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by Lila-Red-King.Of.Ace. 5/8/2015, 12:44 amName: Jackal Havelock Willow-Briar
Gender: Male
Mortal Parent: Hemlock Drake Willow-Briar. Hemlock also had a case of DID, which contributed to Jackal’s development of the disorder. Hemlock had around 14 persona’s, though the most prominent where as follows: Blake, Goddard, Hess, Bilt, and Vance.
Blake, Goddard, and Hess where the calm and protective ones, the level headed and rational ones of the group and often the ones to focus on trying to get better in life.
Bilt and Vance where the most violent two of the group, lashing out for fun and often abusing Hemlock and little Jackal. Verbally or physically, both were terrorized. The outbursts usually ended with one of the good three managing to take control again and attempting to apologize. Though on occasion one of the other personalities would take dominance and worsen the situation with depressing rants.
God Parent: Mania, Goddess of insanity and madness.
Date of Birth: June 6, 1996
Place of Birth: Madrid, Spain.
Hometown/Last Residence: Venice, Italy.
Race/ethnicity: Spanish/Italian
Accent: A mix of Spanish and Italian, though leaning more towards Italian.
Skin Tone: His skin is a pale ivory due to lack of sun and time outside. In some places, it appears to almost glow due to how pale it is.
Eye Color: An odd mix of light grey and pale green, with some darker grey along the edge of the iris and the edge of the pupil.
Hair Color: His hair is as dark as the void of space, inky even.
Hair Length: His hair goes down to the middle of his neck, though in reality it is longer, it just looks shorter due to the wavy curls . His bangs fall down his face, a few curls framing his face and resting on his cheeks just under his eyes.
Height: 5’7
Weight: 100 lbs.
Body Type: With proper care, his body type would be lean and streamlined, much like that of a competitive swimmer, though this is not the case. His body is stuck in a rather emaciated form, his ribs protruding quite horrendously and his bones easily distinguished. He looks like a walking skeleton with skin, pretty much.
Appearance: The most striking thing about him is his face. With a naturally sunken appearance due to his malnutrition and dark bags under his eyes due to lack of sleep, it only stands out more with the sugar-skull make up he always has applied on. It’s rather traditional in design, with only a slightly more creepy effect due to the realism he applies to it. With his eyes closed, he looks like a human skull with curling patterns of red and yellow painted on the cheeks and around the sockets.
His presence is rather haunting, looking rather life-less and inanimate. Like if someone just propped up a skeleton with clothes and a wig in the room. His clothing consists of a worm black hoodie with a white curling pattern on the hem, black skinny jeans torn at the ends, a studded black belt, and knee high black zombie stomper design boots. The hoodie hangs from his body in a desperate manner and seems a few sizes too big, able to cover his arms and hands with no problem, and even his pants despite being skinny jeans seem to lack a proper fit on him, having the baggy effect that flared jeans would have. Compared to his form, the boots seem rather large and almost comical, even when laced as tight as he can get them they seem a little around his calf and shin.
His stance is like one of someone who has given up, slouched with dangling arms and swaying slightly in place as if it was difficult to find the will to remain standing. His face is always pointed at the floor, rarely lifting his head up to look at others or his surroundings. Constant shivers shake and tremble his delicate form, as if he’s constantly cold despite his hoodie, even random twitches and spasms will appear every now and then to make him jump. Along with these twitches or spasms, whenever one causes him to throw his head back briefly or lift it up to make his face visible, he carries them same pained and terrified expression, like he knows what’s happening but knows not how to stop its toll on him. He seems disconnected to what goes on around him most of the time, flinching at contact that was never there or turning his head towards noises that only he picked up.
He looks as if he’s constantly stuck in a state of trauma, teetering on the edge of sanity and insanity, he gives the impression of mental instability.
Weapon: His hands, legs, teeth, mind. In his rare moments where he isn’t shaking like an earthquake, he is able to wield most weapons *though he does better with sabers and blunt weapons such as baseball bats*
Armor: Traditional camp armor.
Pet(s): He has a few pets littering his mind, though they aren’t physical. You’ll often hear him muttering about a cat named Sylvester and a dog called Vincent.
