Jack stands at a commanding height of over six feet tall, but his slender frame lends to an overall unimposing physique. His shaggy black hair is cropped short and typically unkempt. A light complexion suggests that he spends very little time in the sun, and is a stark contrast to the dark color of his hair. Bright green eyes are typically hidden beneath the shade of a hooded cloak or wide-brimmed hat. His attire is drab and inconspicuous; he appears to be nothing more than a common traveler.
Jack carries himself with a subtle confidence that becomes more and more apparent over time. He's quick to make himself out as harmless or less skilled than he actually is -- he seems to relish the moment where an opponent's overconfidence is crushed by the realization that they have underestimated him. This penchant for misdirection makes him a natural at games of chance, which he has a difficult time resisting the opportunity to partake in.
The cloaked man keeps his emotions in check, and is slow to trust. He's friendly enough not to draw suspicions of his motivations, but rarely forms close bonds for fear that they will become a liability. He has a soft spot for beautiful women which he is quite aware of and tries his hardest to suppress. He deliberately avoids dealing with illicit drugs and strictly abstains from alcohol. When asked why he refuses to drink, his answer is characteristically vague.
Backstory
:
A freshly tacked wanted poster hung from an old post outside a Westcrown alehouse. It had just begun to rain, and the streets were beginning to clear out as people took shelter from the coming storm. A cloaked man strolled around the corner of the alehouse and took a moment to examine the poster.
WANTED
The Sandman of Westcrown
For the crimes of Burglary,
Assault, Larceny, Conspiracy,
Forgery, Destruction of Property,
Impersonation of a City Official,
and Libel.
(A rough sketch vaguely depicts the perpetrator.)
Whosoever delivers this wanted criminal
to justice, or provides information leading
to his apprehension shall receive a reward of
no less than one-thousand gold pieces.
"Hmm. It's all the way up to a thousand now.", the cloaked man whispered quietly to himself.
From behind him, the gruff voice of an alehouse patron broke the silence. "Ugly fella, ain't he?", the patron remarked.
"Glad I don't look like him.", the cloaked man replied without turning to face the fellow who addressed him. The sound of muddy footsteps fading behind him signaled the conversation's end.
The cloaked man reached out and snatched the poster. He crumpled it in his hand, let it fall to the rain-soaked ground, and stamped it into the mud. "Hell, if they let me have the reward, I'd turn myself in.", he thought as he walked towards the Westcrown docks. Little did he know what awaited him there.
