Jophiel Clark - Lost son of Amber
Height: 5’7”, weight: 160 lbs., hair: black, eyes; brown
Passion: To think beautiful thoughts and to therefore create, manifest, and attract more beauty into all lives
Clothing colors/Style: Modern Earth designer business attire for most occasions, suits and ties. Modern shirt and slacks are his every day wear. His personal colors are black with purple etchings or highlights.
Personal Symbol: Stylized black Hound on white background.
He is quick of wit and very well mannered. Having spent his life out of Amber he has no real understanding what it means to be of Amber or what it means to have REAL peers. For the longest time, no one could compete with him. Everything came easy, so in order to get any real sense of competition, he had to compete with himself. He is far more a follower than a leader, preferring to be left alone with his thoughts and next adrenaline rush. He is probably the second most charming being in all of reality. There is not a violent bone in his body. Jophy is a lover not a fighter. It’s not that he is a coward, he just does not see how violence solves anything.
He is not quite bohemian, but he understands and appreciates that philosophy. He is a very gifted artist. He spends enormous amounts of time traveling Shadow looking for the next vista to paint or the next place to snowboard, free climb, wing suit, hi-lo jump, cliff dive or whatever is on his mind.
In his home shadow he has a room dedicated to some of his best vistas. Currently the number is 37, ranging from verdant covered mountains with sparkly fresh snows, to beautiful and exotic beach front locations with 30 foot tidal swells. One of the images leads a mountainous vista, which will pull the viewer 21,000 feet above sea level. Ability to fly or a parachute is needed to not die a horrible death. Another picture takes the viewer to an island paradise.
He is easy going and totally not interested in the trappings of authority or responsibility at any level. If he makes a promise he keeps it, but seldom promises anything. He is a sucker for green eyed women.
He is never far from a musical instrument, probably because he can conjure one up at will. He has an exquisitely, fabulous tenor voice.
This young son of Amber has spent his entire life off in shadow. He was born to loving parents, Oscar a hat maker and Martha a cartographer and calligrapher. He expects he got all of his creative talents from the both of them. He is the elder of two children by two years. Shashanna, his younger sister and he are very close. As he grew up, he noticed that many of his closer friends held some resentment for his talents. So, he learned to keep them at arms-length. Shashanna became his only true confident.
As amazing as it sounds, by keeping the appearance of aloofness, he lost a few friends but gained a following. People cannot seem to get enough of trouble genius. From his early childhood he found he was especially talented in all things creative. Music, Artistry, Mathematics, these things came to him as easily as breathing. And just as a child using building blocks to create words so did the universe open up for him to create things of exhilarating beauty. He published whole books of poetry that moved an entire world. His musical compositions became the standard for a revitalization of the industry. His artwork brought an entire generation to seek more out of life. By the time he was 18 his accolades and his renown could not be easily counted.
By thirty, he became a billionaire recluse. He had fame, wealth and prestige. Women wanted him and men wanted to be him. He limited his personal appearances to three or four times a year. While in his earlier years, he release three or four works a month, he only released two or three a year. When he did, the entire world would take notice and sing his accolades even more. All of that changed one violent night when he was 36.
He mother was murdered violently in his parents’ home. The only suspect ever looked at was his father. But his mind was too far gone to even make sense as to what happened. So he was found criminally insane and sentenced to 99 years in isolation. This left him and his sister shattered emotionally. The police never found a motive, but the ramblings of mentally shattered man who spoke of patterns, unicorns and other odd things. His mother’s blood had been laid in an odd pattern and his father covered in her blood was all the evidence provided.
For the next ten years, came a dark period for Jophy. He spent hours, days, and weeks sometimes recreating the image of his mother’s death in prose, song, oils and stone. His very mood seems to have a very strong impact on the world around him. It was almost as if the entire world mourned with him. Over time it came too much for even his die hard fans and they turned their back on him.
Things made a slight change one night when a fire broke out in his house while he slept. He was wakened by the blaring sound of his fire detector. When he tried to escape the smoke and flames it was too late, the star case was all ablaze. All he could do is jump from the third story window to safety. It was during those seconds from making the decision to jump to when he landed; he realized how dead he had been. The exhilaration and the rush of the moment brought him back to life. Whooped and hollered for minutes and his house burned and he never felt so good.
Jophy returned to the land of the living and became an adrenalin junking. All manner of extreme sports where open to him and he indulged. Never in his life had he experienced such RAW emotions and spirit of competition. Not competition against others but rather against himself. Free climbing, wing suiting, cliff diving, snowboarding these things became his new muse and the world once again rejoiced in his works.
It was during this time, he noticed rather abruptly how special he really was. He was off in the wilderness after free falling in his wing suit from 21,000 feet he found himself staring at the most beautiful of scenes. When he landed his wished that he had brought his art supplies so that he could capture the sunset while it was still fresh in his mind, suddenly a paint brush appeared in his hands. His astonishment lasted just a little bit and he tried for an easel, then paints and finally a finished canvas.
He spent six months up in those mountains mastering his newly found talent as well as the painting. Those mountains became an inspiration to him. He purchased the land and decided to paint the free fall as well. When he finished that painting he sat and admired it. It was in his opinion the best painting of his entire life. It was so lifelike. As if you could put your hand through it and sure enough, he was free falling from 21,000 feet. A normal man would have panicked, but not Jophy. He was exhilarated. Jumping without gear was near to flying a man could get. But quickly his mind told him it was not true. Luckily he had been practicing for months on conjuration and he made an oxygen tank and gear.
Jophy was so happy for the first time he could not express it. He purchased the land twenty miles around and threw himself into studying his new found powers. The only time he left his mountain was to see his sister or to check about his vast holdings. Time passes as time does. He is currently 140 and his father is due to be released. He and his sister a decided a long time ago, that they love their father and want him to know they love him. The past is too far ago to matter