Jack Silvence
| Jack Silvence | |||||||
| Male Human | |||||||
| Player: Stormbringer08 | |||||||
|
| General Information | ||||||||||
| Full Name: | Jack Silvence | |||||||||
| Nicknames: | Various, none seem to stick | |||||||||
| Age: | 55 | |||||||||
| Deity: | Not given to public worship | |||||||||
| Alignment: |
| |||||||||
| Occupation: | Mercenary Captain | |||||||||
| Faction/Rank: | Free League | |||||||||
| Place of Birth: | Faerun | |||||||||
| Physical Attributes | ||||||||||
| Height: | 6'2" | |||||||||
| Weight: | 95kg | |||||||||
| Eyes: | Light Brown | |||||||||
| Hair: | Shoulder length, Black | |||||||||
| Complexion: | Fair | |||||||||
| Physical Build: | Athletic, well muscled | |||||||||
| Physical Features: | Weathered, scarred visage. | |||||||||
| Skills | ||||||||||
| Swordsmanship, traps, locks, haggling, use of magical items, tactics and planning. | ||||||||||
| Equipment and Items | ||||||||||
| An old, worn coat with many magical pockets, inside and out. The crest of the Golden Heron is stitched onto one lapel, while a Free League badge is usually affixed to the other. Occasionally people will catch sight of a hilt poking out from behind his back. The exact blade varies, but it is always some variety of scimitar. When armoured, his golden plates gleam so brightly they can be uncomfortable to look at directly for subterranean creatures, the Golden Heron crest emblazoned on the left breast. They also appear to be self-cleaning. | ||||||||||
Appearance and Personality
Portrait - [1]
A tall, muscular man, Jack gives the impression of someone who has run into more than his fair share of problems. His rough, rugged skin is crisscrossed with a multitude of old battle scars, and the calluses on his palms attest to a life spent working with his hands. He has unkempt shoulder length black hair, a jaw perpetually covered in coarse stubble, and light brown eyes. Jack looks like a man who may once have been passably handsome, but scarring and the passage of time have not been kind on his visage.
His most noticeable feature is the affable expression he usually carries, creasing the skin around his eyes into shallow crow's feet. Combined with the relaxed, easy fashion in which he carries himself, this tends to lend him a somewhat harmless, if odd, guise. He is usually clad in light, loose fitting clothes covered by a worn black coat with a multitude of pockets of varying sizes. Those who have known him for several years are aware that he used to walk with a limp, though he is tight-lipped on how the injury was healed.
Jack seems to be perfectly willing to engage in conversation with strangers if the opportunity presents itself. He becomes quieter in larger groups of unfamiliar people, usually only contributing the odd comment or salient point, preferring to merely observe.
On the occasion that he finds himself in combat he uses scimitars almost exclusively, mostly those with longer, thinner blades. When brought up in conversation, it could be argued that he is a little more enthusiastic than is healthy about the curved swords. His swordsmanship is deft, forgoing elegance and finesse for brutal efficiency.
Behind the scenes, Jack is a logical and practical thinker. Not given to high minded ideals, he does what he believes he must to get whatever job done. He leaves the higher order thinking and research to others, but he is generally able to work his way through more immediate problems. He isn't overly fussed with the wellbeing of people he doesn't know but is steadfast in supporting those he considers friends, willing to put himself through significant danger to ensure their security.
Miscellaneous:
• He seems to own a lot of paraphernalia, both magical and mundane, equally accessible from the pockets of his coat and the pouches of the belt he wears with his armour.
• He tends to make noises during conversation. It just seems to be his way of speaking.
Profession
Jack owns the Golden Heron Company, a medium-sized mercenary company operating largely in the Outlands. He is also a member of the Parliament of Tradegate, the ruling body of the gate town, and an Indep.
//Some general chant about the Herons, which would be known with a DC15 Knowledge: Planes roll, or some time spent in the Outlands
• The group are known to be based out of a large walking castle, occasionally seen traversing the Concordant Opposition. They primarily operate in the Outlands, but have also been seen around Sigil.
• Members can be identified by the black and gold garb they favour, and the emblem embossed upon their armour. While by and large are a rather genial seeming bunch, they are usually seen heavily armed and armoured.
//Some more specific chant, which would be known with a DC20 Knowledge: Planes roll, or a lot of time spent in the Outlands
• The exterior of the Castle is made of slate-grey stone, with windows appearing at odd intervals, all open. It is several stories tall, with towers protruding from the corners. Battlements line the roof, with several very threatening-looking barrels poking through the crenellations. It moves on sturdy metallic legs, apparently driven by the magic of the Castle. Any who approach without invitation are met with stern faces peering down from the battlements, or by a brass golem on patrol
• Word is that the Golden Heron mercenaries number in the hundreds, but it is hard to see how they could all fit comfortably within the Castle walls. Apparently a couple of prominent planeswalkers are also members.
