[INDENT]Name: Jacques Merveilleux [JH-AK MER-VEIL-YOU]
Race: Human
Age: 18
Alignment: CN
Deity: None
Class: Rogue
[INDENT]
In the squalid alleys of Krandor a boy is born to a fishwife and a sailor, a child destined for great things or perhaps none at all. Though the child’s destiny has yet to reveal itself, misfortune took it upon itself to smile upon the boy. His mother died upon birth and the father was called to sea. Where then would the child be left? Who would take care of him?[/INDENT]
Jacques spent his afternoon languidly watching the acrobats navigate the distances between the various pillars inside the massive tent. He dreamed of becoming one of them, dazzling the crowd with his death-defying stunts and feeding off of that adrenaline rush as one takes the ultimate leap. He imagined himself in the performers’ shoes and as he took that imaginary leap, he immediately fell flat on his face. His day-dreaming was cut short by an aged human female who walked with a cane – his Aunt Genevieve.
“Get on down here and sell the goats! You bloody slacker!” yelled the old lady, waving her cane and pointing it at Jacques.Jacques sighed and went down to meet his aunt who gave Jacques a quick slap on the buttocks with the cane. He trudged on to the market with hunched shoulders and a frown on his face. His reprieve just ended and he had more work to do. Not like he had anything better to do anyway.
Fort Wayfare teemed with people of all shapes and sizes going about their day-to-day activities and Jacques wore a grin as he surveyed the masses with a predatory look on his face. A make-shift stall lined with uneven branches of wood lined the perimeter of his stall and within that pen dwelled his flock. Barrels full of shrubbery were stacked neatly near the storefront and he sat upon one and thus began his work.
“Come one, come all! Healthy and plump goats fed with the finest of shrubbery!” shouted Jacques at the top of his lungs, no small feat for a boy of 16.
Of course, the goats were never really plump nor were they healthy, but they seemed normal by his standards. A rather unwitting passerby happened to cross his stall and an opportunity for profit presented itself to Jacques. The man wore fine garbs and a pouch full of Trues jiggled near his belt buckle. Jacques stood upright and began his attempt at sales talk.
“Good day, kind patron! Fancy a plump goat? 25 Trues and this one can be yours!”Jacques gestures to the goat with a thin tree branch, caressing the meatier parts of its body.
“They don’t seem healthy nor will they make for good mutton and yet you expect me to pay 25 Trues for one? That’s too expensive.” The man raised a brow and gave a snort of derision upon inspection of the goat.
“Dear Sir, you fail to see the magic of our breeding. They may look thin but their meat is full of flavor and nutrients! Come and have a look.”Jacques gestures to the goats feeding at the far end of his stall. The patron squinted slightly and he shot a bemused look at Jacques upon seeing what the goats were feeding on.
“And this is your magic? You feed them salt and shrubs?”“Let me enlighten you, good sir. Do you like salt?”The patron nodded once.
“Salt adds flavor does it not?”The patron nodded once more.
“If I put salt on meat, will it improve the taste?”The patron nods again, his perplexed face forming a slight smile.
“With that logic, would it not be a good idea to feed the cattle salt to improve the taste of their meat?”The patron hesitated for a moment but then he nodded in response.
“I see your point. Very well, I’ll take the two of your finest goats. The ones at the back seem healthier and more flavorful than the others, I’ll take those.”The patron relinquished a large sum of coins from his pouch and dragged the two goats with a hungry look on his face. Jacques chuckled and smiled as he counted his coins for a fine sale he made regardless of the bollocks. These are hard times and survival meant fooling a few well-fed folks. It was a matter of convenience since he was required to survive on a daily basis. It’s not like he stole their money, they still got what they asked for hence the equivalent exchange.
Jacques went home with a sack of Trues yet he was dour and somber. He slowly marched on to his aunt’s small home and as he neared the domicile, he felt a pang in his heart as if his doom was at hand. It was his daily routine for years yet he still could not get accustomed to the fear and panic. Upon delivery of the earnings he would be given a bowl of broth for supper and a lecture on his place in the world.
Aunt Genevieve and Jacques sat near the fire with the former on her rocking chair and the latter on the rug. Jacques listened quietly to his aunt as he played with a rusty dagger, the only memory he has left of his father.
“Your mother’s death was a tragic event, one that you must pay for dearly, child. I promised your father that I would take care of you until he returns from sea, though I doubt he will, it’s been 12 years already and he’s yet to return. So I’m left with you and I so dearly value your service to me as a son.”Jacques nodded absent-mindedly as he eyed the fire, slipping into one of his dream-like states of nostalgia, imagining himself as one of the acrobats in the gypsy troupe. He came to and immediately gave a response equivalent to the amount of love in his aunt’s words.
“I would be nowhere without you Aunt Genevieve, I owe you my life.” “And you are smart to know it, boy. Now off to bed” she exclaimed with a tap of her cane.
Jacques scrambled for his ramshackle bed of broken down wood and ragged rolls of cloth deep in the basement of the house, and Aunt Genevieve lovingly locked the door as she wished him a good night’s rest. Thoughts percolated in his mind, thoughts of freedom and of escape. Soon he would leave his derelict world along with Aunt Genevieve’s supposed notion of love and forge himself a better living on his own free from such constraints.
