Jahl
05-05-06, 11:54 AM
Name: Jahl Tsurugachi
Race: Human
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Occupation: Wood Artisan/ Former Apprentice Armor Smith
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 155 lbs
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Scarlet
Equipment:
- Black leather overcoat with fur collar
- Steel plated armor
- Chain mail (Steel)
- Wooden sword (mahogany)
- Leather belts
-Leather carrying satchel
- Opal, Onyx, Ruby, Sapphire, Minor Sapphire, Topaz, Emerald globes (socketed into armor)
All Globes are only about 10% of their descriptive jewel and 90% mixture of glass and crystal; this takes away from their monetary value and keeps the globes from being fragile.
-Carving Blade
-Wood Chisel
-Artisan’s Mallet
Skills:
-Wooden mask carving: Jahl has the capability of pouring his heart and soul into a piece of artwork, however, the masks that he whittles and spends his time carving are special, each one seeming to portray into the wearer the feelings or imagery of the mask. As of now, even after years of attempts, he has been able to carve no such masks that will totally affect the wearer in a totally metamorphic stasis, so far all he can get is the feeling of amplified senses in a particular mask, the Owl Mask.
Masks:
-10 generic wooden masks. (carved by Jahl)
-Owl Mask: This mask portrays the face of a great horned owl. It amplifies the sight of Jahl (and only Jahl) by making it possible to see in the dark more efficiently than humans, but not as well as a subterranean creature. However, if the mask is placed on during the day, it has a reverse effect and makes the vision of Jahl worsen. The effect of worsening vision imbues any wearer other than Jahl.
Physical Description:
Jahl is a medium sized human with a bitter look about his face all the time, he has large eyes, but they are always glaring, staring into the very fiber of all physical things, searching their demeanor and creative meaning. From the bottom of his left eye sprouts three black tattoos, each gradually growing longer down to his jaw line. He also has similar tattoos coming from his bottom lip to his chin.
Perhaps the most alarming sight of Jahl is the long mahogany broad sword that he carries around, strapped to his waist like a real sword, even in a steel sheath. The sword is used to bludgeon enemies in a club-like fashion, but also to inspire a sense of underestimation from his foes.
He wears all sorts of armor, twisted and curved in various ways to portray his imagination. On his left arm, from his shoulder to his elbows, lays metal plates and sectioned cable to support his steel plate. There, in the middle of the plate, lays one of the seven jewel globes that cover his armor, this one is the Ruby globe. A large gear ranges from the plating in his shoulder to the small band of steel that wraps around his elbow. This gear allows his arm to lock into place and to retract and lash out quickly. The steel band at his elbow also has plating that bends and curves to imitate a blade-like fashion. Not only does the armor resemble a blade, but a four inch blade juts out of the plating where his elbow would be, mirroring on the right side as well. On each of the elbow plates, there is another globe, one for each joint. The left side holds the Amber globe and the right side bears the Opal globe. Along the scarlet colored steel of his right arm, there are two jewel globes, the Emerald and Minor Sapphire globes. On the knee-caps of his armor, there are the last two globes, the right side bearing the Sapphire globe and the left holding the Onyx globe.
Down past his elbows, the Chain mail begins, links of cold steel flow down to the steel ring that wraps around his wrists, there, plates of steel stick out to protect his hands (which are bare). Chain mail also follows from his thighs to the kneecaps where the plated armor of his boots begin. On his left hand there are two rings (steel), each with the insignia of his own making for branding his work. One insignia represents his family, a large lion protecting seven small cubs, each with an orb in their mouth. The other shows jahl’s own personality, a large dragon incrusted with jewels all across the scales, holding a grand sword. From each of these rings branch a single chain that splits into many that lead up to the protective plate, these keep the rings from being taken or misplaced during branding.
