3. Jay The Forgettable

Jay The Forgettable


  • _Father's Death: A Look Back

    "Are you sure you have to go?" Said Nancy, a look of dissapointment in her soft blue eyes.

    "Yes." Responded a gruff looking elf. He is fully armored in a fine steel plate, an elven warbraid tied into his long brown hair. An elven longsword seathed at his hip. He is readying a his pack for a long journey, putting all the necessities within.

    "Will you be gone long?" She asks, knowing the answer by how many days worth of food he is packing..

    "It is just a routine escort. I will be back soon." Again he replies simply, not wanting to argue or discuss it.

    "You are always out doing some dangerous thing for some noble you hardly know. When will you spend time with your family?"

    Sighing, the male elf paused in his packing, looking over at Nancy. He steps up to her, laying a hand gently on her cheek as he speaks in response.

    "Just this last one… it is a large pay, and it will support us for many years to come. During those years I will retire from the life of a sellsword, and spend it all with you, and our son. But just this last time.. and it will be done, I promise."

    Turning, the elf simply just went back to his packing.. finally finishing, and heading for the door to his home. Though he is stopped by a delicate hand that presses against his chest.. his green hues look back over to Nancy..

    "I will hold you to that promise. I love you."

    The male elf nodded, responding in kind.

    "I love you as well. (e) Fair winds... and make sure he does not get into trouble again."

    Nodding, Nancy gives him a soft smile, stepping out of his way. He then heads out the door, wanting to quickly leave so an emotional goodbye will not be dragged out. He knows the dangers of his trade, and these moments always make his heart ache. Though he must stay strong, and come back to see his family smile at his return...

    The male elf is being paid to escort a rather rich nobleman along the roads. Bandits and highwaymen sometimes harrass or even kill travellers along the way... though it is rare. The trip seemed routine enough, the noble and the elf making it more than halfway.. until the rare occurance happened.

    A band of ten or so highwaymen surrounded the noble and his bodyguard.

    "Gimme all yer gold rich fecker... and ye'll live to see another day. And ye, elf, drop yer weapon." The bandit said, giving a toothy grin to the outnumbered pair.

    "(e) Do as he says... your riches aren't worth our lives.." The elf whispered to his companion... though his companion did not seem to want to comply..

    "(e) I'm paying you to protect me -and- my riches. Do something, make it so we don't need to pay... kill them."

    Grunting, he responds.. "(e) We are sorley outnumbered.. I cannot take them all.."

    "(e) Do it.. or I'll make sure you never work as an escort again."

    Muttering, the elf turned to face who appeared to be the leader of this bandit gang..

    "I shall give you this.." Holding up a bag of gold, he tosses it at the bandit's feet. "There is 100 in there. I hope that will be enough."

    "It ain't, elfie. Yer givin' it all."

    The bandits stepped closer to the pair... the elf resting a hand on his sword hilt, readying himself...

    Three days later.

    A knock was heard at the front door. Nancy stood and went to answer it, near running as she does so, expecting it to be him, especially this late at night.

    But no, it was a messenger... who had a rather solemn look on his face.

    "Miss, this is for you."

    The messenger hands over a parchment, before turning and walking off.

    Nancy looked over the parchment, reading the message... it was from her husband's friend:

    @067dd99a3c:

    Nancy,

    I am no sure how to tell you this, or what the right words are. But I will just say it.

    Mr. Amadur was slain on his escort trip yesterday. A group of bandits ambused him. He managed to slay seven of them before he was killed. I will be stopping by tommorow to talk with you. That is all.

    Your friend and my condolensces,

    Charles

    She just stared at the parchment a long moment, seeming confused at first… just shaking her head. Before realization kicked in... she dropped to her knees, crumpling the parchment in her hand. Tears welling in her eyes, and quickly the dam breaks...

    "(e) Ma! Can I have some w-water pleeease?"

    Asked a small brown-haired child as he ran up next to his mother. Quickly, she wiped away her tears, and kept her face hidden from her son.. not wanting him to know just yet.

    "(e) Go back to bed, Amar.. I'll go... get you some water in a little bit."

    "(e) Thank you mommy!" The little boy said, remembering to be polite and say 'thank you' to someone who has been nice.

    Though the glass of water never came. Jay, only five years old, only heard his mother's quiet sobs. And he would hear those sobs for many many days, weeks, and months to come...._


  • The First Death

    _A standard gathering of Sails in the commons, all of them rough housing or causing some sort of scene in the commons of Peltarch. One of them mentioned gathering riches deep within a cave that lies within the gnoll woods. Jay is not entirely enthused with a long walk, but he goes anyway to look after his friends.

    The trip seemed routine enough. The gold and loot gathering moving along with ease. Confidence soaring within the group as they head deeper and deeper. Until they find odd creatures down there, that have not been there before. The others seemed to act cautious, yet Jay was secretly excited that there was a new opponent to train his skills upon.

    Drow they were called. Sneaky, cunning… they will do anything to win without risking themselves too much. The first group or two were dispatched easily... so the group decided to press on to see what the drow were up to. A mistake.

    Jay stood in front of a door, sword in hand. He then shouldered it open, to see two drow warriors standing there. Jay charged them, shield held up to block any attacks.. yet they still found their way through his shield and armor, their attacks quick and precise. A few soft spots were found, and he was quickly injured. The others in the back just now realizing what was going on, ran to his aid. At this time, another drow came from the hall ahead... though she paused, just watching the fight for a moment or two.

    Some of the others in Jay's group seemed to hesitate, while the other half readily came to help. At that point, the drow female smiled and began muttering a chant or prayer..

    Magic...

    ...there is nothing he can do against magic. It easily claims his mind. It easily penetrates his armor. He hates it, hates everything about it.

