Jacques (Jack)

I am a cartographer, not a killer!

Everyone who meets me always says the same thing: "Eat more Jack, you're so skinny!". I know I am. From when I was a young boy 'til now, I've had this lean (not stringy) figure about me (fifty-eight kilograms and nine hundred sixty grams) and the fact that I'm fairly tall (exactly 180 centimeters) doesn't help my case. Now I'm no tower, but I stand heads and shoulders above quite a few people. If you get past my physiognomy you'll notice blue eyes circled with dark rings and semi-droopy eyebrows (my mom always jokes that I'll be in need of glasses soon, but I beg to differ). Somehow, my skin has remained fair throughout the many days that I've spent scouting this land, although my hair's once dark color is distinctly brunette. Perhaps I ought to get away from the sun eh?

Hm, would this be something to map out or write out I wonder?

For the sake of my writing ability I will not draw a picture mapping out my traits (though that would be pretty funny). Instead I will begin by telling you that I am a man who has lived with one foot in the upper class and the other in starvation and let me tell you: neither fate is one I would condemn myself to. Those who know me would describe me as a humble man, doing a humble service for a meager amount of pay. I know the value of money, but it matters little to me given the many riches that have come upon my family.

Instead I crave adventure. You cannot put a price on excitement nor can you buy it. This was most of the reason that I became a cartographer in the first place. Aside from my good sense of direction, I could sketch things quite easily and accurately (which helped bring in money whenever someone wanted a picture of them drawn). Naturally, I've seen the very edges of my area, yet I want to go further. I want my back to burst at the seams! I want my parchment to be black with all of the landmarks I've drawn on top! I want-well, I think I'm thinking too far ahead.

Despite my topographical and literary knowledge, I understand that I still have much to learn about the Earth and am willing take criticism from any person who so chooses to deal it out. That being said, I'm not afraid of discourse. I will gladly argue a point or principle if I believe that it is correct, be it personal or hypothetical. As with every debate, I ask for evidence to be presented before me before I concede defeat or admit to doing something wrong. That being said, if real evidence is presented to prove me wrong I have no problem admitting it, with emphasis on the real obviously. Because, even more than being wrong I cannot stand liars. If one must answer me unfavorably, I would prefer them to be truthful or not answer at all because lying only serves to sever my trust and has often times been why I lack friends.

Uncertainty on the other hand, is what makes life fun.

Equipment:
Parchment, quills, an inkstone, a journal...oh actual weapons? Well I guess I have a lumberjack's axe, though it's more for utility than fighting. Usually I just use it as a blade or for chopping firewood. Obviously I also carry a change of clothing and provisions, but I must warn you: my magic beans are not for eating. Contrary to popular belief, the plants have been growing like weeds. I keep a few in a small bag to grow when I am low on food, but I will honest, I am tired of beans.

Abilities:

scouting
My vision is focused enough to spot small crevices, landmarks, but has enough berth to look far distances. This has helped me approximate areas, but also figure out the best places to hide. Given my past nature of stealing from giants, it's helpful. Even after I stopped stealing, I retained my fleetness of foot, able to move both quickly and silently if given the motivation.

weaknesses
I eat more than I should, a lot more than I should. Despite my wiry frame I can demolish a banquet in mere hours and have room for dessert. My mother often jokes that I must be half-giant given my appetite and for once, I don't disagree. Additionally, I am not a very proficient fighter. My methods of diffusing a hostile situation consist of running, bluffing, running, hiding, and desperately flailing my axe around.

I slayed one giant. Just one, and it wasn't a story of glory either. I was a boy desperate for adventure, too stupid to know the consequences.

My life began on a small farm with only my mother and I to tend the crops (my father left to find work in the city). At the time our village was not a profitable area since it was abundant with monsters, from werewolves to giants to even dragons. Well, maybe not dragons, but there many types of creatures and they were a terror amongst us since no one could defend against them. Even the strongest man of our village, Jameson, was eaten up by the giant that lived above the clouds (meanwhile I was sucking my thumb and learning to count my fingers). Because of that, everyone lived in fear, including my mother. She always chided me for staying outside too long and would always pull me inside at the smallest shadow to grace our doorstep.

