Jacob Clearwater

Campaign: Sea Faring Campaign

Theme Song: Run like Hell by Pink Floyd. (Temporary Place Holder.)

Backstory
Jacob Clearwater was a simple boy. He stood no taller than a blackwulf, with hair just as dark. He was a bit of a scrawny child, but his eyes were as bright a healthy green as any good natured child could hope for. He lived in an average home, which held an average amount of money, nestled in a plot of land just as average as any other. His parents, Miranda and Uther, were extremely loving, and spoiled their only son when it came to things that Jacob wanted or needed. Jacob was never asked to do any chores around the house, but instead was always told to stay inside, rest, and eat healthy.

Jacob could never take his parents advice on staying inside. He learned of a farm a few miles through the forest and was soon hired there as a farm hand. He would walk to the farm every day. He never had a single problem going through the woods, as he was always a very smart young man, and always remembered the way by heart.

Through his deeds at the farm, Jacob soon grew to be extremely strong. "As strong as an Ox!" he was said to be, "And he can pick one up too!" And they were right; There was no one that anyone had ever met that was stronger than Jacob. Many even heard of him and his incredible strength, and came to challenge it, only to walk away with nothing but their shame.

The farmer whom had hired Jacob was a great man by the name of Hindersnaff R. Keein, the man said to jokingly have a "backwards name." Hindersnaff always paid great attention to Jacob, and loved him as his own son; He even treated Jacob as his own. But Jacob still must be paid for his work on the farm, and Hindersnaff paid him very well. Soon Jacob's pockets were deeper and fatter than those of his own father. He did not want his parents to know of his job, of Hindersnaff, or of the money he was making on the farm, and so he kept the secret for almost 5 years. By this time, Jacob was just about to turn 17.

Time tells many tales, and even tells some unwanted secrets as well...

Jacobs father was not exactly a "well" man. He drank much, cussed more, and intruded on things he should ought not. Jacob did not know this, as he had never witnessed his father have a single drop of drink in his whole lifetime. Years and years before Jacob was born, his father was the greatest swordsman in the land. Many, many men had he dueled, and never had he ever had a single scar to show for it. Many many battles had he heard the dying screams of thousands in, but still, not a single scar to show for it. But sometimes the fear he felt during those battles would come back to him, and Uther changed from the loving father he had been for almost 17 years, to someone completely different.

Uther woke up one late night in a cold sweat, screaming of beasts and bloody fields, death and winged demons. Uther jumped out of bed, threw on his bedclothes, and ran about the house wildly. Many things did he knock over, but none of which stirred Jacob nor Miranda. After what must have seemed hours to Uther, he came upon the threshold of his child's bedroom. As if in a trance, Uther crept over to Jacob without a sound, and with blood lust in his eyes, stood over his son, bearing down on what must have been the memory of a million deaths reborn in his dreams. Unbeknownst to anyone, Uther kept a dagger with him at all times; An Assassins dagger hidden in an invisible sheath strapped about his chest with the fear and agony of war. No one knew of this dagger until it was drawn, and once it was, there was no one that ever kept his breath long enough to tell a soul.

Uther's rage boiled, and his heart pounded with the fury of the greatest dragons. Unsheathing the dagger, he leaned over Jacob, and raised the dagger...

"DEATH TO YOU DEMON!! AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

Bringing the dagger down on Jacob was the first task Uther had ever attempted that he had not completed. The battle cry Uther rang out could have been heard for miles; if there was even anyone with a breath in them to question what it was. And in being quite so loud, Uther had awakened Jacob whom had raised his own hand against his father, grabbing his wrist and stopping the Assassins blade a mere angel hairs width from his heart. The rage ebbed from Uther's eyes, as they had finally seen the truth; It was not a demon he thought he was to slay, but his own son. Uther ran from what could have been a true demon in the burning eyes of his own flesh and blood.

The bottle was Uther's only escape now. He went straight out to his workhouse to find his oldest bottle of Ale, and drank it all in one giant gulp. Jacob stayed in his room, cowering in case his drunken father was to return.

But it was not his father he would much need to worry about tonight. The demons that haunted Uther were more than just in his nightmares.