• The company currently seems to be in the employ of the city of Tradegate, during the fiendish invasion of the Outlands. The Herons have already defended the city once from an all-out attack involving a giant demonic siege-weapon, and were also noted worked with the Planes Militant against the demons (until their recent defeat)
Further Chant on the Golden Herons - [2]
Chant
Jack has been around a while, and there is a little chant floating around about him or his activities:
• Has worked for most of the Sigilian factions at one point or other, including various Factors and Factotums
• Prior to his entry to the Parliament, forged alliances with several Tradegate merchant houses. It sounds as if he has done a lot of work in the town, even prior to the Herons being hired exclusively by the Parliament.
• Was hired by the Harmonium to lead one of the two teams tasked with removing the black slaad Ventrax from the Cage
• Beat the Alliance of Change to capture and unearth the Castle that has since become the headquarters of the Golden Heron Mercenaries
• Destroyed a competing mercenary company in the Outlands - the Hounds of the Abyss
• When the slaadi were occupying the Cage, trained a number of the Free League Cartel Enforcers and fortified the Bazaar against attack. Whilst the Enforcers have since been disbanded, some have come to work as Herons, and others have joined the Peacekeepers
• Some think he had something to do with ejecting the Harmonium from their recent occupation of the Market Ward. No-one seems to be provide any specifics without sounding wildly outlandish, but many have a sneaking suspicion he was involved -somehow-, even if it isn't clear how.
• Had something to do with an altercation between S&J Transport and the Godsmen, though again it's unclear exactly how or why
• Word is, his nemeses are... the dretch? Seems odd, for such an accomplished killer to resent the small, blubbery things. Perhaps they're just pulling your leg.
History
Beginnings
Jack was born to a nondescript single woman on the Prime of Toril, who had
neither means nor any real desire to raise a son. She paid him little heed, and at
a very young age Jack left home to become a part of one of the minor pickpocket
gangs in the city. He showed little aptitude for relieving people of their
possessions, and so it was unsurprising when news got around that he was
caught while trying to pinch the purse of Captain Gareth Wolf, leader of the
Farstrider Legion, a band of relatively skilled mercenaries, well known in the area
for the feats they accomplished on behalf of those who could afford their
exorbitant fee. Mistaking the boy’s ignorance of his identity for bravery, Captain
Wolf decided to hire him.
Jack was put to work on a farmstead owned by the Legion, where the agricultural
endeavours hid its real purpose as a safehouse and storehouse. Nevertheless,
the work was real enough, and so Jack toiled in the fields for the next decade of
his life. Life at the farmstead was pleasant enough despite the long hours and
harsh conditions, and he managed to pick up several tricks from the members of
the Legion, despite their unpleasant, unsavoury nature.
As time wore on Jack began to tire of the repetitive, often dull life he was living,
and so after working on the farm for much of his short life, he decided to move
on and see the rest of the world. One night he packed his bags and left, taking
with him a small portion of the Legion’s gold and a long, slender scimitar
belonging to one of the mercenaries, with the name Liber inscribed along its
length.
He spent the next few years wandering around the countryside, taking on odd
jobs, infuriating the powerful fathers of young women, and generally making a
nuisance of himself.
While enjoying this new life, he eventually decided that it was unsustainable, on
the grounds that if he kept pissing off this many important people in this many
towns and settlements, eventually he would have nowhere to live. With this in
mind, he took up a job as a farm-hand on a property near the small hamlet of Vir
Arens, a village specifically chosen for its lack of powerful men with nubile
daughters. He quickly became somewhat of a character in the local community,
being a stalwart of the local tavern and renowned for his oft-mischievous antics.
A couple of years after he settled in the town a birthday party was thrown for
him, and as so often happens to a party that Jack is involved in organising, things
got a little out of hand. He woke up the next morning in a strange corridor with
an incredible hangover and absolutely no memory of much of the night previous.
He stumbled into the closest door and found himself in what looked like a
bustling tavern. He collapsed onto what looked like a bar, next to what looked
like a flaming dwarf, and demanded another drink as he alternated between
rueing the day he was born and wondering where the hell he was, how the hell
he had got there, and why the hell he wasn’t wearing any undergarments.
This odd awakening signalled the start of Jack's membership of the planar
community, and residence in the World Serpent Inn, a transitive plane
resembling an ancient tavern with a morass of constantly shifting back rooms
and corridors containing portals to primes, inner and outer planes. Here he
became a member of the local adventurer population, learning how to use the
scimitar he'd stolen from his previous employers. In time he became known as a
capable tactician and a more than competent warrior, and in his youthful
recklessness managed to get himself into quite a number of tough situations,
surviving with a combination of skill, planning, good friends and an unfair
amount of luck.
The Planes
Here he made two friends in particular, a tiefling wizard named Kennet, and his
aasimar girlfriend Gennie. Unknown to Jack, the wizard had previously escaped
from a facility on Dis, and the infernal noble who's dominion he had come under
wanted him back. Jack was drawn into the conflict, once falling under the
domination of the baatezu for an extended period of time, culminating in him
killing Kennet, though subsequently he was revived and the domination was
ended. After a number of encounters, it was determined that it was too difficult
to best the high ranking pit fiend, with the with the large reservoir of resources
he commanded. Thus they split up, Jack acquired a medium-to-small spelljammer
from his mercane business associate (which he named Necessity) and
disappeared for a time, hiding himself in a quieter corner of Ysgard.