Skills/Talents: He picks up on new skills surprisingly quickly, showing he has unnaturally high intelligence. Within a week, he mastered piano and Spanish guitar, even picked up on the basic structure of a few languages. He’s a fast learner. He’s also got a rather amazing talent for music, expert in many fields ranging from opera to banjo. He’s also an exceptional dancer, specializing in flamenco and swing. His memory is also photographic and exceptional, able to recall things from as early as 1 year old. In mathematics, he’s able to calculate complicated equations in his head in seconds, and it’s his best subject by far. He also has a rather high adrenaline rush when in combat, which increases his strength and speed, also dulls his ability to sense pain. However, this can become a bad thing after battle when any injuries he received begin to take their toll on him. Often times he’ll be rather weak and out for a few days, depending on the level of panic he experienced and whether or not Knick or Angelo took control during the fight.
Flaws: He can’t think for very long, that’s when the ‘visions’ start pouring in and he has to distract himself with something different. He also has several mental disorders, the most obvious being schizophrenia and at times even Multiple Personality Disorder (Or Dissociative Identity Disorder) and OCD. His OCD is linked to when things are out of their ‘place’ or categorized in a way he doesn’t like or feel comfortable with. When things are like this, he gets twitchy and can even be thrown into panic attacks. He suffers from frequent mental blackouts as well, during these blackouts he becomes rather violent, often lashing out at people nearby or destroying anything within his grasp. Another occurrence is his mini breakdowns which happen whenever he experiences high levels of nervousness and anxiety. During these breakdowns, he begins rocking back and forth, rambling on and switching between random languages or voice pitch, in the worst ones he breaks into uncontrollable laughter and won’t stop for minutes on end before the action tires him out enough to calm down again.
He also has trouble with weapons, as his shaking prevents him from standing steady. He’s really only good at hand to hand combat and dodging.
For his DID, his other sides have names: Angelo, Rat, Leila, Deathman, and Knick. Angelo is the destructive and violent side that appears during his mental blackouts, caused by a need to vent out any anger he stows away in his mind and also a personified version of the visions he is constantly seeing. Angelo is able to keep still and steady, even confident and arrogant. He’s labeled as the most sadistic of the four, as well as being the most fearless as he constantly pulls dangerous stunts such as knife juggling and swallowing swords. He’s also known to interact with others in a fairly comfortable manner. Angelo is said to be around 17, according to Jackal, and tends to be the one that is most dominant due to his stubbornness and frightening temper.
Rat is his humorous side, using laughter to filter out any nervousness and often playing cruel jokes on those around him. Rather childish in mannerisms, he’s called Rat due to the odd habit of clicking his front teeth and tapping his fingers against something while humming “Rat-a-tat-tat.” Under his breath repeatedly. Often times this persona will state whatever it dislikes rather bluntly and its views on the world are rather dark, stating that life is nothing more than a game of puppets, with the puppeteer always coming out on top no matter what. Better to quit the game than continue it. Rat is 22 years of age, second oldest of the bunch, and will often try to use his older age to take dominance from Knick and Leila.
Knick is his terrorized side, his presence signaled by loud screaming and backing into corners. This is when all the pain and fear Jackal keeps bottled up leaks out in the form of violent spasms, screaming, crying, and often times unintended self harm. Knick cannot stand people entering his five foot radius if space, enter it and he is likely to lash out violently due to panic. He is considered to be the most unpredictable of the four, and it is advised not to approach when he is in control. Knick is placed at about 17 years of age, though he still has many childish fears and habits, such as messing with objects or tugging on his hair.
Leila is the gentle side, you can tell it’s her when he goes to smooth his hair down and part his hair to the right for a more feminine appearance. She took on the motherly role in Jackal’s life, often appearing when he needs to be calmed down or saved from a dangerous action due to the other sides. Knick seems to take Leila’s side against Angelo and Rat, tentative but persistent when it comes to holding the other two back from taking dominance over Jackal’s mind while she’s around. She is able to keep from shaking and seems to be rather stable in manner, able to socialize with others with relative ease, though she does take offense to being referred to as male. Her age, as told by Jackal, is 16. She’ll often come out after the appearance of one of the other three, usually to apologize and attempt to fix whatever they broke or to take Jackal to the infirmary, since she knows he’d likely be too frightened and depressed to go himself.
