Approved WY Bio for Jac al'Caar-CCed by CotL \m/

[Talavin]

Note: the Aes Sedai interaction in the bio was approved by the WT

 

 

 

Jac al'Caar

Age: 19

Place of Origin: Early Years 0-9: No fixed origin, Later years 9-19: Baerlon

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Eye Color: Dark Brown

Height: 6'0

Weight: 190

Weapon of Choice: Sword

Personality: Likeable but can become moody and violent. Loyal to friends. Does not abide people taking him for granted.

 

History:

 

Here stands Jac al'Caar. A lone, rain drenched figure illuminated by an occasional flash of Lightning. He is unfazed by the rain or the Thunder and Lightning as the storm rages, whipping his cloak about him. Standing with nothing but the sword he was given, by a man who took him in and treated him as his own son for almost ten years, and his small shoulder bag containing his meagre belongings. He felt relief as he, finally, looked upon the majesty that was the city of Tar Valon.

 

The city his father so dearly wanted to see.

 

Jac al'Caar was born in the Wagon his parents had travelled, and lived in. His early life was pretty much normal for a young lad. As normal as a life could be living in a Wagon that looked like one of the Tinkers', albeit slightly less colourful. He was an only child to Paet and Maise al'Caar, happy and always with a ready smile, dark of hair and eye, like his parents'. He could be mischievous, at times, but would never shirk his chores, and was ever helpful around the farms where they were allowed to stop and trade supplies for whatever work needed doing.

 

His father had left his home, a farm near Bearlon, when he was only 20. He had been yearning to see more of the world ever since taking in a Gleeman during a storm and listening avidly to his tales of adventure. After that, Paet decided to sell the farm, against Maises' wishes, and to move to … well, not even Paet knew where. But he knew that he wanted to see cities other than Bearlon, maybe even Tar Valon itself. Maise, who had misgivings at this wool-brained plan of Paets, had slowly but surely warmed to the idea. Paet bought a wagon from a trader in Bearlon and spent the last three weeks of their time at the Farm making the Wagon a small home on wheels. Almost a year after they had embarked on their adventure, Maise fell pregnant with Jac. They were happy times for the al'caar family. Eleven years they lived this way, nine with Jac, before Paet and Maise decided they should take Jac to where his family had come from. They headed for Baerlon where they intended to spend a day or two to celebrate Jac's 9th Naming Day.

 

 

They were a mile outside Baerlon, when the bandits struck...

 

There were only two of them, but they were armed. Jac came out of the wagon when he heard the commotion, he saw his father wrestling with one of the bandits then turned to see where his Mother was. If only he hadn't. Just as he turned, he saw the sneering bandit running his Mother through with his sword, he couldn't help the thought that this was the first sword he had ever seen, and it was buried almost to the hilt in his Mother's midriff. He heard a roar of sheer pain and anguish he didn't even realise was his own. Somehow his Father had killed the other bandit and was rushing towards the second, screaming like some wild animal "MAISE NOOOO!!!" . But bare hands are no match for the cold steel blade of a sword. He fell just as easily as Jac's Mother.

 

Jac was alone.

 

In a daze he stepped off the wagon, moving towards his fallen parents. The bandit advanced on him slowly. Sneering just as he had when he had killed Jac's mother. Then there was a sudden shout, "STOP." Jac could never decide what surprised him more, the sheer force of the woman's voice or her appearance, dressed all in finery the likes of which he had never seen before. It was the man who accompanied her that caught his eye though. He descended on the murderous scum as unstoppable as an avalanche, his sword a blur. Unseen, the woman had approached him. Her dress was dark green, slashed with white. She knelt in front of him with unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry". The man who was with her walked over wiping his blade on a torn piece of cloth "We must be on our way to Baerlon, are we taking this with us?" He said gruffly. "Be gentle with him, we will take him with us and leave him with a friend". It was then that Jac broke down and the woman took him in her arms until he could cry no more tears.

 

From there Jac was taken to Baerlon, to an Inn, where he later learned that the woman and man were an Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah and her Warder. He was cared for in the Inn as if he had been born there. The anguish he felt at the loss of his parents diminished, but never really went away. He worked harder than he ever did on the farms where he helped his father when they needed to trade for food and supplies. He even learned how to use a sword from one of the strongarms in the employ of the innkeeper.

 

 

He stayed in Baerlon until his 19th Naming Day.

 

It all started so well, he remembered.

 

He was so full of optimism, feeling he could almost run all the way to Tar Valon itself. It was his 19th Naming Day, just before dawn. He chose this day to set off to the Tower due to its significance, 10 years to the day since… No, he would not dwell too long on that, as he did every year.

