A rogue at heart and in life, Jack has been dodging trouble and rewriting Torchline’s rules for as long as most can remember. Though his slight, rugged exterior might seem easy to overlook in the crowded alleys of Haulani, a sharper look reveals a man as dangerous as he is enigmatic. With an infamous reputation and razor-sharp wit, matched with eyes that see and say more than most can handle, Jack's real weapon lies not in his stance but in his piercing blue gaze—and a telepathic edge no one knows about. Recent endeavours—like romancing Torchline's queen and trading favours for children with Safrin—show that while Jack may lack a conventional moral compass, he’s bound only by his own ambitions.
Congratulations, Jack!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
07-31-2021, 04:28 PM (This post was last modified: 07-31-2021, 04:33 PM by Wessex.)
I will stand by you forever; you can take my breath away
A dark, long shadow skims silently through the mist, suddenly banking to the left as if tugged by some invisible string. She knows where she’s going and keeps the straight line, an eerie screee muffled off the white-grey blanket. But Wessex hears it. She feels it, and turns to wait for her heart-and-soul to arrive. Unfortunately for Loki, she’s gotten just a tad too big to perch on Wessex’s shoulders any more, so the dragon zeroes in on the demigod’s feet, a cheeky reprimand for leaving her behind earlier.
And the Wraith allows herself to be knocked over, taking the impact of cat-sized dragon in good fun, and exaggerating Loki’s impact- just to puff her ego up a bit.
Not that the Loki’s ego needed to be puffed; she is, after all, the Wraith’s companion. In this case, the apple doesn’t far fall from the tree. The black dragon play-attacks her bonded, climbing up her legs and gently scrabbling at her with gentle claws, wings and legs spread to try and ‘keep’ the General pinned.
Neither of them see the angry eyes watching them from the fog-shrouded Oerwoud.
and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
To the Wilds he goes, once again, exploring and playful – following a stream of pumpkins as quietly as he can (and much to his pleasure, he’s kept himself hidden quite well). It’s almost like a practice of sorts, one that has him slipping through the trees and the vines, the fields and the valleys, all following the steady stream to wherever it is they’re heading.
Ah, but then something distracts them and Varus knows that it isn’t him. Their attentions are on something else, focused intensely on a duo of sorts beyond the bushes. And Varus? Well, he can’t help but to approach from the opposite side, watching curiously until he spies just what’s going on.
He’s not sure he’s ever been happier to see anyone, though, grinning wide and ignoring the pumpkins for the moment as his arms spread wide and he slips through the bushes on the opposite side. “Well if it isn’t my favorite dragon and her keeper?”
I will stand by you forever; you can take my breath away
The sound of footsteps pulls the duo from their private moment, two heads simultaneously whipping towards where it seems like the person - or thing - may be. Loki pushes off Wessex a bit, eyes whirling as she sniffs the air cautiously. She doesn’t seem too alarmed, so the Wraith rises to her elbows and waits. She trusts Loki’s instincts.
They don’t have to wait long, as a familiar figure comes out of the mist-covered jungle, his words prompting an enthusiastic trill from the companion. “Yeaaaah, that’s fair,” the General admits, chuckling as she pushes herself to her feet and dusts whatever may be left on her ass, off. “She’s easily bribeable, though, so you have to keep the praise coming.” Or treats. Or both.
It’s then that she notices the eyes - and there’s a lot of them - peeping out from underneath leaves and in between bushes. “Gods, they're here too?”
and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
The trill of the dragon has Varus’ grin growing wider, approaching fully now as he bends to try and reach for Loki’s neck to give a lovingly nice scratch along her scales. “Oh, that so? Good thing I came prepared.” His gaze lifts to Wessex with a wink, before he’s pulling out a piece of dried meat he’d collected while following the gourds on their trek, moving to hand it to Loki with another little pat.
He draws up fully, casting a glance around the bushes where the eyes sit in before a bright laugh leaves him. “Yeah, they’ve been following you. I was following them and then found you so.” Flashing a bright grin he loosens his shoulders, pulling the daggers from the sides of his hips and legs as he focuses on keeping him, Wessex, and Loki in the center while the pumpkins move to descend. “Whattya say we murder some pumpkins?” He smirks her way before launching a knife right into the hull of the first gourd that steps out.