There is one more guardian in his mind, he’s labeled them as Deathman. Deathman seems to have the most control of them all, able to calm the fights between the other personas and hold them back whenever they get rowdy. However, Deathman does not always restrain the personas. They are a way for coping for Jackal, he believes that holding them back too often would only worsen the boys condition, so he will let them reign free when he deems it is needed. Though, if they show any sign of being too outwardly violent or showing any drastic intentions such as murder, he will step in to stop them. He’s able to easily switch in and out of command, even able to push others into dominance, and will usually push Leila into dominance as she is the comforter. He signifies his presence by gaining a rather strict posture, crossing his arms and calming his shaking to just a foot tap to a 4/4 time beat, his favorite time signature. He’s rather stoic in personality, often keeping a stern expression and mainly choosing to communicate through heavily accented and mumbled words or a few simple grunts. In age, Jackal says Deathman is about 35.
Strengths: He has a knack for reading emotions and knowing when to keep quiet and when to voice his comments, though this is only when he is in his Jackal mode. He is also easily able to pick up when someone is lying or telling the truth. Has a natural ability when it comes to avoiding his opponent, his always hyperactive mind helping him react at a quick pace, it also comes in handy with fast paced video games. He rules at Smash Bros.
Weaknesses: The shaking, the unsteadiness, the need for order, DID, Schizophrenia, and his problem with being social, unpredictable hostility at times, insomnia,
Likes: Cats, order, dancing, reading, math, hugs, singing, instruments, the color blue, classical music and Spanish guitar, techno music and occasionally dubstep and heavy metal, and lemon cookies.
Dislikes: Disorder, his other personalities, the visions, the color orange, the number 6, cranberries, popping balloons, lying, silence, horror movies, tight dark spaces.
Fears: Being alone, Angelo, Rat, Knick, his nightmares, water that’s more than ankle deep, how big the ocean is, the dark.
Personality: Naturally, Jackal is a very unstable young man. Flinching at quick movement, jumping at sudden sounds, even screaming when something he can’t see touches him. He’s very quiet unless he’s taken on a different persona, always afraid to approach others in case of scaring them off with his condition, and always living in a perpetual state of pure terror and complete self loathing.
He prefers to suffer in solitude rather than force his problems onto others, fearing they might not be able to handle the weight of his burden. He is afraid of corrupting others more-so than he is of scaring them. He can be easily distracted, a trait he is forever thankful for, yet he is also infinitely curious, which he hates. Curiosity leads to thinking, thinking leads to high brain activity, high brain activity leads to the visions becoming more intense and vibrant, which he wishes to avoid at all times.
However, if you could take away his issues, you’d find that he’s a very childish and affectionate person. He can get easily attached to a person who can handle him, or rather tries to handle him, and will willingly share with them his thoughts and opinions on things. He’ll even go so far as to show the confused and lost child at the core of his soul, doing so by asking to hold hands to be led somewhere or asking for some help going to sleep. When scared, he’ll seek the person out for comfort, often doing so be wiggling under their arm and pressing close in silent question for either a hug or pat on the back to show support. He’s much like a scared puppy, really.
Though there is his darker side, one which enjoys violence. This side is present even when Angelo is dormant, as Angelo is only there to release and express this enjoyment. Rat as well is there to express these feelings in a non-violent manner, though Knick is made to show his inner fear towards these speculations and thoughts. He’ll try his best to hide his satisfaction at the thought of death, murder, suicide, most dark acts in general, which leads to Angelo bursting out once he can’t hold back anymore. Talking about these thoughts to a person those help, though they can get rather dark and frightening. It is often secret desires to harm those he observes, sometimes for things he knows they’ve done or just to vent frustration, sometimes he admits it was just for some fun, though it is unclear as to how many thoughts are like that.
Powers:
Vision share: Allows him to transmit his visions to an opponent in order to distract them, however a mental link must first be established. This can be done by either eye contact *at least five seconds long* or physical contact. It’d take about 2 posts, and he’d be able to use it again 10 posts later.
- Poltergeist: Whenever around a Maniae, he is able to bend them to his will with ease and ask for assistance. Assistance either comes from physical help in battle, or allowing him to feed off their insanity to boost his strength and speed. It will usually come in the form of physical aid, as he has yet to be able to control himself when he feeds off of insanity. Feeding off of it turns him into a rather hostile character, and often times he’ll give himself major injuries through accident or on purpose, depends on how much he’s got flowing through him.
