Post by Darkfall on Apr 12, 2009 0:24:19 GMT -5
Not an overly muscular man, Jacob stands at an even 6’0’’ and is of a medium to lean build. He doesn’t appear to be very physically strong, though his calm and confidant movements and can suggest otherwise. Eyes of a blue so dark they are at times nearly seen as purple stare out from in between strands of chin length blonde hair. Jacob has a kind look to him, and a personality to match. He prefers the lighter side of armors, usually choosing a simple chain shirt over a full plate as most of his vocation would wear. From the day that he was given the oversized scarf by Nellea as a small token of appreciation for talking a greedy smith out of over-charging her for a simple short sword, it has been about his shoulders, worn just as she wore it.
Jacob grew up on a large farm in the Heartlands, west of Baldur’s gate with two brothers, one younger one older and two younger sisters. He enjoyed his simple life, all of his sixteen years of it, his work in the fields with his brothers and father kept him lean, muscular and deeply tanned. His older brother, Gregory, by the time Jacob turned sixteen had already left home, off to start his own farm and family. Though also at this time, a local militia came and recruited Jacob, so at the age of sixteen he went off and received training as a soldier; it was during this time Jacob found his love of bows. After quite a few bloody battles, the local militia had ceased its activity as it had achieved its goal and for the most part, disbanded. So after three years and at the age of 19, Jacob returned home to his family’s farm and the life of a farmer, his kind personality only very slightly hardened by some of the horrors that occur during a battle. Though now as he stood in the fields of his childhood, hard at work next to his brother Thomas and his father Jaycen, Jacob was remarkably…and utterly…bored. He spent a few weeks in pure boredom, eating the meals his mother, Lisa, and sisters, Isabella and Jaime prepared. That is, until one day he heard shouting and hooting from outside as the family took their meal.
While his family exchanged confused glances, Jacob recognized these sounds for what they actually were; battle cries. As Jacob stood up and began to shout for his family to hide, torches burst through the windows and the farmhouse started to slowly burn. His family scattered, his father to try and put out the fires, his mother, sisters and brother off to hide, as Jacob bolted up the stairs to where his armor and bow was in a trunk at the foot of his bed. Hastily and improperly, he donned his armor and grabbed his bow and quiver, already running back downstairs as he attached the quiver to his belt and notched an arrow. Just as he reached the landing halfway down the stairs, the door burst open and a crazed looking bandit charged in, nearly salivating with bloodlust as he searched the room for a target to take his machete like short sword to, another coming in behind him. The bandit’s eyes settled on Jaycen only a moment before Jacob’s arrow pierced his throat, sticking out the back of his neck. As soon as Jacob let that arrow loose, another was already being loaded into his bow, his fear and urgency to protect his family fueling him as he buried a second arrow in the eye of the second bandit. Even before the last vestiges of life left that first bandit as he lay in the doorway gurgling, Jacob was darting out the door over them, arrows tearing through the air to sink into bandit chests, arms, heads and legs.
Jacob darted around, sinking arrows and landing punches and kicks on the bandits closest to him, but there were too many and he was slowly being pushed toward the storage shed where the farming tools were kept, his movements slowing as he himself took an arrow to the shoulder, a slash to the left forearm and his right leg. He was pushed back into the shed, and the bandits actually gave pause a moment from the fury of the young man’s attacks; in the few moments Jacob was out in the open six of them lay dead and four others wounded. Their pause was very short, however. Though while inside, Jacob, wounded and with adrenaline pumping, took this moment to rest and gather his thoughts, though none came, only unbridled rage and seething hatred for those that would attack his family for a few oxen, a few bundles of wheat and simple bloodlust. Reaching into a corner he closed his fingers around the handle of one of the scythes as he cast his bow aside and detached his quiver, “Chauntea protect me…” He uttered a soft prayer as he let his rage and hatred consume him, rushing out the door of the shed just as the bandits were gathering about it. The bandits were caught completely off guard by the boy running out at them, roaring like an animal as he took the scythe to them, twisting, spinning, slashing…mowing them down as if they were wheat. Clear above all other things to Jacob in his rage, was that as he was charging out of the shed, a cool breeze blew directly into his face as he charged into it. Everything else in the world fell away to him as he blacked out, leaving a gap in his memory for the remainder of the battle.
When Jacob’s vision returned to him, he was standing amid a field that was just recently sown with wheat, carnage all around him. Breathing heavily but his breath coming in short ragged gasps, his entire body burned and screamed with agony as he slowly turned to look about him. Bodies, whole or in pieces laid strewn about him and in a line from the field in which he stood back to the houses; if he had to guess some of them had tried to run, but he hadn’t let them. His eyes focused on the doorway to his home to see his mother staring out at him with her hand covering her mouth, his father holding his youngest sister, Isabella, back from running to her brother, making her avert her eyes from the carnage Jacob wrought. Suddenly the world around Jacob dimmed as he finally succumbed to his many, many wounds; he fell backwards, passed out completely before he even hit the ground, the last thing he remembers hearing was a scream, though he doesn’t know if it was his mother or one of his sisters. When he woke he was wrapped nearly head to toe in bandages and could hardly move from stiffness and soreness, he spent near a month bedridden by orders of a doctor from Baldur’s Gate, he was left in the care of his mother and sisters while his father and younger brother worked at rebuilding and repairing what was destroyed in the bandit attack. Though after the month had passed and Jacob was fully healed, but some of his wounds had scared badly leaving a deep red furrow on his right thigh, a couple of the arrow wounds scattered about his body scarred and a horizontal slash across his chest; looking at these scars Jacob does not know how the hell he even lived…but you don’t kick the gift horse in the teeth! Jacob had fought and lived, his family had all survived as well as his home and fields. Life, as they say, could get no better.
