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Basic Information
Character Information
Appearance
The first thing you notice is his height; barely capping six feet, but you are also quick to notice that he rarely stands at his full height. Typically hunched slightly, making himself more slight, less noticeable, less likely to stand out in a crowd, shoulders curled forward and head ducked, unobtrusive. It’s a habit of the meek and timid, you realize, but think little of it. How this man holds himself in the public eye is none of your business.
Mussed russet hair falls just past his shoulders, but you’ve seen him a few times to know his three preferred styles; loose, wild, unkempt, windswept from a breeze of ocean brine, or half-bound, the hair on his crown pulled back from his face to leave the rest falling about his neck and shoulders, or thirdly, completely pulled back and out of the way, either in a loose tail or a haphazard, messy bun. You aren’t sure which you prefer, but again, it is hardly any of your concern.
It isn’t until you are closer to him, perhaps in conversation, that you begin to notice the little things. He is expressive in his mannerisms, a pinch to his dark brow a handsome contrast to the sun-kissed flavor of his skin, a furrow, furtive and fleeting. His eyes, oh, his eyes, rival the color of the roiling, stormy seas. They are far kinder in their depths, however, less likely to drown you and warm and open and welcome.... Yet there is something buried in there, something deep, hidden, something you cannot pinpoint. You choose not to press.
More little things; the scruff of his beard, slightly overgrown, appearing coarse and rasping to the touch. Some days he wears thin, round-rimmed glasses, and some days he doesn’t. The glint of a golden earring catches your eye, pierced through the lobe of his left ear. A charming detail, and when you comment on it his expression warms briefly, a broad smile lighting up those handsome features you are slowly coming to understand.
He won’t tell you where it’s from, but yet again, you do not mind and you do not press.
His style of dress is simple; comfortable trousers and a humble shirt, preferring earthen tones and nothing that could be deemed ‘flashy’ or ‘obtrusive’. Anything to keep him out of the eye of others, as invisible as possible… But it’s a pity, you think; despite his haggard and indiscriminate behavior, you think he could clean up quite well.
Personality
He’s a little bit of everything, and yet nothing at all like what you might imagine when thinking of a book-loving, cat-obsessed tutor along the coasts of Torchline.
Engaging him in discussion reveals that he is a terribly heartfelt and earnest conversationalist. He speaks with profound emphasis, animatedly using his hands and arms to gesticulate as he speaks, rants, or raves about his most recent fancy or latest project. Debate and matching wills is a game he plays well, but only if you catch him on a day where his mood is balanced, calmed, and his troubled heart is into it.
Some days you speak to someone with broad smiles, if not a little sheepish or timid in expression and mannerisms, and other days it is as though you are looking into the face of a wretched, wary stranger, who anxiously stutters and frets and worries, who hunches and hides and deflects. You think, if you would let him, on these days he might just sink into the wood floor of his lodgings and disappear.
Those days are becoming few and far between, but you recognize them all the same.
There are moments - days- where he is not the man you know. He is anxious, aloof, and cold. Where you are accustomed to warm welcomes, a cup of tea, and a comfortable chair to rest in, you are greeted by the face of paranoia and nervousness, followed by a slamming door in your face. Luckily, you know him well enough by now to know that come the following morning he will arrive at your door with feet shuffling in the dirt, wrists rubbing, and meekly apologize for his absolutely ‘abhorrent’ behavior the day before.
Just as you always do, you forgive him, even though this wretched man seems to believe he is far from deserving it.
Despite his meek, soft spoken, earnest self, you know there is a danger in him, a possessive, dangerous anger and a searing desire to protect or defend. Perhaps not a danger on the same level as some residents of Caido, but there is a fervor to him, a wild burning that rages behind blue eyes, and more than once whenever you are around him, you smell smoke. ‘A doused candle,’ he always says whenever you inquire, despite seeing none in the vicinity. Perhaps someday you will press a little deeper, but it never seems to be the right time, and Jacob has always been a notoriously secretive fellow.
There are things you know of him that he wishes you didn’t; small quirks, little details, things that are unimportant and oftentimes lost beneath the larger picture.
He loves cats, but this is easy given the sheer amount of strays that collect around his door, and you are embarrassingly familiar with the 'baby voice' he uses to speak to them in. He checks the locks on his doors four times before bed. He counts, openly, repetitive in a cycle that you realize calms him. You know he has a peculiar fondness for poorly written smut novels. He detests being called 'Jake', and prefers 'Jacob', or 'Ren', or even, Gods have mercy, 'Renny'... But not 'Jake', never 'Jake'.
So, perhaps the locals of Torchline are right when they say he is a little 'moon-touched', a little weird, a little wild, a little unpredictable... But you are alright with that. At least for now.
History
You know he left Torchline at some point when he was younger. He packed a bag of meager supplies- (some dried tack and a waterskin, an extra coat), and you recall that others thought him foolish for leaving home with a bag that seemed so empty and ill-prepared for travel.
You know, of course, that it was reserved space for the many, many books, notes, tomes, journals, pens, and inks that he would gather along his journey and bring home whenever time called him back to familiar shores… And what a journey it was, even though you know not even a single detail of it.
Yet another thing he keeps close to himself. You wonder, briefly, what it might take to reveal these deep secrets of his, hidden beneath eyes of endless pools of profound blue, and a polite, yet humble smile. What things had he seen along his travels? What did he encounter, what did he learn? Because, as you know, for Jacob Renwick - if that is even his name, for you cannot recall if it was the one he was born with - there is nothing more valuable than learning.
OtherA rough estimate of this character's damage potential is as follows:
KQs: 0 PQ+s: 0 Mini Events: 0 SWEs: 0 PQs: 0 Player MP: 0 Halo
Greatwood
Hollowed Grounds
Torchline
Stormbreak
The Draig Cordillera
King's End
Hak Etme
The Feverlands
Oerwoud
The Climb
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