History:
“You have ter make the metal so it’s not too hot and not too cold, son.” It was a feat to be able to speak in the blistering heat that the furnace created, but Jahl watched in amazement as the black-smith continued, “Then, after the metal turns orange, but not red, ya have ter take this here piping,” he turned to reach beyond the slight glow of the hot coals and pulled forth from the shadows a long steel cylinder, hollowed out in the middle, “and…” He took a deep breath, and placed the piping to his lips, ready to blow, when a twelve-year-old Jahl cut in, “Is… that to… cool… the heat?” It was difficult for the small lungs to grasp air in the stifling heat of the room, but sheer curiosity made him ask the question. The smith stopped and looked at Jahl, “What did I tell ya about stupid questions, boy? Save yer breath.” The smith continued, blowing a cool jet stream over the orange steel. Jahl watched in amazement, uncrossing his arms from the dingy apron that he always wore while working, as the steel curled slightly and began to inflate a little bit. “Ya see, this here air makes it so the metal is light n’ fluffy.”
“Light and fluffy my rear, this stuff is still heavier than just my skin.” Jahl was in a tavern, sitting next to a young child who almost seemed to be there out of accident, he had been telling the young stranger about his story. It didn’t seem to bother Jahl that someone else knew about him, especially someone he figured he would never see again after he left the next morning.
“Go on, Mister.” called the child enthusiastically.
“Alright. Well, my father taught me how to super-heat and air steel, but it’s definitely not easy, not even remotely.”
“Boy! Why won’t you just beat that metal and stop acting like your mother?” Jahl was having a hard time beating the dense steel into any shape at all, partly because orange steel is harder than red, but also because he was a young child and his muscles hadn’t developed yet.
“I’m trying, just leave me alone!” Jahl was tired and he was not up to working, he had already made his father upset once that day and he wasn’t making things any better, “Give me a freaking break!” Jahl didn’t have time to be sorry for what he said, he only had enough time to give a small yelp as the fist of his father came crashing into his jaw, giving him the requested break, two of them. The surgeon told his father that he had a fractured jaw and a broken arm from landing amongst some random smithing tools, but his father would have none of it. “My boy is a man, he can take it, and I’m not babying him and letting him out of work.” That’s how the conversation began, but it ended in Jahl’s father punching the physician and leaving with Jahl.
“Most of my life was like that, every time I did something wrong, I found out that it was wrong. Especially when I started to carve wood…” Jahl looked at the kid next to him, staring at the boy’s demeanor and appearance. He was an innocent and spunky kid, but he wore nothing but burlap rags, barely enough to discern that he wore anything at all under the mud that covered him. “I was fifteen when I first started to carve. My friend had given me his knife before he moved away.”
The fifteen-year-old Jahl stared out of the wood and sod house window out at the dark sky. It was a new moon, and there was no light other than the glow of his father’s heating pit. His father always worked late, no matter what, but Jahl was allowed to go home early because of his mother’s asking. Jahl climbed down clumsily from the hammock he was charged to stay in and wandered outside, climbing past his sleeping mother. Slowly, he made his way over to the only tree in the yard, the dog wood, there he sat during the day and used to read a little, but now it seemed like he never had the time to do it. Gently he brushed his hands across the ground to feel for anything that he might sit on, it was there that he found a dead limb of the dog wood. He plopped down and pulled the stick comfortably into his hand. It was smooth, but he could not tell the color. He pulled out the brittle knife and began to stroke the wood with it, making small grooves and various cuts blindly.
“I still have that stick that I carved that night,” Jahl said, reaching into his leather satchel, “I don’t know why I keep it.”
“OOH A GIRRAFE!” Beamed the little boy as Jahl pulled out the carved stick. It was nothing special, just a five inch long dog wood branch that was nicked and shaved, it didn’t even look remotely like a giraffe, but none-the-less, Jahl said, “Wow, you have quite an imagination there, kiddo. Here why don’t you take it, I’m sure I won’t need it.” Jahl gladly handed the stick over to the kid and watched for a bit, watched the child pretend to be in some far distant plain with lions and giraffes.
“Yeah, I loved carving then, and do now, but it didn’t put me very high on my father’s list of people to be nice to.” The kid wasn’t listening, but Jahl continued on anyway.
“Boy! you’ve been carving again, haven’t ya!” Jahl was finally getting used to the heat in the room and retaliated, “Shut up, dad. I can do what I want!”
“Not while you live in MY HOUSE!” His father was furious now, his face bubbling and red like the steel that Jahl was working.