The next few months passed quietly, fall gave way to winter, and winter yielded to spring though not once during the winter months had the family spoke of the bandit attack again. As spring came about, Jaycen had sent Jacob into Baldur’s gate for some whetstones to sharpen the scythe for the eventual harvest. As Jacob prepared for journey into Baldur’s gate, he paused and looked at the storage shed, hesitating a moment before ducking inside to take one of the scythes along with him. So in his leather breeches, wool shirt and armed with his scythe, Jacob began the short trek from the farm into Baldur’s gate. Though many gave the obvious farmer many strange looks as to why he was carrying around a scythe bluntly in the open, no one surprisingly enough said anything to him. He went about his task set by his father, gathering and purchasing enough whetstones to last them through the harvest. Though as he was making his way to exit the market of the city and eventually leave it, a strange figure approached him, dressed in green, black and silver. “Hey you, Farm boy. Do you know how to use that scythe?” Jacob turned around and came face to face with the iron mask of Grem Krinajeow, who after some talking convinced the young man to join the Verdant Guard. After Grem, Jacob, and the fledgling Verdant Guard went to Jacob’s farm so that he could tell his family about his decision, Jacob fully accepted the offer and went off to pass his initiate’s trial to become a full fledged member of the Verdant Guard; he passed with flying colors. Afterward, Grem took him into his Fourth Squad, Agon Eternus as his sixth seat and gifted him with his mechanical scythe and a superior chain shirt to that which he owned, though colored for the Verdant Guard. After passing, Jacob returned home one last time, alone, adorned in the colors of the Verdant Guard with the Marker of The Moss in the center of his chest and his mechanical war scythe upon his back in a sling, his chest puffed with a newfound pride as he walked down the path to the farmhouse. He said his final goodbyes to his family, but before leaving, Jacyen gifted Jacob the bow which he still uses to this day.
It’s been six years now since Jacob Crowley has become a full member of the Verdant Guard and he is now twenty five. He has since worked his way to the third seat of Agon Eternus and Jacob has become an excellent warrior who is well respected and liked within his circle and known for above all else that as far as he has come, of all the things that he has seen and done… he still keeps true to his roots; he is still the kind farm boy that was intoduced to them by Grem.
Jacob grew up on a large farm in the Heartlands, west of Baldur’s gate with two brothers, one younger one older and two younger sisters. He enjoyed his simple life, all of his sixteen years of it, his work in the fields with his brothers and father kept him lean, muscular and deeply tanned. His older brother, Gregory, by the time Jacob turned sixteen had already left home, off to start his own farm and family. Though also at this time, a local militia came and recruited Jacob, so at the age of sixteen he went off and received training as a soldier; it was during this time Jacob found his love of bows. After quite a few bloody battles, the local militia had ceased its activity as it had achieved its goal and for the most part, disbanded. So after three years and at the age of 19, Jacob returned home to his family’s farm and the life of a farmer, his kind personality only very slightly hardened by some of the horrors that occur during a battle. Though now as he stood in the fields of his childhood, hard at work next to his brother Thomas and his father Jaycen, Jacob was remarkably…and utterly…bored. He spent a few weeks in pure boredom, eating the meals his mother, Lisa, and sisters, Isabella and Jaime prepared. That is, until one day he heard shouting and hooting from outside as the family took their meal.
While his family exchanged confused glances, Jacob recognized these sounds for what they actually were; battle cries. As Jacob stood up and began to shout for his family to hide, torches burst through the windows and the farmhouse started to slowly burn. His family scattered, his father to try and put out the fires, his mother, sisters and brother off to hide, as Jacob bolted up the stairs to where his armor and bow was in a trunk at the foot of his bed. Hastily and improperly, he donned his armor and grabbed his bow and quiver, already running back downstairs as he attached the quiver to his belt and notched an arrow. Just as he reached the landing halfway down the stairs, the door burst open and a crazed looking bandit charged in, nearly salivating with bloodlust as he searched the room for a target to take his machete like short sword to, another coming in behind him. The bandit’s eyes settled on Jaycen only a moment before Jacob’s arrow pierced his throat, sticking out the back of his neck. As soon as Jacob let that arrow loose, another was already being loaded into his bow, his fear and urgency to protect his family fueling him as he buried a second arrow in the eye of the second bandit. Even before the last vestiges of life left that first bandit as he lay in the doorway gurgling, Jacob was darting out the door over them, arrows tearing through the air to sink into bandit chests, arms, heads and legs.
