Constructing a Mythos

For a number of years now, a story--perhaps a world with a number of stories in it--has been bouncing around in my head. Characters have been designed, re-designed and analysed, other elements have been reshaped to make more internal sense. Of course, the problem is, I never set anything to paper, because both my drawing and creative writing skills are pretty cruddy. But since I have all this virtual paper to write with, why not follow the example of Rutskarn and use this blog for the purposes of world creation? So, expect random ramblings on completely fictional passing parades now, under the tag "Complete Fiction".

"The world" is rather close to the present, only with time advanced to 2045. Science and engineering have made remarkable advances, and, while inequalities still exist, quality of life has improved across the board, at least partially. The primary political powers in this world are the Global Union (G.U.), essentially the bastard offspring of today's United Nations and European Union, and the Nations Against Totalitarian Oligarchism (NATO 2), which opposes the G.U. The United States and a number of its allies, like Britain, Japan, Iraq, India, Canada, Australia, Ethiopia, and a few others, belong in the latter category.

The "viewpoint character" (or at least one of them) is living on Kadena AFB, Okinawa, currently joint Japanese Self-Defense Force/United States Air Force following a bilateral agreement between the U.S. and Japan. He's Captain Davin Valkri, USAF, 18th Wing, 44th Fighter Squadron (Vampires). Yes, that name sounds familiar, but I've been pretty adamant about using that name for that character since before I got involved on most of the internet. Physically, he doesn't look all that imposing--sure he's tall, around 6'7" (200 cm), but he's also really skinny and doesn't have much muscular build, with stupidly pale skin and a somewhat boyish, borderline-effeminate jawline, even though he's twenty-nine years old. And since his clothing choices tend towards the somewhat androgynous, like USAF flight suits on duty and build-concealing long sleeves, thin jackets and long pants with the legs stuffed down his high-ankled shoes off duty (no matter the temperature), he doesn't really look like much of a threat.

And that's too bad for whoever opposes him, because not only does he carry a combat knife and a .45 pistol in his civilian clothing (with another .45 and knife in the flight suit), he's also very avid at unarmed or improvisational combat. He won't hesitate to take any opportunity in a fight, including using his handgun, and attacks with speed and ferocity reminicient of a jet-fighter dogfight. He's also really annoyed that no matter what he tries, he always looks like a wimpy pushover, since it draws him into fights. Sure he usually WINS said fights, but he remembers his Sun Tzu and would like to see his opponents surrender without a fight, and he figures the best way to do that is to put on an imposing image. He also likes to intimidate people, and taunt those he considers idiots (or defeated opponents, but since he's very much a combat pragmatist, he only does this if the man opposing him will not get up).

He's very well read, wolfing down books on Japanese history, military history and strategy, current affairs, and historical tragedies like the Holocaust and the Gulag system. This has, combined with a somewhat turbulent family history (thanks to events in 2025, he's pretty much the only member of his family line left), given him a somewhat morose and cynical outlook on human nature. He's extremely distrustful of almost everybody, the only exceptions being people close to him in the Air Force. Davin's not much of a fan of rhetoric, either, as most of the speech makers of his time love to appeal to pathos (emotion), and he invariably picks it up as bathos (failed attempts to evoke sympathy).

Both in the air and on the ground, Davin fights like he believes a jet-dogfighter should--with lots and lots of speed and fast attacks. To borrow from TV Tropes, he's something of a fragile speedster, in that he'll be disabled, or even killed, if you can land one or two good solid hits on his midsection, but he refuses to let you, sending your fists to hit empty air while he nails you in the windpipe and solar plexus. Give him the opportunity, and he WILL hit you there. Possibly with his knife.