“I told you to shut the hell up, idiot!” Thud: that was the last sound Jahl had heard before he woke up to the sensation of being upside-down. He was upside-down, hanging from his ankles. But he had been here before and still knew how to get down. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out his rusting knife. It took effort but he finally brought his battered body back down to earth, where he found that his head wasn’t the only thing beaten the night before, not by a long shot. He hated that man with an extreme passion, with every fiber of his being, he loathed the thought of being the smith’s offspring, he had even disowned and forgotten his name.
“Mister, Mister!” came the sound of the young child, pulling his attention back into the present. “You’re black thingy is glowing and it’s scaring me!” Jahl looked down at his left knee, the Onyx globe releasing a black light. “Yeah, don’t be scared, it’s only telling you that I’m upset, that’s it.” Jahl really had no clue, but he figured that’s what would happen when he got so worked up over his past.
“Some things aren’t meant to be heard at your age, kid.” Jahl cut in, bringing himself back into the conversation, “and because of that, you shouldn’t hear the rest.” Jahl thought of how horrid it would be for the child to hear the horrible events that had happened afterwards, about the mask that drove him insane and caused him to commit the horrible act, yet the same mask used to start the fire that created his armor. His kind of story was not meant to be retold, and he realized that no one was an exception, not even his mother who had died that very night.
“Come on, mister, tell me, tell me!” the kid was anxious to hear the rest of the story, so Jahl made an ending up.
“Then one day, I left, I left everything behind and headed out here, and this is where I am to this very day.” Not exactly true, but not all false either. Jahl felt a sense of closure about the conversation, but the child was not through.
“Why didn’t you just tell them to leave? I told my mommy to leave and I haven’t seen her in a long time, if it worked for me, then it should work for you!”
Jahl then realized that the kid didn’t work and it wasn’t mud all over him, it was grime from the streets, and he had no one to go to. “Not my problem,” he reassured himself. His horrible attitude was returning after reviewing all that had happened. “Get, kid, you shouldn’t be here anyway.”
“Bye, bye, Mister!” came the call from the id as he took his ‘giraffe’ and left the bar to some unknown destination. All Jahl could do was look back down at his pint of ale, and watch the scornful look upon his face as the night grew old.
Race: Human
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Occupation: Wood Artisan/ Former Apprentice Armor Smith
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 155 lbs
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Scarlet
Equipment:
- Black leather overcoat with fur collar
- Steel plated armor
- Chain mail (Steel)
- Wooden sword (mahogany)
- Leather belts
-Leather carrying satchel
- Opal, Onyx, Ruby, Sapphire, Minor Sapphire, Topaz, Emerald globes (socketed into armor)
All Globes are only about 10% of their descriptive jewel and 90% mixture of glass and crystal; this takes away from their monetary value and keeps the globes from being fragile.
-Carving Blade
-Wood Chisel
-Artisan’s Mallet
Skills:
-Wooden mask carving: Jahl has the capability of pouring his heart and soul into a piece of artwork, however, the masks that he whittles and spends his time carving are special, each one seeming to portray into the wearer the feelings or imagery of the mask. As of now, even after years of attempts, he has been able to carve no such masks that will totally affect the wearer in a totally metamorphic stasis, so far all he can get is the feeling of amplified senses in a particular mask, the Owl Mask.
Masks:
-10 generic wooden masks. (carved by Jahl)
-Owl Mask: This mask portrays the face of a great horned owl. It amplifies the sight of Jahl (and only Jahl) by making it possible to see in the dark more efficiently than humans, but not as well as a subterranean creature. However, if the mask is placed on during the day, it has a reverse effect and makes the vision of Jahl worsen. The effect of worsening vision imbues any wearer other than Jahl.
Physical Description:
Jahl is a medium sized human with a bitter look about his face all the time, he has large eyes, but they are always glaring, staring into the very fiber of all physical things, searching their demeanor and creative meaning. From the bottom of his left eye sprouts three black tattoos, each gradually growing longer down to his jaw line. He also has similar tattoos coming from his bottom lip to his chin.
Perhaps the most alarming sight of Jahl is the long mahogany broad sword that he carries around, strapped to his waist like a real sword, even in a steel sheath. The sword is used to bludgeon enemies in a club-like fashion, but also to inspire a sense of underestimation from his foes.