- Warp: This lets him enter his own mind when sleeping, close to being described as realistic nightmares. There are shadows located here, modeled after the people he has observed down to the finest detail, personality wise. These apparitions don’t have features, just appear as silhouettes with voices and big, circular white eyes and grins. They look a bit like they were scribbled. He can fashion the landscape to any scene he has seen or been in before, manipulate the plain to his will, though he is unable to control the shadows that walk here. They do as they wish. His other personalities also lurk here, though they look like clones of him in varying colors. He is able to bring others into this place with him. Maniae are able to enter his mind without the need to physical contact, however, but he tends to stay away from them when and if they do.
- Insight: Lets him detect the madness and insanity in ones soul, he often uses this to gauge how much of a threat someone else poses. It’s like a little warning system. If they seem to have a good control over it, he doesn’t seem as twitchy, though he still remains very wary.
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Social Status: Loner
Summer or Year Rounder: Year Rounder
Years at Camp: 3
Life Before Camp: Life before camp was a dark and terrifying time. As a child, there was the ever constant threat of physical abuse from an alcoholic mother and the unpredictability of a father with DID, and often times he’d be outside on his own. They didn’t grow up in the best part of their town, living in one of the darker neighborhoods. As such he was always surrounded by people who dealt in illegal activity, homeless people, and addicts. At age 8, he’d often talk to the homeless man on the corner of the street, listening closely to the man’s dim view on life as they watched cars blaze by on a lazy afternoon. With little to no light in his life, he adopted ways of coping. His DID set in at age 10, it was sort of a line of defense and protection against his father’s own case of DID. The first person he developed was Deathman, utilizing the others stoicism to mask his hurt and pain in favor of a stronger personality that seemed stone cold and untouchable.
Though, as his father’s personas began to leak out around him more and more, he developed the others in the following order: Leila, Angelo, Rat, and Knick. At first the persona’s didn’t know of each other, causing them to try and take control at once at some points, which brought about the voices in his head shouting at him. Rat shouted things to degrade and depress him, Angelo usually tried to push him towards suicide, Leila would calm him down and try to soothe him back into a neutral state, Knick would help him get the tears out and learn to protect himself, and Deathman would be a quiet support with some dry humor tossed in to distract him from the dark thoughts. The schizophrenia was diagnosed at age 14, when the visions began appearing and he’d hear the thoughts of his persona. At this point, they were beginning to notice each other and starting to set up communications. Deathman was the first to pick up on all of them, helping establish their little group, though he was careful to make sure he remained in his spot as the strongest. He usually forced the switches onto Jackal, mostly to get him out of the environment and to release the stress on the boy’s body.
The homeless man with whom Jackal had befriended noticed the boys change and convinced some neighbors to call social services, concerned for the boy’s mental state. When social services arrived, they were greeted with the disturbing scene of Angelo holding a knife to his father’s throat, cursing up a storm as the man struggled to get free from the pointed blade. Deemed too unstable, they put him in a mental hospital to be cared for and treated. His father, however, knew better. Well, at least three of his personas did.
With Blake in charge, he tied Jackal up and put him in the car, driving off to the airport. He had a friend who was a pilot and pleaded and begged with all he could to be let on the plane, he had to get Jackal to Camp Half-Blood. After much persuasion, the friend agreed to let them stow-away on the next flight he would pilot to New York. They ended up hiding away in the Airport for a week or two, the friend helping them keep hidden until the flight came and they were able to sneak on.
Then, once they landed in New York, Hemlock hijacked a car and drove them to the Camp. That’s that, pretty much.
Role-playing Example:
What was this place?
A never ending red hall filled his vision once his odd eyes managed to clear up. The walls seemed to be satin, and the carpet some odd kind of fur? Well, whatever it was, it seemed rather soft. Paintings were neatly lined up on the satin walls, depicting scenes of a lovely picnic and day at the amusement park. He found himself caught by the smiles on the faces of the people, tiltng his head at the clear joy they so easily expressed. They seemed like rather lovely people, he thought, he’d like to be able to join them later if he could.