Jacob darted around, sinking arrows and landing punches and kicks on the bandits closest to him, but there were too many and he was slowly being pushed toward the storage shed where the farming tools were kept, his movements slowing as he himself took an arrow to the shoulder, a slash to the left forearm and his right leg. He was pushed back into the shed, and the bandits actually gave pause a moment from the fury of the young man’s attacks; in the few moments Jacob was out in the open six of them lay dead and four others wounded. Their pause was very short, however. Though while inside, Jacob, wounded and with adrenaline pumping, took this moment to rest and gather his thoughts, though none came, only unbridled rage and seething hatred for those that would attack his family for a few oxen, a few bundles of wheat and simple bloodlust. Reaching into a corner he closed his fingers around the handle of one of the scythes as he cast his bow aside and detached his quiver, “Chauntea protect me…” He uttered a soft prayer as he let his rage and hatred consume him, rushing out the door of the shed just as the bandits were gathering about it. The bandits were caught completely off guard by the boy running out at them, roaring like an animal as he took the scythe to them, twisting, spinning, slashing…mowing them down as if they were wheat. Clear above all other things to Jacob in his rage, was that as he was charging out of the shed, a cool breeze blew directly into his face as he charged into it. Everything else in the world fell away to him as he blacked out, leaving a gap in his memory for the remainder of the battle.
When Jacob’s vision returned to him, he was standing amid a field that was just recently sown with wheat, carnage all around him. Breathing heavily but his breath coming in short ragged gasps, his entire body burned and screamed with agony as he slowly turned to look about him. Bodies, whole or in pieces laid strewn about him and in a line from the field in which he stood back to the houses; if he had to guess some of them had tried to run, but he hadn’t let them. His eyes focused on the doorway to his home to see his mother staring out at him with her hand covering her mouth, his father holding his youngest sister, Isabella, back from running to her brother, making her avert her eyes from the carnage Jacob wrought. Suddenly the world around Jacob dimmed as he finally succumbed to his many, many wounds; he fell backwards, passed out completely before he even hit the ground, the last thing he remembers hearing was a scream, though he doesn’t know if it was his mother or one of his sisters. When he woke he was wrapped nearly head to toe in bandages and could hardly move from stiffness and soreness, he spent near a month bedridden by orders of a doctor from Baldur’s Gate, he was left in the care of his mother and sisters while his father and younger brother worked at rebuilding and repairing what was destroyed in the bandit attack. Though after the month had passed and Jacob was fully healed, but some of his wounds had scared badly leaving a deep red furrow on his right thigh, a couple of the arrow wounds scattered about his body scarred and a horizontal slash across his chest; looking at these scars Jacob does not know how the hell he even lived…but you don’t kick the gift horse in the teeth! Jacob had fought and lived, his family had all survived as well as his home and fields. Life, as they say, could get no better.
The next few months passed quietly, fall gave way to winter, and winter yielded to spring though not once during the winter months had the family spoke of the bandit attack again. As spring came about, Jaycen had sent Jacob into Baldur’s gate for some whetstones to sharpen the scythe for the eventual harvest. As Jacob prepared for journey into Baldur’s gate, he paused and looked at the storage shed, hesitating a moment before ducking inside to take one of the scythes along with him. So in his leather breeches, wool shirt and armed with his scythe, Jacob began the short trek from the farm into Baldur’s gate. Though many gave the obvious farmer many strange looks as to why he was carrying around a scythe bluntly in the open, no one surprisingly enough said anything to him. He went about his task set by his father, gathering and purchasing enough whetstones to last them through the harvest. Though as he was making his way to exit the market of the city and eventually leave it, a strange figure approached him, dressed in green, black and silver. “Hey you, Farm boy. Do you know how to use that scythe?” Jacob turned around and came face to face with the iron mask of Grem Krinajeow, who after some talking convinced the young man to join the Verdant Guard. After Grem, Jacob, and the fledgling Verdant Guard went to Jacob’s farm so that he could tell his family about his decision, Jacob fully accepted the offer and went off to pass his initiate’s trial to become a full fledged member of the Verdant Guard; he passed with flying colors. Afterward, Grem took him into his Fourth Squad, Agon Eternus as his sixth seat and gifted him with his mechanical scythe and a superior chain shirt to that which he owned, though colored for the Verdant Guard. After passing, Jacob returned home one last time, alone, adorned in the colors of the Verdant Guard with the Marker of The Moss in the center of his chest and his mechanical war scythe upon his back in a sling, his chest puffed with a newfound pride as he walked down the path to the farmhouse. He said his final goodbyes to his family, but before leaving, Jacyen gifted Jacob the bow which he still uses to this day.
It’s been six years now since Jacob Crowley has become a full member of the Verdant Guard and he is now twenty five. He has since worked his way to the third seat of Agon Eternus and Jacob has become an excellent warrior who is well respected and liked within his circle and known for above all else that as far as he has come, of all the things that he has seen and done… he still keeps true to his roots; he is still the kind farm boy that was intoduced to them by Grem.