Age: 12
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Appearance: A thin looking boy with a round chin and wide watching eyes. He's actually a bit shorter than the average child his age but he makes up for it with speed and planning. His skin is pale and lips are drawn tight in a pouting frown though this is usually quick to disappear. Bright green eyes stare from long locks of chocolate brown hair. His hands aren't as soft as they appear to be (gotten rough from helping his father and the long years on the street) but his appearance has cleaned up considerably since Drayel has taken him under his wing. His hair is no longer in knots all the time and his face is cleaner though he still usually has some sort of dirt on his hands or clothes.
Clothes: Jackal wears a simple pair of short trousers and short sleeved wool shirt for the summer. In the winter however he tends to wear a couple layers of long sleeved wool shirts, a pair of long trousers, a thick pair of boots, and some sort of gloves and hat that Drayel scrounges up for him. A rope belt always is worn with a small pouch is always on him unless he's sleeping. Then it's under his pillow (pouch, not belt).
Belongings:
Hand sewn Pouch: This pouch is what holds him money in it along with usually a list from Drayel of what to pick up or chores to do. It appears to be made from materials Jackal found in the dumpsters while his days on the street. As bad as the memories of the street were, he keeps hold of it as in a way to remind him of how far he came.
Varied Staff: Jackal usually carries a long stick around with him that he has tied to his back. Using this as a pole vaulting tool in his thieving days, he's never far without one. It's not necessarily the same stick every trip but usually the same length and roughly same width. He also can use this for defense.
Handmade Necklace: A leather string that ties a blue stone loosely around the boy's neck. Something Drayel had given to Jackal as a promise. Like the pouch he tries to keep it on his person and it gets to the point where he doesn't take it off unless Drayel himself asks the boy to. Not much else can be done to make the boy rid it of him despite being at a rather formal party. This necklace looks similar to the one Drayel wears but it isn't the exact one.
Strength:
Unlock: The only magic Jackal knows and it's probably one of the oddest. Jackal has the ability to unlock doors, buckles, chests, and windows but not without leaving a mark. At a quick glance the locks look untouched but if inspected farther and given a sniff, it has a distinct smell of hot metal and strongly of magic. Often little scorch marks are left near the key hole/tampering point but these can be wiped off or looked over if not looking for it.
Optimistic: Jackal tries to look at the best of things instead of the worst, making use of whatever he can to try and make his or his companions life easier. This doesn't make him naive however as he's quite realistic but he tries to hold a positive attitude despite having difficult situations.
Handy: If Jackal sees a scrap of metal, he can find five ways to use it. Jack tries to use what he has around him in order to invent or create things and what others see as trash, he'll take as treasure. Often this leads to odd looking gadets lying around the house but as long as he keeps most of it in the attic, Drayel brings him home odds and ends he finds during his patrols.
Quick and Light: Jack is quick on his feet and rather light footed. He's able to run quick enough that Drayel often has problems keeping up while being quiet enough to be able to hide while walking. Should he run however he makes quite a bit of noise so his stealth is none in putt.
Weakness:
Untaught: Most of Jack's skills are based of surviving the streets, not things like arithmetic or writings. He hadn't been in school before Drayel put him through it and so he's quite far behind. He finds it difficult to sit in the classrooms and pay attention when he'd rather be running around or eating. Two years now and he can spell out simple words and read a little but he hates math more then he hates vegetables.
Attitude: Jackal tends to have a bit of a snotty attitude when he first meets people. He'll act tough and sneer a lot but the general rule with him is the more he spits, the more he's frightened. This however tends to get him in more trouble than good but he uses it as a defensive mechanism he'd developed on the streets. The way he sees it, is if he doesn't bond with a person they can't hurt him later on.
Height: Jackal is short for his age due to malnutrition. Though he's packed on a couple pounds since living with Drayel his height is nearly an inch shorter than the average boy's and he finds this rather frustrating, especially seeing how Drayel is so tall. Bullies will often tease him about it.
Insecurity: Jackal always hates it when those he cares about leaves him, even for a short periods of time. He'll say he's alright and often brush off any attempts to stay with him but inwardly he hates it. Having been living on his own for so long he subconsciously fears that he'll either wake up and be back on the streets or that Drayel will get tired of him and just leave him.
Make Proud: Jack does whatever he can to make those who know him proud of him. Often though these plans are half schemed and end badly causing more heart attacks for said loved ones rather then pride. Still, he tries to prove his worth in the only way he knows how. Either stealing or doing something incredibly stupid.
History
The earliest memory Jack possesses is one with his mother, holding his hand in her boney fingers as she stamped stiffly in the cold snow. The night was pretty late and Jackal was trembling beneath a patched up coat, looking exhausted and miserable as he stood obediently beside his mother.
Twice he'd gone with his mother, but this was the one he remembered because this was the last one he went on with her. He'd curled in on himself in an attempt to stay warm while she jittered and glanced anxiously around the road. If Mother didn't like such a man, why did she keep coming back? He remembered asking that very question and got a sad heavy look in response. He didn't ask again.