Uther had many treasures from his battles during his young days. He had stripped many bodies of their family crests and heirlooms, many of which could have certainly been ransomed back to the family for more gold then Uther or Miranda themselves could ever imagine. But treasured most of all was the exotic weaponry taken from the cold, stiff hands of Knights and Kings, and from the smoldering ashes of demons and heretics. Many of these fantastic weapons -- everything from war hammers to maces to swords and shields -- had been hung in Uther's own workshop, through a hidden trapdoor in the very center of the room which lead to an underground chamber. This, in the eyes of Uther kept them safe from the prying eyes and sly fingers of thieves. Uther's only unknown problem with being the only soul to know of this chamber was the fact that he simply was not the only one that knew of it.

One bright sunny day, young Jacob was doing his usual routine of trying to become his father, his one and only hero. He had slipped through a small hole under the backside of the workshop, which opened up right underneath his fathers workbench. The wonders of his fathers workshop were the greatest discovery in the world! There were hammers and nails, and best of all, small planks of wood to use those hammers and nails on! Many months did small bits of wood disappear from the workshop, along with nails -- many times disappearing together, seeing as it took Jacob almost to a new moon to discover how to remove the nails from the wood. Many odd looks did Jacob receive from his father when he would come into the house all dusty, and more precious wood and nails were missing.

Jacob was always very careful to not drop anything onto the floor of Uther's workshop. One tiny hint of his transgressions to his father, Jacob thought, would certainly be the death of him! So, every time even the smallest speck of wood or nail would fall, Jacob was sure to pick it up immediately.

One day was different though. As I have stated, Jacob was very paranoid when the thought of being caught came about. So, one day when Jacob was playing with some small bits of metal in the corner, he heard Uther call to him from just outside the house. Jacob slowly placed the small bar of iron in his hands back down into the pile, and was crawling for the hole when the bit of iron crashed down through the pile, sounding as though it had hit every single metal object in the world and rang out louder than the cry of a harpy. Jacob could hear his fathers heavy footsteps pounding toward his hiding spot in the workshop, and knew that he had to quickly find a much better hiding spot. Jacob was dashing across the hardwood floor and sliding behind a sleet covering a few small gardening tools when he noticed he had left out his fathers hammer. Knowing that there was no difference between himself and the hammer being seen, he came out from his hiding spot to quickly put away the hammer.

Jacob listened for his father, and heard the lock on the door being fooled with. He had to be fast -- faster than he had ever been before. Grabbing the hammer and turning as he lifted, Jacob's arm was almost pulled out of its socket. Looking down at the hammer, it did not look as though there was anything holding it down, but still the hammer would barely budge.

"Jacob? Jacob!? Where are you son?" Shouted Uther in desperation, "Damnit! Where is the key?"

Jacob tugged at the hammer but it would not budge. How could this be happening? What could be keeping it from lifting off the floor? Jacob made one last stand against this, to him, obviously magical hammer: He set his stance, bent with his knees, grabbed the hammer with both hands, and pulled with all his might...

Creeeeeeeeeeeekk!

"JACOB? I'm coming son!!"

The floor itself had seemed to give way and raise up. Jacob kept pulling, pulling, pulling... Suddenly, the floor lightened its load and Jacob looked down to see a passage below. At this, the hammer fell away from whatever force was holding it in place and Jacob, against his own will, slowly stepped through the wooden portal into the passage.

Candles on the walls ignited themselves as he stood just below the trapdoor that gave entrance to the passage. The passage seemed to lead off farther than Jacob himself could see, but the sounds of his father above him now kept him from turning back. The passage was damp and the walls had a slimy feel to them. Wooden planks, the same as the ones in the workshop kept the ceiling and walls from falling in, but were riddled with holes from the ever present worms and termites. The stench of blood and death hung lightly in the air, but Jacob was not discouraged. He slowly took a first step down the passage. The candles snuffed themselves out as he made his way past them, and more ignited as he got close to them. Darkness surrounded Jacob just beyond the light from these odd candles, and the unknown beckoned his name, moving him further forward.

It seemed to Jacob that it was hours, even days before the candles stopped giving him light, and gave way to a large room lighted by not candles, but something else. Jacob continued into the room to behold something he had never seen before.

