IMPEDIO SOCIETY . LENHOFF, KONSTANTIN

MALE

HOMOSEXUAL

TWENTY-TWO

JANUARY 7, 1985

GERMAN

SPEAKS, WRITES, AND READS BOTH GERMAN AND ENGLISH WITH EQUAL FLUENCY, ALTHOUGH HE DOES EXHIBIT A SLIGHT PREFERENCE FOR GERMAN.

KON, KONNIE, STAN

0.75
(+0.25)

Impedio Society

None

Canticum Venator

9/10/2013 by Jess

SYLPH

RHIANNON CHOU
GABRIEL KINGSTON
BAILEY WHELAN

NO, THANK YOU THOUGH

JEAN KIRSTEIN FROM SHINGEKI NO KYOJIN

A Patrician within the Impedio Society, Konstantin works to earn his keep within their ranks as an Artifact Hunter. His occupation has taken him all over the world, not to mention places that most people would never even dream it possible to set foot in. However, as part of his job description, he also spends just as much time breaking into museums as he does exploring exotic locales. Due to the nature of his job, he can't really risk taking on a day job -- do you really expect him to explain to his hypothetical boss why he has to take time of work for weeks at a time with close to no prior notice? He lives in a small but posh one-bedroom apartment that is decorated and furnished to look sleek and modern, completely funded by the Impedio Society and located in fairly safe and nice part of Los Angeles. Still, as nice as his housing situation in Los Angeles may be, it is nothing compared to living in his family's sprawling mansion on their estate back in Munich, Germany. Indeed, Konstantin comes from an upper class family that is the result of both old money and highly successful business ventures of his ancestors.

For all intents and purposes, Konstantin supposes that he could be considered fairly fortunate in the looks department. Not that he has all that much time to worry about his any of that -- it isn't like looking impeccably put together is going to make his job any easier. No, if anything, Konstantin's appearance is based solely on functionality and practicality, and he doesn't see that changing any time soon in the foreseeable future. His hair is best described as being a dark, ashen sort of blonde in color, and part of the back and sides have been sheared off sometime ago. For whatever reason, when the hair grows back in around those areas, it's a fair bit darker than the rest of his hair -- Konstantin suspects that it is because the the hair hasn't been exposed to sun as much or something like that, but like hell if he knows. It matters about as much to him as the fact that his eyes are amber in color -- in short, it doesn't mean very much to him at all. (Somebody once lamented that it was a shame his looks were only going to go to waste.)

Konstantin stands at 5'10" in height, which is neither too terribly impressive or too horribly disappointing. Solidly average is what Konstantin considers his height to be, though he more than makes up for that in the way he is built. Years of training have resulted in him his frame being constructed and filled out entirely by lean, toned muscle -- there is nothing about Konstantin that would even imply the idea of being out of shape. It is, after all, of the most absolute of necessity for him to keep himself in tip-top condition, or at least as close to it as he possibly can. There is no way that he would be able to survive in his line of work if he didn't, and even then, Konstantin does not remain unscathed. He has his fair share of various scars and marks of all shapes and sizes scattered across his golden-beige skin and all over the planes of his body. Multiple ones crisscrossing down his back, all along his legs, that one long jagged one that cuts diagonally across the right side of his collarbone down to the bottom of the left side of his rib cage, the small nick across his right cheekbone that never did heal quite right -- and that's only a fraction there. You could say that scars are a bit of an occupational hazard.

The same philosophy that pertains to his physicality also extends to his personal aesthetic when it comes to how he dresses himself. Konstantin's entire wardrobe consists of clothes that are simple, functional, and properly able to serve their purpose -- he does make a point of separating his nicer clothes from his not as nice clothes. The latter is what he tends to wear when he is on the job, seeing as how those clothes often tend to get torn, ripped, or otherwise damaged beyond all reasonable repair by the time his task is done. On the other hand, the latter is reserved for when he is masquerading among civilians and blending into ordinary society. Button-down shirts with the sleeves rolled back, tastefully fitted pants, semi-formal shoes, and occasionally a tailored vest worn unbuttoned on days when he feels a little dressier are what most people will see him in on most days, as very few will ever see Konstantin while he isn't trying to pass himself off as any other regular passerby on the street. While he doesn't exactly mean to do so, the man does have a tendency to gravitate towards either black and white or neutral colors.