 

He was sitting alone in the common room of the Inn he'd lived in for the last ten years. With his bags at his feet, the smell of smoke and stale ale and wine still heavy in the air and the smell of the first loaves of bread of the day just starting to waft through from the Kitchen. Tom came and sat opposite him with a long bundle in his hands. Jac looked across at the man who had been like a father to him, no, Tom had been a father to Jac and more than that, he was a friend, a good friend.

 

"Well, lad, you enjoy y'self last night?" Jac's puzzled look made Tom continue, "Killie got in y' rooms last night didn't she?" Jac's horrified expression told Tom all he need to know. "Y' first time too I'll wager, I hadn't even finished me drink when she was back down here grinin' like the cat what got the cream."

"Tom, Don.."

"Calm y'self lad, I'm jokin with y'" Tom handed the bundle over to Jac "Here lad, considerin' where y' goin, I think it only fittin' y' have this. It was me da's see, he sent it to me hopin' I'd follow his footsteps, see. Y' remember when the Aes Sedai brought y' here… well… The reason she did was… Well me Da was a Warder… Her warder, her first, it was her what give it me when... When he died. You see, my ma died when she brought me into this world, the Light Bless her, and my Da couldn't really cope. He was a Soldier and bringin' up a new Babe on 'is own just wasn't for him. So he left me here with his brother and just went off and nobody knew where 'e was goin' to. He used t' send money back from time to time t' see I wasn't bein' a burden, but he never said anything more about it." He stopped to fetch a drink for himself and Jac, before continuing.

 

"It wasn't until I was 15 that the Lady Mara, I know that ain't her real name she says it's best not to know for me and her, but she came and gave me that sword and t' tell me that my Da had saved her life but lost 'is own in doin' it. She explained a few things includin' that my Da was her Warder. She did that becaue she felt she owed it to him and she... " Tom cleared his throat as his voice started to crack."Enough about that anyway. When he passed this on to me, I new I wouldn't need it, so I thought I best keep it in case, well, I suppose in case my son might need it."

At this point, a tear Tom had been fighting back, broke free and, shakily, Tom continued . "Well, lad I'd call it an honour, if y'd… If y' know …. If…" Jac laid a hand on his shoulder "Tom, stop,Tom…" he stopped then and looked at the man who had taken in a 9 year old boy, and raised him as lovingly as any father had "No, that's not right, if it's ok with you can I call you… Da?" At this Tom rounded the table, took him up in a hug which Jac felt would have crushed a bear! "My boy , my boy, o' course y' can!"

 

When they'd had a chance to compose themselves, Tom pointed at the bundle, "Well are y' goin' t' open that or not, 'cause if y' don't want it I'll pick up another stray and give it t' him in another ten years!" Jac couldn't help but laugh, but as soon as his eyes set upon the sword, the laughter turned into a disbelieving gawp.

"y' tryin' t' catch flies there my boy?" Tom said with a grin, "A beauty, ain't she?"

"To… Da, I can't… you can't"

"Jac, I'll have none o' that now" Said Tom all serious now, "I think of you as a son, do you think I would have it any other way?" Jac shook his head before Tom continued, "Seeing you walk back through that door, wearing that sword, a full Warder, well, that'll be the proudest day of my life!" Tom scrubbed at his face at a stray tear

"Now let's be havin' y' away! I've paid good coin f' this carriage, pulled in a few favours too, y'll be owin' me big time when y' get back!"

It wasn't until then that Jac noticed the Carriage standing outside the Inn in the, steadily growing, grey of dawn. Tom hustled and harried Jac outside and bundled him into the waiting carriage. With a choked  "just come back n' see me ok? When it's all done." Tom waved him away.

 

"I will, Da, I will. And I'll make you proud too, I promise." The last was spoken in a whisper to Both Tom and Paet, and his mother Maise.

 

Here stands Jac al'Caar. A lone, rain drenched figure illuminated by an occasional flash of Lightning. He is unfazed by the rain or the Thunder and Lightning as the storm rages, whipping his cloak about him. Standing with nothing but the sword he was given, by a man who took him in and treated him as his own son for ten years. His small shoulder bag containing his meagre belongings sat in a puddle at his feet.

 

He would be a Warder. He would repay the kindness he was shown by an Aes Sedai.

 

He will become a Warder. Nothing less will he accept. For his parents. For Tom.

 

He will become a Warder.

[Nynaeve]

Looks good to me. CCed.

 

 

 

Nyn

CotL