After a time he re-emerged, and after spending a few months gathering a group
of like-minded planeswalkers and hiring a crew to fly his ship, he embarked on a
new life as a mercenary. This change of occupation proved a success, lasting
around ten years. The outfit was kept small, and so they were not hired for
campaigns or sieges, but rather smaller scale operations like protection,
assaulting facilities, finding specific items or the like. As time wore on, and their
skills became better known they would occasionally be hired to consult, either Jack on tactics, or one of the others on magical matters. On the side he ran a
small mercantile business, keeping exotic, rare or powerful items which he found
or bought in his travels.
Jack enjoyed this period of his life, living comfortably with enough work to do to
keep him entertained. Though as with all things, it wasn't to last indefinitely.
After a job in the City of Brass, the ship was flying low over the outlands when it
was assailed by a baatezu strike team. They were high ranking fiends, and the
ship's crew were half-drunk in celebration of their recent endeavours. The fight
lasted a while, but in the end Jack was captured and the drives on the Necessity
damaged, sending it crashing down into the foliage.
Incarceration
It turned out that the fiendish lord Jack had thought himself done with had had
little luck finding his original quarry, and so had again turned his attention to Jack
to provide a lead. After a brief interrogation it was determined that he knew
nothing of interest, having had no contact with the man since they parted ways.
On the chance he might prove useful in the future Jack was transferred to a
prison facility on Dis, incarcerated with other baatezu who had fallen from favour.
He was given his own cell with a small cot, and as the only mortal prisoner
quickly became an object of interest. He responded to this attention by
withdrawing into himself, becoming quiet and reserved. The first attempts to
rough him up by fellow inmates ended poorly for the assailants, though they
were quick to claim it was more poor luck than any skill on Jack's part. He also
drew the attention of the Chief Warden, a lower ranking pit fiend who had an
interest in the art of "persuasion". Discovering another disadvantage as the only
mortal prisoner, he formed the backbone of the baatezu's research. Many of
these projects involved disfiguration or dismemberment and so he was regularly
rejuvenated with regeneration magic to keep him in good shape for further
testing. One particular experiment involved the drawing of infernal runes on an
injured body part. These runes were linked to the fiend who inscribed them,
fuelled by their essence, and were designed to prevent healing, magical or
otherwise. The nature of the runes was such that in theory, they could only be
removed by the author, or would fade with his death. The warden's attempts met
with modest success, runes left inscribed on Jack's left thigh, right eye and left
shoulder in order to test permanence.
He endured in this fashion for several years, fading into obscurity as his novelty
diminished and his sessions with the warden reduced, then ceased. When he was
acknowledged at all, it was jeeringly, as "Mort" the human. Jack remained quiet,
biding his time. He was confident, as he usually was, that he could win, he just
required the opportunity. His gaolers treated him with increasing contempt, often
entering his cell for maintenance with very little caution. After all, what had they
to fear from a man who only had one arm, one leg and one eye working?
However as tends to happen with experiments things weren't going quite as
planned, and this gave Jack his chance. The runes weren't perfect and
unbeknownst to all his left arm was beginning to work quite well. His leg was also
healing more than intended, allowing him to get around at a quick walk.
Jack managed to hide his improving condition and eventually, with guard
routines memorised and the chief warden away on business, he broke out of his
cell by picking the lock with a couple of stolen nails. He made his way through
the prison avoiding stronger patrols, taking on lone guardsmen and accruing a
small arsenal as he went. Eventually he found himself at his destination, the
unoccupied office of the chief warden. Rifling through his belongings, Jack found
what he was looking for, a scroll case. He grabbed a sheaf of fly spells, only
pausing for an unexpected bounty. First, a ring of fire resistance, which would
make his life easier in the rather warm plane, and the fiend's use-name,
Gharganal, on the head of a sheet of routine orders, which Jack tucked into his
pants before trying the scrolls. He got it on the third try, kicking the window open
before diving through it, soaring out into Dis as alarms began sounding behind
him.
Freedom
Avoiding pursuit, he made his way back through the planes, seeking asylum back
on his home plane of Toril where he then resided for the better part of a decade.
He supported himself as a travelling merchant, moving around Faerun with a cart
and a couple of old nags as he tried to rehabilitate himself after his incarceration.
Fitness returned relatively quickly, and the rune on his shoulder faded on its own.
A couple of years later the rune on his eye was removed by a cleric at the Spires
of the Morning, the temple to Lathander in Waterdeep. The rune on his leg
proved to be the most resilient of the three, all those whom Jack consulted
confirming that there was nothing within their power, the rune being intrinsically
linked with the life force of Gharganal. Incidentally, they also agreed that it
seemed the constant use of regenerative magic had a side effect, slowing his
aging a little, helping to retain more of his vigour and make him look younger
than he truly was.
So, having exhausted his options for healing on the prime, Jack found an portal
to Sigil and returned to the planes, older, slower, and maybe a little wiser.
Portrait sourced from http://yamaorce.deviantart.com/art/Cleric-comm-366097029, edit by WiNG