Thinking back, he wasn't sure why he was forced to go that time. Six years old and tired he waited for his mother's... 'friend' to show up with a bag of stuff Mother liked. She'd give him money, he'd give her the bag, and then Jackal and his mother would walk back down the dark slush streets, towards the creaking house built of leaning planks.
He didn't have any boots that winter. They were too expensive and the last pair he had lost the bottoms so were deemed now useless. Instead, they took the now ragged fabrics and tacked it against the wall in an attempt to block out more of the cold winds. The laces were tied together had hung up in a laundry line that hovered above the firepit. Crawling in through a crooked door, Jackal whined a little in complaint as he hit his arms in an attempt to stay warm while his mother stole another piece of wood from the neighbors to burn.
As usual, after he curled up on the holey fabric he used as a bed his mother opened the bag. He remembered the house smelling sickly sweet as she breathed it in, her eyes widening and her emotions mellowing the more she breathed it in. Lying low to the floor, Jackal covered his nose as he was taught and found sleep on the icy ground.
To them the rich were simply targets for Mother, men were frightening and avoided at all costs, and the other children were not to be trifled with. After all, one loose word and she would be taken by them, those....guards. For years she'd told Jackal stories of those terrible men.
"They look and act, even smell like humans but they lack a soul or a brain to think with." She'd whisper as she tucked him in at night. "They follow orders without second thoughts of who they effect or even why the crime was committed. They don't see a hungry child, they see a thief. They don't see a frightened woman, they see a woman with a knife in her hand. They do not pause to ask questions, they simply take you or jail you. There is no second chances."
'Monsters cloaked in armor' she'd often said when they scurried past their cold steely eyes. 'Soulless things that gave up their spirits.' So Jackal was taught to avoid the guards at all cost, fearing them like a child would fear the boogie man. He'd have nightmares of waking up find mother missing, or of them breaking into the house and taking him to a place where blood and filth clung to the walls and instruments of torture lay about. Unfortunately, his nightmares had come true.
Aged at ten, Jackal was awoke to the heavy pounding on the creaking wooden door. A heavy voice bellowed that it was the guard, and if they were home to open the door. Jackal scrambled out of bed, eyes wide in terror as he looked instinctively towards the hidden trap door his mother had made. Covered by a carpet, he would be able to hide beneath the house if they searched upstairs.
He struggled with the latch, pulling it open with a fierce yank and quickly but quietly forcing it closed again. He pulled on a little rope that dragged a carpet back over to conceal the door, he waited trembling in the dark as he tried to hear above.
A loud crack and the heavy thud of wood against wood told him that they'd broke down the door. Jackal felt his heart pound against his breast as he curled in on himself, trying looking up through the cracks in the floor with almost terrified curiousity. What met his eyes made him wish he'd never looked though, his blood chilling as he watched the figure step into view.
A guard clad in armor with a sword in his hand and a helmet to cover his face. He must have been in a battle before he'd come because his armor was torn up to reveal his shoulder, tattooed with what looked like a sword. Blood splattered over his chest plate and dripped from his sword in a slow dribble. A fresh scratch on his forearm bled steadily though he didn't appear to notice it much. He seemed more intent on looking around.
"Jackal?" He boomed as he took another step inside. "This is the city guard! Make yourself known!"
The blood in Jackal's veins grew cold, freezing with the realization that this was no dream. He watched in growing fear as the boots stepped in another step, then another, eventually making its way into the scraggly house. The guard moved things, peering behind boxes and curtains as he tried to find Jackal's hiding place. The shuffling of fabric and the scrapping of wood sent sparks through Jack's heart as the guard above even moved furniture in an attempt to find him.
For nearly ten minutes it was a game of cat and mouse, hiding in the crevices and searching for the hole. So far, no luck for the guard as he stood silently in the center of the bedroom, mere feet from the trap door. He must have noticed something, seen the carpet stuck in the floor boards maybe or something because he turned and looked right at it. Three steps, three booming steps it took for the guard to come to a stand and begin to crouch beside the hidden latch door when another voice boomed.
"Oi! Morig, get your ass out here!" A voice snapped causing the guard inside to pause and turn towards the open door. "What're ya doing in there anyway? Looking for loot?"
"Not even close." the guard answered coldly. "She said she had a little boy didn't she? He should be here."
"She's lyin'! Tryin' to get away, see? Pity party and all that crap." the outside voice snorted. "Come on, we've got a mess to clean up. Puttin' that toothless wench in the cells wasn't the end of duty you know."
"I'm quite aware." came the irritated response. "What if she told the truth then? We leave a boy in the cold?"
"He's from the filthy part of town, he'll survive. They always do." snipped outside man. "They're like maggots that way. Come on, or I'll burn the house down to prove it."
"You will do no such thing." the guard spat standing abruptly and stalking towards the door and glared outside, his voice muffled now by distance and the growing wind that crept inside the home. "Come on then. I shall check later on."
And so he did. Every night for nearly a month the man came back, calling his name and looking through the house. He'd found the trap door on his third visit, pulling back the carpet to look at it with an almost startled then pitying look. He'd left without opening it, simply walking away with his hands in his pockets. Since then, he'd leave baskets of food just inside the house where Jackal could reach. Jack would avoid it at all cost though, waiting until he was near starved before he ate the bread and meat that lay inside. Fearing the guard, he remained hidden each visit, coming to sleep and live in the hiding place rather than upstairs. When it came spring however, the food slowed slightly as did the visits giving Jackal a chance to try and survive on his own.