When you are born into a family that stresses the importance of things such as legacy and heritage, you grow up to have a certain sense of obligation and commitment to whatever such things would entail. It was one of the first things Konstantin learned by heart, really -- if you were given a burden of responsibility to shoulder, then you were to see it through, and see it through well. Duty and dedication is something that was drilled into Konstantin ever since the first day he was able to both walk steadily and speak comprehensibly, and as a result of such an upbringing, he has been known to keep his promises and oaths in high regard. Very rarely does Konstantin not keep his word, and if he does, he is likely to inform whoever he had sworn it to that he will unfortunately not be able to fulfill whatever it was that he had said he would do. After all, making excuses or trying to escape rightful blame was something that was not tolerated in the household that he grew up in, and it certainly left a lasting and unfading impression upon his person.

But perhaps the impression that was left upon him was just a little too strong in the long run -- Konstantin tends to keep his personal thoughts and opinions on things and matters to himself. This is especially true in the face of those who are in positions of authority above him -- that was how it was in his household, and and the importance of respect is something that has practically been ingrained into him over the years. Respect, however, does not mean that he is bending down to kiss someone's ass. There is, after all, a fairly considerable difference between giving acknowledgement where it is rightfully due and being mindless yes man who worships the ground someone walks on. Even if Konstantin is not one to readily and openly give out his two cents on things, it does not in any way indicate a lack of self-respect -- that is something that he has a fair amount of, even if it is not immediately apparent. No, he chooses to hold his tongue, because it seems like the wiser, more prudent thing to do. For better or for worse, it would seem that Konstantin has not inherited either his grandfather or father's borderline overbearing sense of pride.

He wonders about that, actually, but then again, Konstantin wonders about a lot of things. What if, what can, what will, what could, what should, what would -- he is the sort to mull over those sorts of things, after all, and if left alone with time to spare, he can spend quite a long time simply having this sort of internal dialogue with himself. Konstantin is indeed a rather contemplative individual by nature, something that is possibly the result of not speaking often about whatever may or may not be on his mind. There does tend to be a lot on his mind in general on any given day though -- he is, after all, a man struggling to find out what his own values truly are. (It's a classic sort of struggle, really, when what you have come to believe and what you were brought up to believe start to clash in your head.) It's almost as if a private war is constantly being waged in his mind, and without an efficient outlet for his thoughts, the only thing left that he can really do about it is to allow himself to ruminate over them until he either manages to sort them out for himself or decides that he'll deal with them at a later date and time.

Konstantin supposes that there was no way around it though -- after all, he was never quite how his father and grandfather had wanted him to be. No, most definitely not, because he turned out to be much more tenderhearted than he was supposed to of have been. That, he had been told repeatedly time and time again, was a very bad thing indeed. Because the more gentle a heart is, the softer it will also be -- and the softer a heart is, the easier it bleeds. And bleeding hearts do not survive in his line of work, do not survive within the confines and set guidelines of the Impedio Society. There is no question that Konstantin wants to survive, and so he keeps all of his tenderness and affection hidden away under key and lock -- but even then, it tends to seep out at the cracks. He cares more than he is supposed to, and often finds himself concerned with things that are, for lack of a better way to put it, supposedly trivial and trite. There is a certain sense of softness to him that, for whatever reason, no one has been able rid him of. Not his father, not his grandfather, not anyone alive or even dead. What shame that was, he remembers being told. What a shame that kindness was anything but a blessing.

So he tries his best to not let it effect him, the fact that he is, in all honesty, a fairly compassionate person. Everything happens for a reason, and he must do what he has to do -- because that is life, and life is survival of the fittest. Konstantin has, again and again, tried to justify the less-than-savory actions that he has been forced to commit due to circumstances with this sort of logic. This is the life he was born into, and there is nothing he can do about that -- but even inevitability and necessity are only cold comforts to him, ones that can't quite wash away the bad taste that certain deeds have left in his mouth. But life has a funny way of going on with or without you, and as a result, you either choose to be left behind or to follow along. (A certain someone once told him that maybe there was a third option, the one that allows you to forge your own destiny -- but even if such an option existed, it certainly had never been an option for him.) And so he chooses to go along with wherever life may lead him, be if for better or for worse. (And part of him, he supposes, finds it sickeningly ironic that for all that he has been raised to believe and understand about the Impedio Society and its purpose, not a single one of them will succeed in outrunning their fates and destinies at the end of it all.)

People always did say that he looked like his mother when she as younger, aside from the obvious differences. Konstantin finds it a little bit funny, actually, that he reminded so many people of her when he didn't exactly know her all that well himself. Irma Lenhoff (née Braun) was something of an elusive fairytale figure in Konstantin's early life, her job keeping her away from home for extended periods at a time. Whereas most children had mothers who played very prevalent roles in their first years of childhood, Konstantin remembers that he was raised primarily by a nanny, with sparse snatches of time every here and there where his mother would be present at home trying to make up for lost time. At least she made an effort to be a part of his life when she could, he supposes -- Konstantin can't really bring himself to blame her for not exactly being the most attentive mother, even if he does feel just a little bit bitter about it. Even so, he supposes that he is her son. Either that, or it was cosmic irony that he became an Artifact Hunter like her.


