Thanks<strong>meikle</strong>; I'm changing my character sheet up a bit to reflect a change in persona. Dead Jack is now the bastard offspring of Dr. Jonathan Crane (The Scarecrow), and Helena Bonham Carter. Might take impossible reflexes, but for now I change to the +1 Sharp +1 Weird ability set, and will be giving him a kind of death's head motif for his look.<br/><br/>Introductions wise . . .<br/><br/><em>Jack is a pleasant enough sort of guy, easy on the eyes, quick on the uptake, and surprisingly polite for a world built on suffering and cruelty. Or at least, he would be pleasant enough if it weren't for the disconerting 'oddness' that just seems to ooze from his pores instead of sweat. Doesn't matter if it's a hundred and twenty schorching degrees in the shade, Jack always looks perfectly put together without a visible drop of perspiration on his slim frame. If that weren't enough, there's the downright unnerving way he seems to move, almost like he's not moving at all till he's right up next to you or thirty feet ahead and you never even realized he was putting one foot in front of the other. More than anything else though, are Jack's eyes: Cold, blue, sterling eyes; more cool and more blue than anything has a right to be in this sunscorched world. They're always moving, always watching, and seeing everything, things no normal person has a right to see, without some serious hoodoo or freaky shit going on in your head. Jack's no Hocus or Brainer though, and that jangle in his step is as likely to be more shivs, knives, and blades than you could shake down a whole hardhold for as it is to be anything else of value.</em><br/><br/>It's hard to tell how long Jack's been in Gomorra. He doesn't have any family here, no one knew him from before though some folks had heard of a fella fitting his description around a few other holds, but as far as anyone who's bothered to find out can tell, he just kind of showed up one day, started making himself at home like he'd been there the whole time. Wasn't like newcomers never made their way here, or like he was the only guy in the hold always wearing something with skulls and bones, patterned or the real deal. It was that way he introduced himself as "Jack's Dead", and that when a few hotheads put off by his style tried to run him out, he simply referred to the lot of them as "Dead" and "Not Dead" and damnit if by the end of the day he was right one way or another. By all accounts there should have been a mob calling for Jack's head on a platter, but a few days passed and the only thing that happened was Jack started settling in, making nice with Esther and just about everyone else, no matter what else they might think about him; boy's too hard to hate when he's looking and talking to you, like an old friend you never knew you had . . .