In poor imitation, he copied the smile of a young man seated on the front row of a roller coaster ride, though his copy came out crooked and more confused in tone. Hm, he never could get the hang of smiles…
With slow steps, he continued on down this long hallway, turning his head to examine the paintings on each side of the hallway. It seemed to be a comic, really, with even a few speech bubbles here and there.
“My, what a lovely day for a picnic on the hill!” A british looking lady with a poofy blue dress and rather normal sun-hat had said, holding a tea-cup as she spoke with the gentleman across from her on the blanket.
“Indeed. Saturdays truly do have a habit of being rather pleasant. “He responded, one hand reaching up to adjust his suit jacket and tie while the other hand held what appeared to be a scone. He seemed rather calm, dark eyes taking in the sight of his conversation companion and her bright green dress.
Or was the dress blue?
Sometimes they looked the same. Either way, it was still a fine dress.
He continued his stroll down the hall, now just lost in his own thoughts of the rather lovely and well-drawn scenes. He failed to notice how the paintings were slowly taking a turn of the worst, changing to depict satanic rituals and chants, sometimes even implied scenes of a murder or decapitation. If he had been allowed, he would have continued on his thoughtful stroll for hours on end, though a cry in the distance decided to disrupt his peaceful thinking.
It sounded like that of a woman, her shrill voice piercing his heart and sending a shock-wave of panic down his spine. Upon natural instinct, he looked around for the source, but soon found that perhaps he should have just kept walking.
The woman in the dress from earlier, in the paintings far back, was now being brutally cut up by her companion, the captivating calm expression he showed earlier now only being quite disturbing in nature. The blood pouring from his wounds didn’t seem to bother him at all, only spurring him forwards as she leaked a river of lovely and vibrant crimson.
The sharp scent of something metallic was filling the air, making him woozy as he swayed from the scent. Whether it was disgust or perhaps the most shameful of ecstasy, he didn’t know, and was much too frightened to find out. He had to get away before the killer could come for him, before he realized the crime had been seen. Jackal could already hear steady footsteps coming from behind him, he could already imagine the calm and almost sweet expression in those dark eyes and refined face.
Urging forward, he ran as fast as he could in his dizzied state, he begged himself not to fall even as the hallway seemed to extend and extend endlessly. The paintings of the scene flashed by him, the man looking up to observe Jackal in an almost shock, standing up and walking closer and closer to the foreground of the painting. Jackal tried to run faster, screaming in his wild panic with tears streaking down his face in fear. Those dark eyes….those deep pools of shadows and empty hollow words of peace.
Such things could not exist in a world where gruesome things could happen. What light could there possibly be if everyone was hurting? What light was there when he had seen the woman die? What light could there be in the dizzying pleasure he derived from seeing her blood flow from slices and cuts like a dazzling rive on a Sunday morning? There was only black. A marvelous, breath-taking dark in which the light could not possibly hope to shine.
His run switched from fear and panic to just a way of taking out energy, his eyes turning to look at the paintings, now portraits of the man from earlier. Yes, those footsteps were not chasing him, but leading him to something freeing. To a place where he could break the chains of morality and simply do what all people where meant to do. Destroy. With great leaps and bounds he bolted down this hallway with a cackling roar of laughter that shook the walls with its shrill tone, now seeking to use the hall as a guide rather than an escape.
“Round and round the wheel goes, where it stops nobody knows!”
The man in the portrait sang out in a low tone, and Jackal couldn’t help but sing his agreement as his vision began to fade to nothing but that silent beauty called darkness.
His eyes opened to a bright light, ears ringing and body panting for breath that he desperately needed. His lungs ached as the sweet kiss of oxygen met them, causing him to collapse to his weak and shaking knees in relief. What had happened? All he recalled was laughter and red, lots of red.
He blinked his eyes quickly to rid the fog covering them, he had a growing sense of dread in his stomach as he realized what had taken place. Yes, another blackout this week. That makes 3. He looked around the destruction he had wreaked, frowning as he realized it was his cabin. There were broken game boards on the floor, scattered solitaire cards, ripped bed sheets and a broken and smashed acoustic guitar beyond repair. He had even managed to carve long scratches into the wooden walls, traces of blood smeared into them to show that he had managed to damage his hands yet again. Saddened grey and green eyes looked to skeletal hands with a cold and familiar frown, seeing the ripped skin and dried blood that had dripped down onto his palms, almost covering his hands entirely. There was a brief moment of breathlessness, pulling a wheezing gasp from him as he swayed in place.
