Name: Jalarus
Age: 27
Sex: Male
Sexual Orientation: Homosexual
Craft: Kitchenworker // Ex-Mercenary/Holdless // Ex-Candidate
Rank: N/A
Location: High Reaches Weyr
Physical Description: Jalarus is a large and heavy man. He stands about an even 6'4, and is incredibly broad shouldered, barrel chested, with a mix of muscle and fat. It's more the former than the latter, but the relative ease of Weyrlife, along with three solid meals a day for so many Turns, has caused the man to soften some. He's not a vain creature -- he's missing a few teeth (thankfully not too noticeable if he doesn't smile wide), sports some ugly scars from past scrabbles, and is missing a chunk out of his right ear. He knows he's an ugly wherry, but has learned to deal with his lot. He may not be beautiful of face, but he's physically strong, and according to the weyrbrats, makes an excellent one man jungle gym. His hair is kept short, though when it grows, turns into a mop of brown, wavey curls. His eyes are a golden brown, and perhaps his prettiest feature.
Personality: Jalarus is, above all else, a quiet man. Even as a youth, he kept his mouth shut, and knew when to turn the other cheek. Around strangers, or in the midst of a large crowd, Jalarus will keep himself reserved and aloof. He'd rather skirt around the edge of a group than be in the center, and while he doesn't wish to be isolated, he can find a crowd taxing. So it is, the large man prefers to quietly sit on the sidelines, and prefers to observe than interact.
Jal often keeps his feelings close to the vest. He tends to be a difficult read even for those who know him well, thanks to his minimal use of words, and a preference for grunts, growls, and snorts. He knows how to speak, and when he's at his most relaxed, he can hold a solid conversation. In fact, those he does speak to, will find Jalarus keenly observant. He's a watcher, and a listener, and therefor others shouldn't be surprised when he gets them a favored gift for their Naming Day, or makes an astute comment about the politics and drama going on at the Weyr. Just because he's quiet doesn't make him blind, deaf, or mute.
Jal is a product of his environment. He grew up the son of an exiled man, and his morality is a bit skewed. This means he can come off as callous or uncaring. Is he excited about the upcoming hatching? Meh. Isn't he upset that so-and-so got promoted to Wingsecond? Tch. Isn't he sorry to see Vanden leave the Weyr for good? Mph. It isn't that Jalarus doesn't feel. He learned a long time ago that letting his passions grip him, and hold him, only got him into trouble. He tries not to care, not because he's heartless, but because he's afraid to let himself really feel. Feelings only lead to misery, and if he let himself care, he'd weep for all the things he's done and witnessed. The sensitive boy he once was had long since been beaten out of him.
The man is a follower more than a leader. He's not usually the first to volunteer for anything, but if ordered, asked, or commanded to do something he would without much fuss or fight. He's not a pushover, just quite tolerant, and would rather someone else step up to the plate or lead a group. He knows he's a good draybeast of a man -- failing to Impress and working in the kitchens has only reinforced his beliefs.
Positive Trait List Protective, Observant, Thoughtful
Negative Trait List Aloof, Apathetic, Follower
History: Jalarus was born under an unlucky star, at least that's what some folks at the camp always told him. He was born in a mercenary camp, and his mother, usually a strong woman, died shortly after his birth. Whether or not his father was devastated or relieved by her death, Jalarus could never quite figure out. For much of his upbringing, Jalarus was holdless. The group was a mix of exiled men and women, conmen, runaways, and other unsavory sorts that lived off the fat of the land. Obtaining that fat often required thieving, hunting, and stealing -- but bread was bread no matter how it was obtained, and some within the group weren't welcome to trade honestly.
The camp didn't often stay in one place for long; the small group was constantly moving, taking backwoods, and difficult trails to move north and south throughout the seasons. The small group wasn't welcome at all Holds -- they often made a wide berth around Fort, Benden, Southern Boll, Tillek, and High Reaches. But there were some Holds that seemed not to mind the group -- provided they didn't cause too much a ruckous. Crom, Bitra, and Nabol were among the more frequent lands Jalarus grew up.
His father was a known fighter for the troupe, and one of the exiles. Jal never found out what his father had done to get exiled, but rumor said it was murder of multiple individuals. Instead of getting sent to the Eastern Islands, his father managed to escape, and had been on the run. He joined the troupe, who didn't seem too distressed by his questionable past; loyalty (of a sort) was formed, and he became one of the troupe's hired swords. He met Jal's mother in the troupe, and whether or not it was love, it did result in his birth.
While his father kept an eye on his son, children in the troupe had it rough. They grew up with little, and learned to be useful and resourceful. Those who were too gentle or frail often died, disappeared, were sold, or were simply left behind. Jalarus, though perhaps not the cleverest of children, was at least big. He was strong as a child, and only grew stronger as a teen. He learned to keep his mouth shut, to turn the other cheek, and to do as he was told when he was told. He learned independence from a young age -- how to hunt, how to steal, and how to make marks for the group. He fought and wrestled with the other children, and a small pecking order was created; while physically Jalarus was capable of leading, he usually always deferred to those who were more clever, or just who had a more dominant personality.