Such thoughts weren’t foreign to him and he could have escaped Aunt Genevieve’s grasp if he wanted. He had the capacity to do so and it was just that he was afraid of the world’s many dangers. On occasion he would toy with the lock on his room in an attempt to better know its mechanics so that he can escape at the dead of night. Through years of accumulated practice, he would sneak out of the house and watch the acrobats perform at night. Notions of escape never really occurred to him until one day when the he reached the precipice.
It was just like any other day for Jacques, boring and lacking in sales, but he was about to get a taste of excitement in the form of five very familiar individuals heading his way – former customers of his. He regarded them in the same jovial manner though it wasn’t reciprocated.
“Greetings fair folks, fancy a goat or two? I take it that the previous ones were to your liking hence your presence here?” “You sold us starving goats bereft of any meat and flavor! We want our money back!” exclaimed a woman in a brown dress, a local proprietor of export products.
The others chimed in with their demands and complaints and Jacques slowly stepped up on his barrel/podium. He maintained a calm disposition and regarded the complainants with a bow.
“Distressing as your complaints may be, I’m afraid we’re adopting a 'No Returns’ policy here. If you wish to claim your money, I would like my goats in exchange, intact and in the same condition prior to the sale.”Jacques teased them with a smile. The complainants fell silent and shot him with angry looks.
“Obviously you’re all dissatisfied; perhaps we can come to some sort of compromise?”Jacques was sweating like a pig amidst the crowd and to further complicate things for him, one of the complainants called in some men, a pair of hired thugs no doubt. The two thugs were slowly making their way toward Jacques, a signal that his time was running out.
“It saddens me to know that you’re all dissatisfied with my services. In order to better reciprocate your needs, I offer you the remnants of my humble flock. With that, I bid you a good day and may our paths never cross again!”With that final statement, Jacques leapt into the pen and pushed the barrels of shrubs into the crowd. With the barrels tumbling into the crowd as a diversion, Jacques took the time needed to escape through the back of the pen by easily dismantling the thin uneven branches; his poverty was a boon in this case. With the advantage of a head start, he used the masses of people to elude his assailants as he made his way to the tent of the gypsy troupe hoping to seek refuge.
Panting heavily, he hid behind a stack of crates and barrels until the coast was clear. Conveniently enough, his location allowed him to view the performers inside the tent ever so partially and he basked in their splendor, lost in awe of the dazzling sight. He immediately regretted lapsing for the moment.
“You’re not getting away this time!” said the brusque thug as he grabbed Jacques by the collar and tossed him aside.
“Please, no! I’ll pay you all back! Every last piece of True! Just don’t hurt me!” wailed Jacques.
In response, the thug planted a swift right hook on Jacques face, and then tossed him in front of the angry crowd of customers. A man wearing fine robes calmly stepped forward from the crowd and addressed Jacques in a calm manner.
“We don’t want your cattle and most importantly, we have no time for your games, boy. We just want the substantial amount of money that you stole from us. These are very hard times and you of all people should know that Trues are a very valuable commodity nowadays.”Panting, sweating, and aching from the treatment, Jacques was stricken with fear and he froze momentarily before even attempting to speak.
“I don’t have your money and even if I did, I won’t give it up so easily since you claim that Trues are a very valuable commodity. Surely you can see the logic in that, dear patron?”Jacques fashioned a wry grin with some of his teeth covered in blood. The thug moved to plant another punch on Jacques. He closed his eyes and cringed.
He blinked for a moment and to his relief, the thug lay unconscious on the ground, a slender figure stood in front of Jacques instead. It was one of the acrobats, an elven one for that matter, and she was garbed in form-fitting clothing dyed with hues of black and purple. Two others came soon after and helped me up. The elven maiden gave the crowd a sharp and ominous look of composed anger and her voice had a commanding tone to it. She was fearsome yet beautiful at the same time; Jacques was awestruck as if hit by an enchantment.
“Lay another finger on the boy and I will see to it that you all pay dearly for such atrocities.”The crowd stood silent amidst the lashing of the elf maiden.
“I take it that you all understood me, if that is the case, you may all leave now.”The crowd stood there still, frozen with fear.
“Leave!” cried the elf maiden with such ferocity and the crowd quickly dispersed.
She turned to face Jacques and her expression softened with a smile. She, along with the rest of her companions ushered the bruised Jacques inside their tent, offering food, water, and bandages. They treated Jacques like a guest and for the first time in his life, he lived in luxury.
Jacques was feasting on a turkey leg when the elf maiden started the conversation.
“What is your name, child?” she said smiling still.
“Please, Madame, I am no longer a child and I don’t really know why people keep referring to me as that. You may call me Jacques, which is what my mother named me.”The elf maiden laughed slightly.
“Pardon me then, Jacques, but I consider your kind as 'children’. You see, I am 220 years old, probably the oldest in the troupe.”Jacques froze in his feeding frenzy and became slack-jawed.