He'd learned from his mother the spell to pick locks though he'd never been able to practice. She knew a good many spells, most of them involving hiding or theft but she'd been taken before she could teach him more. So, he makes due. Stealing from vendors and drunk idiots, he honed his stealth slowly, taking time to learn and watch others from the rooftops where he usually sits.
His first full robbery was from a bakers store (Baker, Baker, Where are your buns?) which ended up being his last. Caught redhanded by none other than Drayel Morig, the same man who left food for him the months before. At first he fought him, yelling and snarling like a mad dog as he struggled against the guard's iron grip. He'd nearly gotten away too had a shifter not taken him to the floor.
At that moment, Jackal was sure he was going to die. He'd stolen, hit a guard, and insulted every last one of them yet Drayel didn't command the snarling dog to rip out his throat. In fact, he grabbed the dog by the scruff and commanded him to get back. Frightened Jackal was pinned to the floor not by a body, but by the stare. Staring eyes that was neither angry, disgusted, or even pitying. He was just, staring. Then he offered him something Jackal never expected.
Drayel offered to take the boy in. To take him under his wing and show him the right path. Jackal spat on him, sneering at his offer as he scrambled off the floor and ran into the night, cursing the guard with every spitting word. He ran while the guard held his dog in place, watching the boy run without so much as a curse or shout.
Two days after that Jack found himself surrounded by the thugs who ran the area during a storm. They were furious that he dared rob on their turf, determined to show him who owned the place as they yelled and raised fists and knives. He'd taken out one of them, knocking him out with a sharp crack with his stick. The other three didn't take kindly to that and charged.
Only one blow hit him, a fist of a falling thug that struck his arm as the man staggered gaping. From his back was a crossbow bolt, fired by the crossbow of Drayel. Seeing their friend injured but not yet dead, the thugs made a run for it only to receive each a bolt in the leg. They yowled in pain but a sharp crack to the back of their skulls silenced them with unconsciousness.
Terrified he was next, Jackal lay on the ground with wide staring eyes. He trembled beneath the heavy arm of the man or else he'd of run. Instead he was forced to look way up into the cold eyes of the guard, the crossbow still gripped firmly in gloved fist. Drayel stood over him for a while, simply looking at him as though he had all the time in the world. As if they weren't amongst enemies, like Jackal hadn't insulted him two days before, and as though it was perfectly normal for Drayel to suddenly appear during a storm to save his life.
When Drayel repeated his offer, Jackal took it. He saw compassion in eyes that weren't suppose to have a soul and that alone shocked him into trust. The guard who still held a soul, the single one Jackal met that looked past bad deeds for reasons, and looked past appearances to see personality. He hesitated at first though, looking at the offered hand much like a dog would watch a stranger but hesitant he stretched out his own. Calloused fingers gripped firmly onto him, pulling him to his feet gentle as he could while trying to keep grip on the wet clothed boy.
Jackal looked at the hand that held onto him, watching it let go and start to drop. He wasn't sure what made him move, but a panic hit him and he grabbed Drayel's hands with his own. He held onto it, afraid if he let go that Drayel would vanish too. He wasn't sure why he cared if the guard left him, why he felt almost desperate to hang on to the man he now knew had supplied the food. Drayel didn't protest though, simply drawing the boy into a firm hold as he hunched over, shielding him from rain and from his own fears. Jackal felt his face burn as his hands clenched onto cold armored arms, crying harder than he ever remembered while the soulless monster held him close.
Drayel brought him to a family with the shifter who attacked him before. Heated words between the males made Jackal shrink behind Drayel, looking up anxiously at the angry werewolf. Noticing his fear Drayel forced his tone to lower, growling out dully as he put a hand on the boy's shoulder.
It took a bit of convincing but Jackal was allowed in the house for a while until Drayel had enough money to fix the farm house. It had taken a bit of time, enough time for him and Shade to bond over tormenting Drayel anyway. Usually by means of Shade running off with Jackal then suddenly realizing he lost the boy. Normally Drayel would find him first of course, smacking the back of his wrists and returning whatever trinket caught the boy's eye with a sharp scolding to Jack.
The farmhouse was semi-fixed close to Fall, the cracking leaves and fruit trees decorating its landscape in a dash of color. Jackal who'd never seen the outside farmland quickly became ecstatic, running up and down the fields with his hands wide at his sides. Drayel simply watched him for a while before going into the house to make supper.
Most of the time they're forced to stay in the city, Drayel at the guard house while Jack stays at Lucy's house. This way Drayel is able to work as a guard easier to earn money to start up the farm again. Normally Jack will wander around the city, tagging after Drayel or simply help around the bakery he'd stolen from. He's gotten better with the stealing (though he still pickpockets occasionally) and has the attitude of a street kid but he knows no matter how he screws up Drayel will always be behind him with a good solid fist ready for smacking.