For much of his life, the boy grew up and lived a bit wild. He did whatever he had to do to help the troupe, and learned to keep his mouth shut, and to do what he was told. If he wanted to avoid trouble, he had to listen to his superiors. At about turn 10 he was finally old enough to start fighting for marks. Unlike his father, who had to avoid the Holds due to the branded E on his face, Jalarus was just another face. He could come and go freely, and his father (along with others of the troupe) exploited him for such innocence. He learned to take up the sword and the bow, and would wrestle, fight, or duel others. Sometimes he won, which often meant larger portions of food, or even a bit of wine that night. Other times he lost, which meant trouble from his father and others who had betted on him to win. It wasn't an easy life, but Jalarus didn't know any better. If he possessed any envy at seeing the better-dressed girls and boys his age, with their clean clothes, primped hair, and rosy faces, he never said a word.
As he aged, his height more than doubled, and he started filling out early. He started to make a name for himself due to his strength, but once again, his father noticed that Jalarus just didn't see to have any gumption to win. He wasn't competitive, and he often seemed to defer to those who had sharper tongues and force behind their actions. This frustrated the man, who thought that Jalarus simply needed to be pushed harder, and antagonized into tapping into his fighting spirit.
Like the fighting whers of some gambling halls, Jalarus was turned into his father's prized pet. He took over his training, and pushed, antagonized, and humiliated the other, all in hopes of forcing his son into a more aggressive fighting spirit. Such tactics didn't work -- but if his father had ever wondered if his son would rise to the occasion, he did not have to wait long.
Unknown to Jal's father, the youth had found himself in his first real relationship. It was a young man a little older than himself, Kharin, who was less of a fighter and more of a thief. They were kindred spirits, and the other boy seemed to look past Jal's less-than-handsome features. They'd steal off together from time-to-time, under the guise of training, or working, or scouting; but really, it was just an opportunity to relax, or find a little goodnes in one another. Jal trusted Kharin, and over time, the two fell in love. They were as different as night and day, but were one another's lifelines. They sometimes thought of stealing away for good, but both boys were loyal to the troupe, or perhaps, loyal to one another. Neither wanted to leave if the other wouldn't follow.
At Turn 19 Jal's life changed. Sickness moved through the camp. While Jal recovered relatively well, Kharin did not. The healers simply did not have the proper medicine to cure the disease, and though Jal begged the troupe to call on High Reaches Hold, the closest major Hold, for aid, they did not dare. They had to make it to the Nabolese borders before they could properly find aid, but Jal did not think his friend would be able to make the journey.
So, he took Kharin up in his arms, bundled like a sack of tubers, and stole away. He took the paths he knew, an navigated the hills as best he could; unfortunately, as the troupe rarely went near High Reaches, he got himself lost in the hills. By the time Jal was discovered by sweep riders, it was too late. Kharin had passed away that morning, and no amount of sobbing, kisses, or pleading would bring his companion back.
Kharin was dropped Between as Jal was brought back to High Reaches Weyr to rest, get treated, and his story sorted. The Weyr was going to send him to one of the Holds where he could figure out his life, when he was officially Searched. While it did not ease his heartache or grief, it did mean that Jalarus now found himself with options. It meant he could stay, and not have to face a world without Kharin, or be forced to fight, or to take up a sword.
Weyrlife suited him, somewhat. He'd never known security, and over the Turns he learned to read and write. While he would never be a harper or archivist, he found enjoyment in learning. He wasn't the smartest, but there were often others to help where he might struggle; and his strength did earn him a solid reputation. He was always a favorite when it came to packing firestone or other chores that required feats of strength.
While Kharin's death still broke his heart, Jalarus found, for once in his life, some happiness in the Weyr. He took orders well, he learned as quickly as he was able, and felt included. He was a Candidate, and while he believed that Kharin would have been too, had they both made it to the Weyr, Jalarus found himself hoping more and more that maybe this was his calling. Surely, surely, he would find a place within the Weyr.
But the Turns passed, and every Hatching Jalarus found himself alone. Any tears he felt were always shed privately, and as he turns 24, then 25, he realized that he might very well age out. What would become of him then? He had no real craft, though he had dabbled in a few during his earlier Turns. And he did not want to return to the troupe, nor did he dare. Ah, but maybe, surely, his last Hatching would result in success?
Alas for Jalarus, it did not. And with his naming day shortly after the Hatching, he found himself alone. He had failed. The final rejection, the knowledge that he was no longer worthy a companion, caused Jalarus to sink back into a depression. Not, that he figured, anybody would notice or care. His title of Candidate, one he worse so proudly, was stripped of him, and he was sent to the Lower Caverns to be told of his fate. If the Weyr did not want him, then they could send him back to a Hold or Hall.
Thankfully, he was offered a position to help in the Lower Caverns. He was large enough to get underfoot, but he knew how to take direction well, and was useful in carrying the heavy things up and down the endless amount of stairs and corridors; he could be sent to the stables to help the beastcrafters when they needed hands, or sent to the healers to help carry tables, or move beds. Once again, Jalarus got to play the role of herdbeast. His pride, what little he had, was wounded greatly; but, he knew that maybe, this was simply his life's calling.
Not everyone could be a hero or star, after all.
Other: He can be surprisingly gentle with others, despite his overall height and strength. He's not the sort to react to insult or offense, but that doesn't mean he forgets those who slight him.
Candidate Specific Questions
Do you want them to have an official Search RP? No
Do you understand they will age every passing year regardless if you're there to RP the or not? Yes
Do you want them to have a possible Stands Impression? Yes
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