He wears all sorts of armor, twisted and curved in various ways to portray his imagination. On his left arm, from his shoulder to his elbows, lays metal plates and sectioned cable to support his steel plate. There, in the middle of the plate, lays one of the seven jewel globes that cover his armor, this one is the Ruby globe. A large gear ranges from the plating in his shoulder to the small band of steel that wraps around his elbow. This gear allows his arm to lock into place and to retract and lash out quickly. The steel band at his elbow also has plating that bends and curves to imitate a blade-like fashion. Not only does the armor resemble a blade, but a four inch blade juts out of the plating where his elbow would be, mirroring on the right side as well. On each of the elbow plates, there is another globe, one for each joint. The left side holds the Amber globe and the right side bears the Opal globe. Along the scarlet colored steel of his right arm, there are two jewel globes, the Emerald and Minor Sapphire globes. On the knee-caps of his armor, there are the last two globes, the right side bearing the Sapphire globe and the left holding the Onyx globe.
Down past his elbows, the Chain mail begins, links of cold steel flow down to the steel ring that wraps around his wrists, there, plates of steel stick out to protect his hands (which are bare). Chain mail also follows from his thighs to the kneecaps where the plated armor of his boots begin. On his left hand there are two rings (steel), each with the insignia of his own making for branding his work. One insignia represents his family, a large lion protecting seven small cubs, each with an orb in their mouth. The other shows jahl’s own personality, a large dragon incrusted with jewels all across the scales, holding a grand sword. From each of these rings branch a single chain that splits into many that lead up to the protective plate, these keep the rings from being taken or misplaced during branding.
History:
“You have ter make the metal so it’s not too hot and not too cold, son.” It was a feat to be able to speak in the blistering heat that the furnace created, but Jahl watched in amazement as the black-smith continued, “Then, after the metal turns orange, but not red, ya have ter take this here piping,” he turned to reach beyond the slight glow of the hot coals and pulled forth from the shadows a long steel cylinder, hollowed out in the middle, “and…” He took a deep breath, and placed the piping to his lips, ready to blow, when a twelve-year-old Jahl cut in, “Is… that to… cool… the heat?” It was difficult for the small lungs to grasp air in the stifling heat of the room, but sheer curiosity made him ask the question. The smith stopped and looked at Jahl, “What did I tell ya about stupid questions, boy? Save yer breath.” The smith continued, blowing a cool jet stream over the orange steel. Jahl watched in amazement, uncrossing his arms from the dingy apron that he always wore while working, as the steel curled slightly and began to inflate a little bit. “Ya see, this here air makes it so the metal is light n’ fluffy.”
“Light and fluffy my rear, this stuff is still heavier than just my skin.” Jahl was in a tavern, sitting next to a young child who almost seemed to be there out of accident, he had been telling the young stranger about his story. It didn’t seem to bother Jahl that someone else knew about him, especially someone he figured he would never see again after he left the next morning.
“Go on, Mister.” called the child enthusiastically.
“Alright. Well, my father taught me how to super-heat and air steel, but it’s definitely not easy, not even remotely.”
“Boy! Why won’t you just beat that metal and stop acting like your mother?” Jahl was having a hard time beating the dense steel into any shape at all, partly because orange steel is harder than red, but also because he was a young child and his muscles hadn’t developed yet.
“I’m trying, just leave me alone!” Jahl was tired and he was not up to working, he had already made his father upset once that day and he wasn’t making things any better, “Give me a freaking break!” Jahl didn’t have time to be sorry for what he said, he only had enough time to give a small yelp as the fist of his father came crashing into his jaw, giving him the requested break, two of them. The surgeon told his father that he had a fractured jaw and a broken arm from landing amongst some random smithing tools, but his father would have none of it. “My boy is a man, he can take it, and I’m not babying him and letting him out of work.” That’s how the conversation began, but it ended in Jahl’s father punching the physician and leaving with Jahl.
“Most of my life was like that, every time I did something wrong, I found out that it was wrong. Especially when I started to carve wood…” Jahl looked at the kid next to him, staring at the boy’s demeanor and appearance. He was an innocent and spunky kid, but he wore nothing but burlap rags, barely enough to discern that he wore anything at all under the mud that covered him. “I was fifteen when I first started to carve. My friend had given me his knife before he moved away.”