The ceiling was very tall: taller than he could have thought possible for being underground, but was held up by the same wood as the tunnel itself. In the center of the room stood a small pedestal, on which stood a stone hand. In its grasp was a black ball, larger than Jacob's fists when put together. This room was not lit by candles, but by all that hung on its walls. To his left, Jacob saw many different instruments of war -- Anything that the most proud army's in the world could wish for -- all of which seemed to be glowing with an almost holy light. Axes from untold places; Swords and Maces from the hands of the Holiest of Warriors; and Shields of Kings. But what intrigued Jacob the most was the other side of the room. Darkness is all that could be seen on the far side, even though the light from the opposite wall was intensely bright. Puzzled, Jacob was, about how he could not see what the contents of this other wall was. He was almost sure that there had to be something there, but what, he had no idea.

After noticing the wall on the other side of the room, Jacob had a hard time turning back to look at the wall of weaponry. He had a feeling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. Many times Jacob could swear on his life that he had heard whispers from behind him, but no one was ever there when he looked back.

Finally, after observing each piece of glowing steel with great detail, Jacob remembered the pedestal in the center of the room. He walked toward it and the ball seemed to start glowing slightly. The pedestal was made of stone, and intricately carved with many different symbols of what must be a strange tongue. The hand itself was made of some different material which Jacob did not know of. It was slightly dark in color, and had the veins of marble flowing through it. It was carved even more intricately then that of the pedestal, and every characteristic of the hand over exaggerated.

The ball gave off a little more light now that Jacob had come closer, and the dark seemed to cower away from its light. The whispers were almost speaking to Jacob, and he discovered that he was not imagining them, but that there really was something in the darkness. Feeling the valleys and mountains of the pedestal, the ball began to quiver slightly as if in anticipation of something. Something told Jacob that it was time to see how the ball felt in his hands -- And that he at least tried.

The moment Jacob touched the ball in the grip of the stone hand, he was nearly blinded by a burst of light given off at his young fingertips. The dark gave off screams as it was pushed away by the light, revealing another set of demonic looking weapons and armor, each quivering with life, and chained to the walls. Only one piece was not chained: A large shield hanging in the center of all the other weaponry; An evil, black, blood covered shield with horns jutting outward from every edge. And in the middle, a large half-sphere protrusion that puzzled Jacob into looking closer. As Jacob stepped toward the shield, the protrusion snapped open. An almost yellow-blood-red colored eye stared right into Jacobs innermost thoughts, demons were surrounding him, bloody claws tearing at his skin, ripping at his falling flesh.

Jacob let out a blood curling scream of horror and fell to his knees as all light around him was consumed by the eye.

The screams were incredible. At some points, even inaudible because they were so loud. It would not have mattered though, if Jacob had not heard a sound, because the sights he saw were worse than the Devil himself. Claws tearing flesh, his own flesh. The pain was excruciating, but something kept Jacob from passing out. Blood was pooling on the floor about Jacobs knees, but he could not be sure that it was completely his own.

His pain ebbed for a moment, enough for Jacob to take a look at what surrounded him. The walls looked as stone or flesh, he couldn't tell. They seemed to pulse slightly, as if they were breathing. Jagged edges jutted about every few feet, looking like defenses against some insane army that would attempt an attack on this horrid place.

Blood poured down the walls, and a million knives sunk into Jacobs flesh, burning, tearing at his flesh. Jacob fell onto his back, and the stone below him seemed to rise up about him with bony fingers, pawing at his lacerations.

This must finally be the end...God, please let me die...Let me leave this pain...

Screams of horror echoed through the halls, red eyes glowed from the shadows, talons scratched stone, fangs licked by forked tongues.

...The Light... It cooled the burns, dried the blood. The glowing eyes retreated, then claws lay silent. The Light eased Jacobs pain.

It was hours before Jacob awoke, but it must have felt like days, weeks, even years to Jacob. Cold sweat flowed down his face as he lay before the shield, its eye now closed. The darkness was being held back by the armor on the far wall. A pool was sweat had formed on the floor beside Jacob, and soon enough its coolness made him stir.

He couldn't speak at first. Jacob sat up, in shock, and began to take in his surroundings again. Everything was normal again. The walls did not pulse, they were not covered in blood; There were no shadows in which beady eyes could glow.

The ball in the center of the room was floating above the now opened hand, a slight blue glow emanating from it. The hand, though it was stone in appearance, came to life, reached to the sky, and grabbed the ball, which went dark again as the hand took its original position. The dark crept back at Jacob, who moved quickly away from it. A look of shear horror on his face, Jacob stumbled back toward the tunnel.