    "Dammit.." He thought, though he does not stop fighting the drow warriors, figuring the others will handle the caster.

    Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a watery figure appear next to him in a flash of magic. He has no time to react, as it spreads forth it's arms, sending a pulse to everything around it.

    His chest hurts so much... he cannot breath. He chokes, stumbling back and falling down, gasping for air. As he tosses his head about, he sees the companions that came to his aid in a similiar fashion. The drow warriors smirked and just stepped over him, letting him die... moving on to the others.

    "Ma." He barely managed to gurgle out, before all went to darkness...

    Apparently death is a common part of an adventurer's life in Narfell, yet they are brought back to fight another day or consider their career. When he was brought back... he began considering his career._


  • Bullying

    _Bullying. It is something he is slowly growing fond of. In his youth he was bullied frequently, whether it be by a larger child, or (in his later years) by the thugs who are after his money. To him, it feels good to be on the other side of things. To see the look of annoyance or fear in those he heckles or gives a beating to. However, only certain individuls have the honor of his taunting ways.

    Why be polite? Why put on a fake smile? The world is a terrible place, and one must take advantage of anything they can. That is what he thinks these days. Keep friends close while keeping a wary eye on everyone else. Everyone that is a stranger is only an enemy, until proven otherwise. So far, his methods have worked, and none have betrayed his trust. Of course, such methods can sometimes alienate said friends, though they are quick to forgive… as long as they have someone to hide behind.

    He realizes he will die fighting something... it isn't a death he particularly wants, though it isn't a bad death either. It is only a matter of time before an enemy gets lucky or just simply overpowers him. It is only a matter of time before someone might stand up to him and put him in his place..._


  • Training

    _Ever stronger he becomes, yet he does not want to admit that he may be a skilled warrior, or wish to be even recognized as one. Though he finds himself more confident and… more aggressive. Still, he has many weaknesses.

    He seems to have taken an interest in teaching others of how he fights, and teach the many pains of battle. No grandmaster himself, but he enjoys training others who have not learned the basics yet. It is something he enjoys doing, perhaps it is his calling. Though he never knew his father, he is much like him in the ways of the sword.

    Though training in battle is not the only thing he works on. A woman he fancies, as blunt and brash as him, is not quick to trust. Now he learns patience, and understanding... which he had little of to begin with. Perhaps a harder lesson for him then when he first picked up a sword, yet as he improves, the happier he becomes. Trust. The complete trust of someone is a good feeling.

    He will not fail this lesson._


  • The Lonely Sailor

    _There he sat, almost every night. Same table, same drink. He sits alone, often passing his bottle of rum or ale between his hands, staring at it in thought. His expression is stoic for the most part, though those with a keen eye note that there is a solemn look in his eyes.

    The same waitress brings him his drinks, sometimes giving him a flirty smile or a slight sultry tone when she asks what drink he wants… perhaps to get some sort of positive reaction, or maybe out of pity for the man. He's either too dense to notice, or doesn't pay any heed to her flirty gestures.

    His thoughts roam to his various adventures. Mostly the ones where someone was lost. Someone he could've protected, but failed to do so. Three times this has happened, and two of them were sailors, like himself. Killed at the whims of some elf mage who thought he could handle the situation, or some shady gnome with an immense amount of power.. something he couldn't match, but at least give others time to run. They didn't listen at his pleas to run... why didn't they listen?

    Then there was the fourth time, where no one died, yet he was scolded for his attempts to get someone away safely. The shadow creature that cut him, infected him with its vile taint. Better him than the priestess. To his surprise, he was lectured on how prideful, over-confident, and arrogant he was. No, he wasn't trying to prove something.. there was just no room for him to fail someone again. Another thing that surprised him, is that he was ready to die in order not to fail..

    Day to day, he becomes more righteous and caring... which sends a shudder down his spine._


  • From Weak to Strong

    _Months have passed since Jay's time in Narfell. It seems now he is a different person than he was when he arrived. More barbaric, more confident, more strength.

    Now fully attired in full plate armor, with a variety of weapons strapped to his person. The Sails trained him to be something more than a crate hauler, which he has yet to see. The beatings he took from crew are now less frequent, since he can properly defend himself. Some in said crew equipped him with the tools for killing, and then threw him into the fray against many a monster. With several of the crew watching his back, he has not fallen casualty to the training.

    In their own strange, sadistic way, they took care of him. Showing him things he has not seen before, nor even imagined seeing. Things that seem common to them, such as battle and bloodshed…. which they always laugh about.

    Still, even with all of that, he still feels he is ordinary. Nothing more than a useless speck of life, compared to the many heroes that inhabit Narfell. Does he wish to be a hero? No, not him. That isn't like him. Just someone that is noticed... at least.. in this world.

    A flying ship. One crash landed near Peltarch. Curious, as most are about flight, he bought passage for a trip in the sky. It was not what he expected. The ship took him away from the only world he knew, and to another. This world, like his own, was filled with war and strife. Some of his companions were already known to the residents of this world.

    A king asked for their help, and they gave it. Jay seeming to not want to stick his neck out for people he didn't even know, but he was forced to. He could not very well stay behind and be left there in a strange place. So the group went off, fighting bandits and undead.. as mighty heroes might do in stories. Every great story has a great villian, and in this case it was a lich. Powerful it was. It killed three of his companions before finally going down itself. The strange world was saved. The king knighted all who helped in the quest, including Jay.

    As he boarded the flying ship to take home, Jay realized that he was noticed here, and will likely be remembered for his deeds. It gave him an odd feeling in his stomach.. and when he arrived home, he realized something else...

    Being ordinary is better._