Vergil Lenhoff was a proud and imposing man, even when he had been laying in his deathbed. At least, that is how Konstantin remembers his grandfather -- legacy and familial pride were very important things to him, and he had wasted no time in making sure that Konstantin understood his duty as a Lenhoff. It wasn't old money or business empires that built up the Lenhoff legacy, but rather something much more... esoteric in nature. Exactly when the Lenhoffs became part of the Impedio Society is something of a mystery, but Konstantin's grandfather liked to claim that it was back sometime during the days of Charlemagne and the Carolingian Empire. If you were born a Lenhoff, then not only were you to uphold the family name and all that came with it, but you were to dedicate your life and all that it meant to serving the society as well -- that was something that Konstantin had drilled into his head from a very young and tender age, perhaps from the very moment that he could comprehend human speech and the meaning of words. It was made very clear that there would never be such thing as an ordinary civilian life for Konstantin -- and there are somethings you just never can forget.


It was a childhood made up of countless expectations, met with either triumph or disappointment, all of it interwoven into that veil of secrecy that never did seem to lift from his life. (Konstantin would eventually learn that it was something that would most likely follow him to the grave, whenever that would be.) Konstantin's father was much like his grandfather in respects to exactly what he expected of his son, and if there was one thing that Konstantin learned about Ulrich Lenhoff, it was that sympathy was anything but a word in his vocabulary. A notoriously strict but well-respected professor of cultural studies at the University of Munich by day and an Impedio Society researcher by night, Konstantin's father overlooked and took into his own hands the task of educating his son, and what he could not teach his son, he hired private tutors (all members of the society itself, of course) to take care of. However, Konstantin learned more than just simply standard educational teachings and long-forgotten histories from his father, and it was that the world was more cruel than kind. If he wished to survive, then he must succeed.


He liked his aunt a lot because she was, perhaps, the only consistent source of softness in his younger days. Sonja Lenhoff was Konstantin's father's younger sister, and perhaps the only person who could get away with most things under even his grandfather's nose. (Konstantin would later learn that it was because she had always been his grandfather's favorite.) Even when he was carefully being groomed to be yet another society-contributing member of the Lenhoff family, around her, there were brief snatches throughout the days where he could just be... well, a child, and a very curious one at that. His aunt always did indulge his many curiosities that anyone else in the family would have refused. Frivolous little things, but still things to be remembered nonetheless. She taught him how to fold a crane out of paper and the best way to catch fireflies, showed him the easiest way to win a game of tic-tac-toe and where the constellations were. At his request, his aunt taught him how to play the piano just like she did, because Konstantin remembers adoring the songs that seemed to flow from her fingertips. If his grandfather had taught him duty and his father perseverance, then it was his aunt who taught him affection. What a shame it was that she died when he was sixteen years-old.


Everyone thought that they would end up as a team, Konstantin and two other would-be Artifact Hunters. Blaise Winters and Cassie Gibson were, in a way, his closest friends growing up. They had gone through basic combat training together, as well as learning the more specialized fields that pertained almost exclusively to future Artifact Hunters. In a lot of ways, Blaise and Cassie were something of a support system to Konstantin, if he really thought about it. It was the former to whom he could relate the most to, as he had come from a similar background, both of them from families that expected perhaps way too much of them from much too early on. From the latter, he could always count on to make him laugh with her antics and to cheer him up on days that were less than pleasant, the sort of friend who had a heart of gold who, if it was possible, would drop everything to make sure he was alright. Indeed, Blaise and Cassie were both very, very near and dear to him -- but perhaps that closeness that he felt had been something of a double-edged sword all along, Konstantin would eventually come to realize as the years went by. In the end, he decided to become a solo Artifact Hunter instead, because he was afraid, so horribly, terribly afraid of the possibility of watching one or even the both of them die.


His younger brother had been born when he was eight years old -- he almost didn't make it, actually. August Lenhoff was a frail and sickly sort of boy, and Konstantin was told that he would never be able to safely do even half of the things that he could. (Not that a lot of the things that Konstantin would eventually do could even be considered remotely safe, but that was beside the point.) Because there were so many things that he could do that his brother couldn't, Konstantin found himself telling him stories about what it was like to be able to do those sorts of things. In time, Konstantin was telling him about all the places he had gone to, because his job as an Artifact Hunter for the Impedio Society took him all over the world, to places that were awe-inspiring or exotic or dangerous -- sometimes all three, even. He regaled his brother with tales of corridors hidden beneath the remains of ruined cathedrals, of elusive temples in rainforests that had remained untouched since their civilizations fell, of sunken armadas of ancient ships by the hundreds, and so much more. But he would never tell his brother about all of the times he had stared death in the face, of all the times he had to stoop so low as to steal, and most definitely not of that one time where an... altercation had forced his hand into silencing someone for good. There are some things, Konstantin knows, that are better left forever untold. (And some of those things, he wishes he could forget them for good.)


