Nickname: Lord of Jests, The Laughing Duke
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Height: 6'1"
Race: Human
Class Courtier
Skills: Jorah is masterful with a blade, any blade, he favors knives and short weapons but a long rapier is a common weapon to find in his bloody hands. The Duke is also a brilliant, yet maniacal strategist. Able to devise horrifying and deadly means in which to deal with his foes. He also has an uncanny skill to pick up on subtle weaknesses in others psyches and push them into breaking should he so choose.
Weakness(es): While Jorah is a skilled killer he is not and has never been a true warrior. He does not wade into battle and does not ever intend to do so. His skill with blood letting is of a more, intimate nature. As such most skilled warriors trained in the arts of combat could best him in single combat.
Equipment: An assortment of knives, often a straight razor and occasionally a rapier.
Personal Quote: "Whatever doesn't kill you simply makes you, stranger."
Description:
The Duke Jorah Kuhr is a handsome man. Charming and captivating yet with an underlying instability to him. To look upon the Laughing Duke is likened to looking at a Stag that is proud and beautiful yet his horns, that magnificent crown of beasts is a thicket of gnarled thorns dripping with venom and blood. His facial featured are chiseled and well defined, sharp even. His hair is is night black and often kept brushed back neatly. Jorah's body is lean with well defined muscle, he is in no way bulky but his strength is more akin to a coiled spring. His two most captivating features are his eyes and his mouth. To look into The Duke's eyes are the first hint of the monster within him. Those tiny black pearls, razor sharp and piercing they seem to peer right into your heart and mind. One look and you feel as if he can lay your darkest fears and desires to bear before him. He knows you and that terrifies you right to the bone. To have this handsome man who seems so charming and intriguing have eyes that unnerve so is unsettling. Then there is his mouth, rather unremarkable as mouths go but it is his smile that draws the attention of others. His grin is one of wickedness and cruelty. Even when shown to be pleasant or polite his smile chills. It is the smile of a man who revels in violence and chaos. The combination of his sanguine grin and mad stare lend wing to the fear within that this man is no mere man, that this man is a wicked creature who sees your weakness and his laughter will be the anthem of your doom as your blood stains the floor.
Personality: Outwardly The Laughing Duke is charming, carefree, flirtatious and full of jovial good nature. He has a way that he moves through a room, a cool grin on his face, appearing where the action is with a quick joke and a laugh. The life of the party some say, always one for a good time he seems to thoroughly enjoy the happiness of others as they indulge themselves on wine, good food and pleasures of the flesh. It is not until you are alone with him that your smile fades as his widens. His gaze, that was at once unnerving yet captivating is now terrifying and wild. His smile that was once subtle yet mischievous is now a wicked grin of cruelty. He speaks and those words that once drew you in now disgust and horrify you. His madness is on full display, a monstrous sociopath in the position of power and authority. His cruelty, savagery and sadistic sociopathic personality now leaps fourth like a beast hidden in the fog. To take those who believe themselves safe via the ordered structure of the court or the laws of the king and to show them just how fragile that system is puts a gleeful grin on the Dukes face. Jorah thoroughly enjoys seeking out those of weak or fragile mind and breaking them completely. He loves it, possibly the only thing he does love is watching people as their minds snap from the strain he forces them to endure.
History: Born as the second child to the wealthy and influential Kuhr family he spent most of his youth wilting in the shadow of his older brother. He and his brother were polar opposites. Jorah's brother was solem, brooding and serious. A warrior, thick with muscle from years of dedicated training under strict and harsh conditions he was always the favored. Pushed to greatness by their parents Jorah was the inconvenient mistake. The matriarch and patriarch of the Kuhr family never intended to have a second child, a fact they made sure they let Jorah know every chance they got. As he grew he was constantly reminded of how unwanted he was, how weak he was and how much he was not like his big brother. Jorah, like most young people in similar circumstances, responded by rebelling. He became a wild drunk, an avid drug user and a womanizer. He often was found in his parents bed with several whores that he brought form the slums. His family usually responded by viciously beating by whip or rod. This horrible abuse both physical and abuse only pushed Jorah further away from what his family considered normal behavior. When he reached his mid to late teens he began projecting his torment on others. It began with animals, the family dog, falcon and several horses mysteriously vanished and were found horribly butchered. Once again it was discovered that Jorah was at the heart of these disappearances. It was on this morning that Jorah changed forever. His parents took to beating him as they often did, his father with the scabbard of a sword, his mother at his side berating him with insults and cursing the gods that she never rid herself of the pregnancy. The beating reached a fever pitch and Jorah's blood was dripping to the floor and suddenly something snapped in Jorah. With a wild, mad screech he leapt up from the fetal position he had been in and lunges at his father. In shock his father was thrown back and suddenly blood spurt from his mouth. Jorah had ripped the dagger from his fathers belt and plunged it into his gut. Again and again he stabbed him screaming and weeping as his fathers blood soaked his hands. His mothers horrified scream turned his attention from his father to his mother who he then leapt at. He tackled his mother in a wild fit of rage from the years of abuse. Blade in hand he buried the blade in her throat. Her gurgled moan was the last he ever would hear from his cruel parents. Jorah sat there now, on his knees, his parents lifeless bodies laying around him. His hands dripping with their blood he stared at the ghastly sight. His mind struggled to process the flood of emotions he was experiencing. Horror, joy, fear, exhalation, regret, freedom. His hand went to his mouth as if to muffle a pain filled scream as tears trickled down his cheeks. The hand that touched his face was wet with the blood of his mother and father and his sobs slowly began to twist. What was once sorrowful weeping shifted into mad laughter. He removed his hand to reveal a crimson grin as the blood smeared across his face giving him the eerie resemblance of a jester, a clown painted in blood. Jorah was never the same again. He was now a mad man who played the part of a sane man. The murder was thought to be a some horrible accident, his father supposedly stabbed his mother only before being stabbed by her with his own dagger. Jorah attended the funeral and cried with the others, all the while laughing inside. He stood beside his brother, oddly he no longer embarrassed the family as he once had. The drugs and drinking stopped, the whoring was over he was now a boon to the family name. Someone who made them look good to the other families. So good in fact that he secured a marriage for his brother. A marriage to the soon to be Duchess of Pearly. Yet his brother was fated to never enjoy the marriage. The moment Jorah met Harleann he knew she was not for his brother to keep, no she would be his. His alone to play with he loved the fragility of her mind and fantasized about snapping her weak psyche. An act he reveled in the night he butchered his brother in his bed chamber with Harleann watching. When it was done and his brother lay at his feet Jorah looked up and saw the most beautiful sight, Harleann laughing as her husband lay dead on the floor. The two have been inseparable ever since. As Duke and Duchess they are in the rare position of power to have a limitless access men and women who they force to play their mad games filled with blood and laughter. They hide their horrible deeds, none know of the truth of their wicked, mad ways. The mad couple enjoy every moment of the pain they force others to endure, laughing as they butcher. After all you can't spell slaughter without laughter...
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