more. To kill, conquer, destroy,
all the while graceful, powerful, swift and grand.
I developed my form of art, one I so jealously guard as my own.
And so my stage is set. Murder is the only way, I find, to let my soul
become free.
Tell me more about your father.
Why? I have no reason to speak of the man, I've told you all there is
to know of him. The only thing I wonder is, if I am in fact a monster
in the eyes of many, who is responsible - the creator, or the killer?
Jhin laughs.
We all wear our own masks. We all hide behind these pitifully thin
veils that we consider to protect us, that we create to cover our
imperfections. We do so in hopes that, one day, each and everyone of
us can live up to society's jilted standards and become part of the
crowd.
I reject such a disgusting prospect.
I wear my own mask. Not to hide my face - yes, that is useful in
ensuring that my anonymity remains - but because I am no simple
person. No, this mask differentiates me from the rest of these
worthless lives and raises me up, because I see the truth. I am a
prophet of the future of art, of the next generation to realize the
futility of existence. I wear this mask because I am not a human.
I am an artist, first and foremost. I am a performer.
Jhin smiles behind his mask, his long legs swinging as he moved to
stand. The artist offered a bow to the interviewer before turning to
leave, each step silent with practiced grace.
Beauty in death - Jhin speech.
I am he who stands between the bridge of life and art. - narration
Thanks for reading this tiny little intro of Jhin! The story really kicks off after this... I hope. This is merely here for introduction purposes. Hope you guys enjoyed. Favorite follow and review for more crap.
Also, pairings will be considered if desired. And targets for murder - either other champs or random people you guys come up with are cool!