There are some things that Konstantin has never told anyone about, and probably never will tell anyone for as long if he can help it. An assignment had once led him to be relocated temporarily to the society headquarters in Highland all the way in the United Kingdom for anywhere between six months to a year. In the end, he stayed for eight months, and it was about halfway through those months that he had found himself casting longing glances at a certain boy. He saw him around the base a lot, and eavesdropping on conversations around the place earned him two pieces of information: that the boy's name was Riley Sterling, and that he was an Awakened Hunter. (It was called falling in love, Konstantin knew with a sense of certain dread -- his parents, much less his grandparents, would never approve, and he would be lucky if they didn't disown him if they found out.) Perhaps it was the greatest of ironies that it was from Riley himself that Konstantin learned that any secret you kept was because you cared too much for either what the secret itself revolved around, or the consequences that would follow if the secret got out. (It turned out that Riley had lied about not having a secret -- the last Konstantin had heard of the boy was that he had been killed alongside another boy who had been awakened into the Earth Kingdom that he had been assigned to quietly dispatch, but had instead fallen in love with and tried to protect from the society.)


Perhaps it was more than just a little bit fortunate that his maternal grandmother was knowledgeable in both medicine and medical procedures -- there were quite a few times, after all, that Konstantin had returned from assignments more than just a little worse for wear. Injuries were a commonplace thing, even if he tried to avoid them as best he could. There was one time where he had come back with a large gash across his chest, perhaps the most serious injury he had sustained up until that point. Rosamund Braun was a stoic and straightforward sort of woman, and she had wasted no time in telling Konstantin that he should simply be thankful that he was alive right as he had been about to open his mouth to lament to her. He had a lot of things to be thankful for, she had continued. He had a roof over his head and a rank to his name. He had grown up in fairly well-off and affluent household, had a purpose in life that he could and was to fulfill. He still had claim to his life, and that alone was something he should be grateful for, she had said matter-of-factly -- many Impedio Society operatives younger than him had already died. Konstantin had swallowed his words that day, and he said nothing more as his wound was tended to. He never did try to seek sympathy from her or most anyone else again after that. (Because he was lucky, and thus, had no right to complain about it all.)


There were things going on within the Impedio Society, more so than usual. A reassignment there, a change in departments there -- nothing unusual, had it not been for the fact that it seemed to be happening a lot lately, not to mention that it seemed that a large number of people were being transferred to Los Angeles all the way in America of all places. Something about higher than usual Fate activity or something along those lines. Konstantin supposes that it was indeed only just a matter of time before all of the transferring and shifting around reached the little outpost in Germany -- he just didn't think that he would be among the ones who would be getting transferred to the Impedio Society's Los Angeles branch. While Konstantin understood the reason for his transfer (there may very well be a large number of undiscovered artifacts in an area where Fate was apparently active), it eluded him as to why he was being transferred. (It wasn't as if he was particularly outstanding, and the only thing he could think of noteworthy about himself was that he largely worked solo.) But if there was one thing that had been drilled into Konstantin's head since day one, it was that you never, ever questioned the decisions of the society's higher-ups. They had the final say in everything, whether you liked it or not. And so Konstantin had no choice but to obey, and packed up his life in Germany to take America. He wouldn't come back for a long time.

The artifact that is assigned under Konstantin's name by the Impedio Society is a whip that is said to enhance the wielder's strength, and it makes for quite the combination when combined with Konstantin's hand-eye coordination. It appears to be made from plaits of black leather, and the ring knot and heel knot of the whip's handle appears to have been plated and encased with bronze. The bronze has seems to have something like symbols engraved into it (that Konstantin cannot read for the life of himself), and end of the handle is what Konstantin guesses is a cone-shaped piece of either onyx or obsidian. Whether the cone was supposed to be purely decorative or not is anyone's guess, but it seems that age has worn away the point of the cone so that it is no longer sharp enough to be of immediate danger to anybody. The whip itself is twenty feet long.

Due to the nature of his occupation, there will be times when Konstantin has not one, but two artifacts. However, that is strictly only for when he is on assignments that require the use of a second artifact, and it is usually an equipment-type artifact that grants him abilities he would need in order to survive in hostile environments. Any second artifact that Konstantin may be carrying on his person at any given time is always only on loan to him for his current mission, and he is required to return it at the end of every assignment.