I will stand by you forever; you can take my breath away
Any attention is good attention, and Loki quickly leaves Wessex for Varus, arching up to meet his hand. Sometimes those scales just get so itchy. And then he pulls out some dried meat, and the waves of happy content coming off her companion almost makes the Wraith’s eyes roll. Loki just laps it all up like the queen she really is.
Until the mood shifts. And Goddess, it is palpable.
Varus draws his blades and Wessex similarly unsheathes her claws. Loki chirrups and whirls around, suddenly alert and blazing, wings flared slightly in preparation for flight. “Yes, please.” the General agrees, as she and her companion move as one - the dragon up and Wessex forward. She slices at a large one, while Loki pounces on something more large-rodent sized, then pumps her wings furiously to gain some height from which to drop the offending vegetable.
and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
The knife sinks into the gourd he’s chosen and he watches from his peripheral as Wessex launches with her and dragon as one to take down a few more. It’s synchronized in a way that Varus is quietly envious of, but he has nothing to say when it comes to utilizing everything at one's disposal. So the knife sinks into the gourd, followed by another, and then Varus is launching himself at his own chosen pumpkin.
In a flash he’s drawing the knives clean through the hissing creatures, drawing up to whirl and throw it at another set, one nailing the edge of its mouth while the other slices straight through a smaller one and plinks into the earth beneath it, the handle warbling with the momentum he’d thrown it with. And then? He’s moving to gather those knives up too.
I will stand by you forever; you can take my breath away
They’ve had time to grow together, to work with each other, whether it’s hunting or sparring or just doing shit around the house sometimes (even if Loki is unhappy with chore day). The impulse of now is easy to synchronize, easy to breathe into and follow.
Loki soars high enough and drops the gourd onto one of its kin, splitting the first wide open and cracking the second. She goes in for the kill, diving down low enough to blast the second and any in the vicinity with a burst of blue-yellow energy, much like their Mother’s aura. Wessex, for her part, has taken to kicking them, the strength of her punts enough for the pumpkins to gain air and then splat on the ground when they land, the point where the ground around the three of them is soon slippery with their combined efforts.
So slick, in fact, that Wessex has a rare moment of clumsiness and falls flat on her ass, feet sliding out from underneath her.
and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
Unsurprisingly, with the years of practice under Varus’ belt when it came to working with others as well as alone, they make a good pair. Wessex and Loki take out a decent amount of gourds while Varus’ knives fly through the air to reach the gourds he’s picked himself. And then, when he manages to take them down and he’s collecting his knives, he’s turning to throw them back at the next set of gourds.
They zip through precisely at the same time Wessex goes down, and there’s a soft chuckle that leaves him as he reaches over with his metal hand to help her up. “A bit slick, huh?” He asks with a wide grin, helping her up where he can before he slips too and nearly does his own rendition of Wessex’s fall. He manages to catch himself, though, not before his legs start to slide out in an awful attempt at the splits, broken up only by the metal hand that digs into the earth he pushes himself back upright with.
08-11-2021, 05:54 PM (This post was last modified: 08-16-2021, 03:24 PM by Wessex.)
I will stand by you forever; you can take my breath away
She’s about to sling back some equally cheeky retort when Varus himself goes down and it ends up turning into a bright laugh. “If you could feel pain, that would have hurt.” Lack of feeling in one’s balls goes both ways - you can’t kick ‘em where it counts and expect it to actually count.
Wessex is pushing herself up right behind him, but her brief stint on the ground gave a particularly small, daring one the opening it needed to try and wrap its vines around her wrist. When there’s a bit of resistance, she whirls around, eyes blazing and lasers suddenly very focused on the little guy. It never really stood a chance, if we’re honest, and soon implodes beneath the heat of her Angry Eyes.
Then Wessex is finally up, pulling a dangling green bit from her wrist and looking quite a mess, but perhaps the three of them have persuaded the gourds that they’re not a group to be trifled with?
and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
There’s a hiss and a laugh that slips from him at her own quick back, a roll of his eyes followed by a roll of his shoulders as he loosens up again. “Can’t feel pain but I can hear my sensors being little dickheads about it.” He shrugs, trying to plant his feet better in the slick mess of pumpkin guts. It doesn’t seem to matter much in his attempts of not getting the goo on him anymore, especially when Wessex’s eyes laser and explode the pumpkin alongside them. It coats his side with more pumpkin guts and he notices that while most of the pumpkins start to run away, there’s two that still remain.