The fifteen-year-old Jahl stared out of the wood and sod house window out at the dark sky. It was a new moon, and there was no light other than the glow of his father’s heating pit. His father always worked late, no matter what, but Jahl was allowed to go home early because of his mother’s asking. Jahl climbed down clumsily from the hammock he was charged to stay in and wandered outside, climbing past his sleeping mother. Slowly, he made his way over to the only tree in the yard, the dog wood, there he sat during the day and used to read a little, but now it seemed like he never had the time to do it. Gently he brushed his hands across the ground to feel for anything that he might sit on, it was there that he found a dead limb of the dog wood. He plopped down and pulled the stick comfortably into his hand. It was smooth, but he could not tell the color. He pulled out the brittle knife and began to stroke the wood with it, making small grooves and various cuts blindly.
“I still have that stick that I carved that night,” Jahl said, reaching into his leather satchel, “I don’t know why I keep it.”
“OOH A GIRRAFE!” Beamed the little boy as Jahl pulled out the carved stick. It was nothing special, just a five inch long dog wood branch that was nicked and shaved, it didn’t even look remotely like a giraffe, but none-the-less, Jahl said, “Wow, you have quite an imagination there, kiddo. Here why don’t you take it, I’m sure I won’t need it.” Jahl gladly handed the stick over to the kid and watched for a bit, watched the child pretend to be in some far distant plain with lions and giraffes.
“Yeah, I loved carving then, and do now, but it didn’t put me very high on my father’s list of people to be nice to.” The kid wasn’t listening, but Jahl continued on anyway.
“Boy! you’ve been carving again, haven’t ya!” Jahl was finally getting used to the heat in the room and retaliated, “Shut up, dad. I can do what I want!”
“Not while you live in MY HOUSE!” His father was furious now, his face bubbling and red like the steel that Jahl was working.
“I told you to shut the hell up, idiot!” Thud: that was the last sound Jahl had heard before he woke up to the sensation of being upside-down. He was upside-down, hanging from his ankles. But he had been here before and still knew how to get down. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out his rusting knife. It took effort but he finally brought his battered body back down to earth, where he found that his head wasn’t the only thing beaten the night before, not by a long shot. He hated that man with an extreme passion, with every fiber of his being, he loathed the thought of being the smith’s offspring, he had even disowned and forgotten his name.
“Mister, Mister!” came the sound of the young child, pulling his attention back into the present. “You’re black thingy is glowing and it’s scaring me!” Jahl looked down at his left knee, the Onyx globe releasing a black light. “Yeah, don’t be scared, it’s only telling you that I’m upset, that’s it.” Jahl really had no clue, but he figured that’s what would happen when he got so worked up over his past.
“Some things aren’t meant to be heard at your age, kid.” Jahl cut in, bringing himself back into the conversation, “and because of that, you shouldn’t hear the rest.” Jahl thought of how horrid it would be for the child to hear the horrible events that had happened afterwards, about the mask that drove him insane and caused him to commit the horrible act, yet the same mask used to start the fire that created his armor. His kind of story was not meant to be retold, and he realized that no one was an exception, not even his mother who had died that very night.
“Come on, mister, tell me, tell me!” the kid was anxious to hear the rest of the story, so Jahl made an ending up.
“Then one day, I left, I left everything behind and headed out here, and this is where I am to this very day.” Not exactly true, but not all false either. Jahl felt a sense of closure about the conversation, but the child was not through.
“Why didn’t you just tell them to leave? I told my mommy to leave and I haven’t seen her in a long time, if it worked for me, then it should work for you!”
Jahl then realized that the kid didn’t work and it wasn’t mud all over him, it was grime from the streets, and he had no one to go to. “Not my problem,” he reassured himself. His horrible attitude was returning after reviewing all that had happened. “Get, kid, you shouldn’t be here anyway.”
“Bye, bye, Mister!” came the call from the id as he took his ‘giraffe’ and left the bar to some unknown destination. All Jahl could do was look back down at his pint of ale, and watch the scornful look upon his face as the night grew old.