“I am Adania, eldest instructor in the gypsy troupe. Tell me, why did those people try to beat you up?”Jacques came to and immediately composed himself by washing down the turkey meat with some water.
“Well they claimed that I owed them money, which was preposterous really since I barely even have money for myself. I’m a merchant you see, and I sell baubles. They didn’t like the ones I sold them and so they wanted their money back. Quite rude and unfair, is it not?”Jacques then resumed his feeding frenzy.
“I can see that. You are most fortunate then to have been seen by my companion; otherwise you would probably be crippled beyond repair. ”Jacques nodded absent-mindedly.
“Now, where do you live? You are our responsibility for the time being and I would very much like to see you get home safe and sound.”Jacques froze momentarily and downed his cup.
“Like I said earlier, I’m a merchant, a travelling merchant for that matter! I wander the roads of the Brelin Kingdom in search of promising patrons. I recently lucked out when I sold my last stock of baubles to those folks earlier. I thought it was a fine sale, but they thought differently. I lost all my coins trying to run from them and yet they still expect me to cough up some Trues! Hard times are upon us indeed.”Adania nodded once and pursed her lips, Jacques cut through her concentration with a notion of his own.
“If it’s not an imposition, I would very much like to at least stay with your gypsy troupe since I have no place else to go. I promise to pull my own weight and help out, if you only give me the chance.”Adania stared at him, her lips still pursed as if deep in thought. Jacques was no longer feeding on the meat and his expression bore a frown with watery eyes.
“I’ve no relatives left, no money, and I’ve got a band of angry folks nearby just waiting to lynch me. Please consider my request, Lady Adania.”The elf maiden’s pursed lips formed a smile and she nodded slowly.
“We’re always on the lookout for promising admissions into our little family. Very well, you will train with us and pull your weight as a trainee. We make for Krandor in two days so you’d best prepare yourself for the trip.”Jacques eyes widened and he wore a sincere smile. He spoke no more and resumed his feeding frenzy.
“Welcome to the (Revel)."Thus began his journey as part of the traveling gypsy troupe and there he learned the basics of being an acrobat. He practiced during the night and worked during the day as part of the clean-up crew. Adania became one of his tutors and she taught him a wide array of reflexive stunts and so much more.
The elf maiden was a being that had knowledge on the Al’Noth and yet was not of the Al’Noth, a perplexing notion for Jacques to grasp but he soon learned that individuals need not be spellweavers to have a grasp on the Al’Noth. If one was unable to utilize the Al’Noth, the solution was simple: find something that has an attachment to Lucinda and use it, if you can. This Jacques learned through many trials that utilized scrolls and wands that bore cantrips. Such trials usually ended badly although on some fortunate occasions, Jacques manages to not set something ablaze.
He travelled with the (Revel) for many a year and wandered the roads, towns, and cities of Mistone that admitted them. He was content with his life as a travelling performer and he found new highs among his new peers. Ideas of escape seldom formed in his mind until one day when he came across a familiar sight.
The gypsy troupe had returned to Fort Wayfare as part of their seasonal migrations. It had been almost two years since Jacques had left his Aunt Genevieve along with his troubles. He was never fond of digging too deep in the past but such a momentous occasion was an exception. This yearning to see his aunt compelled him to do so even though he held not much love for his aunt, he was curious nonetheless.
He returned to his ramshackle house and it was in the same condition as it was before. He entered the house and found her aunt sitting in her rocking chair near the fire as if he never left at all. His aunt fashioned a grim visage and aged only ever so slightly. She shot him a look full of anger the moment she heard the door creak open.
“You have quite the nerve to return here. You think you can just leave like that and expect a place to return to? Where have you gone off now then?”Jacques’ normally jovial behavior was pacified by his aunt’s angry jibes. He reverted back to his childhood and the fear returned.
“I... joined the (Revel) and we travelled Mistone for two years. I learned a lot from them and they paid me rather well, at least, well enough for me.”The grim visage of Aunt Genevieve remained as she looked at Jacques appraisingly. She then shakes her head in disapproval.
“So you’re mooching off of them just like what you did with me. You’re very good at that, child. Perhaps soon you’ll find a rich noble lady and after she’s garbed you, fed you, and showered you with love, you’ll leave her just like that. When will you ever learn to grow up and fend for your own?”Aunt Genevieve was furious and she quivered in her rocking chair, staring daggers at Jacques.
Jacques simply froze.
He was equally mad and he took a step forward, pointing a finger at Aunt Genevieve.
But he ran away instead.
He ran as far as he can and into the woods, resting and foraging only when needed and under the cover of trees. He was busy gorging on some berries while following the road until he found Center. He glanced about and grinned as he entered the small town.
“Mooching, that’s a rather harsh way of putting it. Then again, I am rather good at such an art and I’d rather not sell myself short.”[/INDENT]
//He will not have any ties to any organization or benefit from the aforementioned NPCs.
Pardon the (Revel) part since this was quite a rushed submission, I was unable to think of a suitable name for the traveling gypsy troupe. I will supply the name later once I think of something grand and luxurious!
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