Idiots, he thinks as he pulls the daggers out again, launching the two of them in a quick succession to pelt into the taller of the gourds that head their way. And hopefully, with both of those gourds gone, the two of them would be left alone. One could only hope.
I will stand by you forever; you can take my breath away
There is that - the internal klaxon of their sensors in the background - that little red light that starts whirling in a circle whenever something goes horribly wrong in a military facility. How often it rings in the background, and how thankful she is to have something that will immediately start trying to fix the damage.
Which is pretty minimal right now, nothing her nanites can’t handle. “Think about getting yourself some self-healing,” she say offers as a suggestion. “Does wonders.” Little does she know that his proclivity towards injury is an asset in his relationship - to that matter, little does she know about his relationship, period. Not that it matters either way. Varus handles the last two pumpkins, or so it seems, when all the little ones disappear, a larger one rumbles out of the jungle. Something that might win an award at a state fair, if they had those kinds of things here. The Wraith steps up with a smooth gesture and grabs her chakram, slinging it towards the guardian gourd with a step and a flick of her wrist.
It goes singing through the air towards it, neatly slicing the threat in two.
and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
Her suggestion is the only thing that distracts him away from watching his knife sink into the gourds that trundle their way. It’s a thought he hadn’t even considered, evident in the way his lips purse and his head cocks a bit her way as she absolutely wrecks the larger pumpkins that come out of the jungle around them. And after that? Well, the jungle is quiet and Varus breathes a sigh of relief that he doesn’t need to.
Stepping over to the pumpkins carefully to retrieve his daggers, he turns back to Wessex as he wipes off the goo from the knives onto the leg of his pants, before tucking them back into their respective places. “Speaking of upgrades, actually, I had a chance to talk with Sam about his own. Been working on a list of us and our abilities that we might be able to look over and see who could be paired with who.” A wide fanged grin spreads across his face. “How’s your own research been going?”
I will stand by you forever; you can take my breath away
The chakram comes flying back to her and after Wessex catches it, she wipes the goopy blade on the ground. A good soldier keeps their weapons clean and ready to use at a moment’s notice. Varus does the same while Loki circles overhead, sending a clearly gloating cry towards the retreating pumpkins’s bouncing little butts before landing at the edge of the water and slinking in.
“Not a bad idea,” the Wraith says aloud, and moves towards the mist-covered pool to do the same. Her ear is, however, with Varus, and she keeps the conversation going whilst trying to clean herself up a bit.
“I can probably fill in some of the gaps for you in terms of what upgrades our siblings have. At least for some of them. I’m working on training some of the younger ones - Nikolai and Mabel at least have interest and promise. Azrael is keen to be helpful, but needs a bit of direction. And they all need a push to go to the Voice to start asking for these upgrades.” With a bit of a sigh, she shakes her head.
“Motivation and urgency is really the problem. I don’t know if any research can fix that. But -” and here there’s a twinkle in her eye as she rises and shakes the water from her hands and forearms. “The Voice and I are working on a fucking awesome surprise.” Clearly energized by the idea, there’s no attempt in hiding the delight in their little project.
and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
Confusion flickers in his gaze for a moment at Wessex’s comment made aloud, but he follows the Wraith anyway toward what he realizes soon to be a mist covered pool – a perfect place to take a dip and wash away the pumpkin guts from before. And so he’s more than content to dive toward his favorite dragon as well, unceremoniously shedding his shirt so that he can scrub the pumpkin guts off. He dives in fully, though, rising with hair plastered to the side of his face when his oceanic gaze finds Wessex again. He stretches out to rub the innards of the pumpkins off of his metal arm, scrubbing away at the seams and slits within it for his movement to make sure none of it got stuck. And from this position, Wessex would be able to see the scars that spread out from where the metal arm is attached, as well as the few that dance along his shoulders and arms.
“That would be handy.” He comments by learning what upgrades each Ascended had and where they’d prefer to be settled when war comes. To plan it out beforehand was perhaps one of the better choices they’d made since he’d been awake, and the grin of agreement flashes across his face at the idea of seeking out the Voice for more upgrades – something he needs to do himself as well.
He nods, humming thoughtfully as he still scrubs. “Perhaps a chat with them all, like a meeting of sorts to kind of add to the urgency of it.” Shoulders rise and fall in a shrug before his gaze levels on her again. “What? Wanna share?” He asks, his grin matching hers in the excitement that flickers across it.