(As an aside, I think my mother is a lovely woman who simply needs rest so all of the following statements are made with love.)

I hated her.

For all of the time I spent reading and learning in school I could never apply that knowledge since the only places I was allowed to go to were the market, our plot of land, and school. I spent all the time I could at school because if the alternative was having to spend the night reassuring her that I would not die I would gladly soak up all the reading I could. For years there was a tension brewing between us, unreleased because I was only ever in her presence long enough for a small lecture to take place so I'm not surprised that it would break out over, of all things, beans.

I can recall it clearly because it was the day that both my and my mother's life changed.

I was at the market, attempting to sell off our oldest cow for a small sack of gold and doing-frankly-a shit job at it. I found companionship in the lady cow and to know that she would be slaughtered was sad indeed. An old man walked by, offering a sack of "magic beans" that were guaranteed to change my fortune if I traded my cow. Now at first, I wondered if it was a trick but he appealed to my adventurous side and I will admit now that I was a very gullible teenager, very gullible.

As one might have guessed, all the tension between my mom boiled over in the form of my mom slapping me and sending my to bed without supper. Frankly, I think it was worth it, but the look of sheer despair still kills me to this day. It was as though the last of our hopes rested on that cow. Well we now know that to be untrue.

In the morning my mother shrieked (for once not out of fear) and pointed me to the enormous beanstalk that I had planted in the prior night and nearly choked me with her hug. Surely all of our problems would be over with all of these beans growing right? Not entirely true or false.  As I gazed on the beanstalk I was overcome with the desire to climb it and see what was above the clouds. I knew that giants lived above, but knowing and seeing were two different things.

That evening, I sneaked out of our shack and climbed. I climbed until I felt my hands bleeding. I climbed until I felt my legs about to fall off. I climbed until I finally stumbled upon a huge castle. Being the tired fool I was, I knocked on the door for food but quickly scurried away when I heard the voice of a giant.

"Fee-fi-fo-fum!    
I smell the blood of an Englishman,    
Be he alive, or be he dead,    
I'll have his bones to grind my bread"

Of course.

The first night wasn't much of a success, but I wanted to go back and explore. It seemed harmless enough so long as I was able to make it to the beanstalk. From what I had seen of the giant, he would be too heavy to climb down (and he certainly wouldn't survive the fall). In the following nights I went back to the giant's castle, mapping out each corridor in order to better understand the area and...occasionally steal things that he didn't need. Well, to be thorough, I stole coins, jewels, and a golden egg laying hen. No big deal given his splendor. On the last night however, I found a marvel of technology: a self-playing harp. It was not run by magic but pure mechanics. I was surprised that such an object could exist!

In my hubris, I thought that I could get away with stealing the harp but alas, the giant woke from his slumber and chased me.

But I would not drop the harp.

I carried it as I raced down the beanstalk, trying to avoid the giant's enormous hands. By the time I landed on the ground, I was already screaming for my mom to get the axe.

(As another aside, I am forever in debt to my mother for not questioning me until after the whole fiasco was over.)

With a few mighty swings, I severed the beanstalk from its roots and sent the giant to his death and became a celebrity all at once.

The tale was that I was some sort of hero, stealing from rich giants and giving to the poor before killing them with my axe. Now this would be fine, except that none of the villagers would stop. Everywhere I went, it felt as though I was being praised for an identity I didn't deserve. My mom though, was able to relax knowing that she finally had the money to move from our godforsaken village and learned to let go of me just a slight.

For a few years the both of us lived in luxury, but I was bored. There was nothing to do but binge on our own wealth. So I thought to myself "are we fated either to be scared or bored?"

I found no answer in my gold, but instead in my maps.

Of the many maps I bought there were many unexplored areas that were just yearning for me to sketch them out. That was when I knew what I had to do.

Theme Song:
The Adventure by Angels and Airwaves
Don't Let Me Fall by B.o.B.

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