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!
Mastered Item:
Type: Light | Style: Other | Level: Mastered
La Verbena | A personal skyboat (schooner) capable of travelling at 2x wagon speeds over most types of terrain. Can accommodate 2 people onboard during flight.
“Mother fuckers sure are messy. Just look at all this shit!” was an anthem and retort towards companions as they shuffled down the long and familiar stretch of tiki torches and sand. Melita probably would’ve liked to pretend she hadn’t contributed to the multitudes of debris and refuse around – but shit, LongNight was a time of drunken buffoonery and half the time she forgot.
Regardless, the higher tides had seemingly swept up more of the glasses, paper, driftwood, bottles, and left them all behind on the dunes. Shaking her head, the smuggler snagged at a few near her feet, hissing and complaining to Fangorn and Sila the entire time. The former, for his part, managed to grab some paper with his vines, while the dragon escorted them all with a few high tunes above, puffs of smoke unfurling from her nose.
“And you’re gonna set fire to all of it,” Melita warned the bronze lizard, as if this would bother anyone in the vicinity. One by one, she started piling portions to be torched and notched ablaze, while others would probably fair better being recycled.
Pay a little more attention to the healing power of incandescent rage
Lights go out again You stroke my pain and tempt my trouble Seek how we pretend
Visiting Torchline was a welcome reprieve from the endless storms plaguing Stormbreak, and despite the potential for monsoons, so far Noe's trip had been blessedly dry and sunny. On this particular day, the girl wandered the beach alone, walking along a piece of driftwood with her arms outstretched to the sides. It was the driftwood that she noticed first: more than she'd ever seen on the usually pristine beaches. Then it was the glasses and bottles, which she vaguely acknowledged as a potential threat to her bare feet, if any of them were broken. Finally, she realized that paper and other refuse was littered throughout it all. She stopped in her tracks, blinking in the sun, and took a good look around. The beach was positively filthy.
There was a woman nearby who seemed to be cleaning up, accompanied by a dragon and a... something? that Noe couldn't quite figure out. It was definitely alive, but she'd never seen another companion like it. Strange. Still, Noe wouldn't feel right about just leaving the stranger to pick up alone - not when the beach was in such a state. So she sauntered over, snagging a few bits and pieces to throw away as she went, and, upon appearing next to the stranger, said, "Man, LongNight here must have been lit."
But we're not friends and we're not lovers We're just trouble, we're just trouble So tempt my trouble
Mastered Item:
Type: Light | Style: Other | Level: Mastered
La Verbena | A personal skyboat (schooner) capable of travelling at 2x wagon speeds over most types of terrain. Can accommodate 2 people onboard during flight.
Fangorn, dutiful and wily, gathered the paper and refuse in a nice little collective pile before beginning his usual growl and waving of vines to indicate another’s approach. Melita turned her head, not recognizing the individual, and probably would’ve kept right on going, presuming a tourist, had the younger woman not stepped almost immediately beside her. Eyeing her up and down, mostly for threats, she grabbed another top of a glass bottle, arching a crimson brow. “Oh. Yeah. It was,” came on a feral grin thereafter, presumptions of challenges and nothing more as she sauntered down the beach.
With her free hand, her fingers wrapped around a large portion of drywood, and began the process all over again, adding to the vampire gourd’s pile. Uncertain how else to broach the subject, and uncertain of this passerby, she tilted her head vaguely. “Do I know you? You from around here?”
Pay a little more attention to the healing power of incandescent rage