One second later and Leila was sighing as she stared at the destruction around her, tight frown on her face as she pieced together what had happened. “Damn it Angelo, you’re a jerk….” With that, she set about to try to clear things up, moving bits and pieces of destroyed furniture to the sides of the room with her feet, taking care to not use her damaged and aching fingers. This would be the second time this week, and it was only Wednesday. She was beginning to get a little more irritable, it showed in the way she didn’t even bother to try and part her hair this time.
‘Leila, take a rest. I can do this one.’
A faint smile brushed across her lips as she recognized the voice of Deathman, almost chuckling at his thick accent despite her exhaustion. It would be nice to rest, even for a little bit, but this was her job. Besides, Angelo would only pick on her for her exhaustion, and she didn’t want Jackal to go through any more than he just did. “No, Deathman, I can do this. Besides, I need to get stronger, I can’t keep on relying on Knick and you to help fight the other two dunces off.” She headed for the door, doing her best to open it with both palms rather than her fingers to avoid further injury, and stepped out into the nice spring day outside.
‘Just be careful, don’t push yourself.’
Deathman gave a small sigh to show his concern, though let the matter be as Leila walked them through the camp and towards the infirmary. A few campers looked down at her hands, wincing with a few grimaces and judgemental looks, others however seemed to roll their eyes in a “Not this again manner.” Before returning to their activity. She could feel Jackal’s discomfort and nervousness from the stares, though she did her best to encourage him to just hold out a little bit longer until they were at the infirmary.
She found herself wishing that this would be the last time she’d have to take him here, yet selfishly she wished the trips wouldn’t end.
Notes: He likes sitting in odd places and in odd positions. Like a cat, he prefers high places or places he can hide under, like tables or countertops.
He has a slight case of Synthesia, associating sound with smell and color with touch. He likes blue the best, it feels like tree bark to him.
Gender: Male
Mortal Parent: Hemlock Drake Willow-Briar. Hemlock also had a case of DID, which contributed to Jackal’s development of the disorder. Hemlock had around 14 persona’s, though the most prominent where as follows: Blake, Goddard, Hess, Bilt, and Vance.
Blake, Goddard, and Hess where the calm and protective ones, the level headed and rational ones of the group and often the ones to focus on trying to get better in life.
Bilt and Vance where the most violent two of the group, lashing out for fun and often abusing Hemlock and little Jackal. Verbally or physically, both were terrorized. The outbursts usually ended with one of the good three managing to take control again and attempting to apologize. Though on occasion one of the other personalities would take dominance and worsen the situation with depressing rants.
God Parent: Mania, Goddess of insanity and madness.
Date of Birth: June 6, 1996
Place of Birth: Madrid, Spain.
Hometown/Last Residence: Venice, Italy.
Race/ethnicity: Spanish/Italian
Accent: A mix of Spanish and Italian, though leaning more towards Italian.
Skin Tone: His skin is a pale ivory due to lack of sun and time outside. In some places, it appears to almost glow due to how pale it is.
Eye Color: An odd mix of light grey and pale green, with some darker grey along the edge of the iris and the edge of the pupil.
Hair Color: His hair is as dark as the void of space, inky even.
Hair Length: His hair goes down to the middle of his neck, though in reality it is longer, it just looks shorter due to the wavy curls . His bangs fall down his face, a few curls framing his face and resting on his cheeks just under his eyes.
Height: 5’7
Weight: 100 lbs.
Body Type: With proper care, his body type would be lean and streamlined, much like that of a competitive swimmer, though this is not the case. His body is stuck in a rather emaciated form, his ribs protruding quite horrendously and his bones easily distinguished. He looks like a walking skeleton with skin, pretty much.
Appearance: The most striking thing about him is his face. With a naturally sunken appearance due to his malnutrition and dark bags under his eyes due to lack of sleep, it only stands out more with the sugar-skull make up he always has applied on. It’s rather traditional in design, with only a slightly more creepy effect due to the realism he applies to it. With his eyes closed, he looks like a human skull with curling patterns of red and yellow painted on the cheeks and around the sockets.
His presence is rather haunting, looking rather life-less and inanimate. Like if someone just propped up a skeleton with clothes and a wig in the room. His clothing consists of a worm black hoodie with a white curling pattern on the hem, black skinny jeans torn at the ends, a studded black belt, and knee high black zombie stomper design boots. The hoodie hangs from his body in a desperate manner and seems a few sizes too big, able to cover his arms and hands with no problem, and even his pants despite being skinny jeans seem to lack a proper fit on him, having the baggy effect that flared jeans would have. Compared to his form, the boots seem rather large and almost comical, even when laced as tight as he can get them they seem a little around his calf and shin.
His stance is like one of someone who has given up, slouched with dangling arms and swaying slightly in place as if it was difficult to find the will to remain standing. His face is always pointed at the floor, rarely lifting his head up to look at others or his surroundings. Constant shivers shake and tremble his delicate form, as if he’s constantly cold despite his hoodie, even random twitches and spasms will appear every now and then to make him jump. Along with these twitches or spasms, whenever one causes him to throw his head back briefly or lift it up to make his face visible, he carries them same pained and terrified expression, like he knows what’s happening but knows not how to stop its toll on him. He seems disconnected to what goes on around him most of the time, flinching at contact that was never there or turning his head towards noises that only he picked up.
He looks as if he’s constantly stuck in a state of trauma, teetering on the edge of sanity and insanity, he gives the impression of mental instability.
Weapon: His hands, legs, teeth, mind. In his rare moments where he isn’t shaking like an earthquake, he is able to wield most weapons *though he does better with sabers and blunt weapons such as baseball bats*
Armor: Traditional camp armor.
Pet(s): He has a few pets littering his mind, though they aren’t physical. You’ll often hear him muttering about a cat named Sylvester and a dog called Vincent.
Skills/Talents: He picks up on new skills surprisingly quickly, showing he has unnaturally high intelligence. Within a week, he mastered piano and Spanish guitar, even picked up on the basic structure of a few languages. He’s a fast learner. He’s also got a rather amazing talent for music, expert in many fields ranging from opera to banjo. He’s also an exceptional dancer, specializing in flamenco and swing. His memory is also photographic and exceptional, able to recall things from as early as 1 year old. In mathematics, he’s able to calculate complicated equations in his head in seconds, and it’s his best subject by far. He also has a rather high adrenaline rush when in combat, which increases his strength and speed, also dulls his ability to sense pain. However, this can become a bad thing after battle when any injuries he received begin to take their toll on him. Often times he’ll be rather weak and out for a few days, depending on the level of panic he experienced and whether or not Knick or Angelo took control during the fight.
Flaws: He can’t think for very long, that’s when the ‘visions’ start pouring in and he has to distract himself with something different. He also has several mental disorders, the most obvious being schizophrenia and at times even Multiple Personality Disorder (Or Dissociative Identity Disorder) and OCD. His OCD is linked to when things are out of their ‘place’ or categorized in a way he doesn’t like or feel comfortable with. When things are like this, he gets twitchy and can even be thrown into panic attacks. He suffers from frequent mental blackouts as well, during these blackouts he becomes rather violent, often lashing out at people nearby or destroying anything within his grasp. Another occurrence is his mini breakdowns which happen whenever he experiences high levels of nervousness and anxiety. During these breakdowns, he begins rocking back and forth, rambling on and switching between random languages or voice pitch, in the worst ones he breaks into uncontrollable laughter and won’t stop for minutes on end before the action tires him out enough to calm down again.
He also has trouble with weapons, as his shaking prevents him from standing steady. He’s really only good at hand to hand combat and dodging.
For his DID, his other sides have names: Angelo, Rat, Leila, Deathman, and Knick. Angelo is the destructive and violent side that appears during his mental blackouts, caused by a need to vent out any anger he stows away in his mind and also a personified version of the visions he is constantly seeing. Angelo is able to keep still and steady, even confident and arrogant. He’s labeled as the most sadistic of the four, as well as being the most fearless as he constantly pulls dangerous stunts such as knife juggling and swallowing swords. He’s also known to interact with others in a fairly comfortable manner. Angelo is said to be around 17, according to Jackal, and tends to be the one that is most dominant due to his stubbornness and frightening temper.
Rat is his humorous side, using laughter to filter out any nervousness and often playing cruel jokes on those around him. Rather childish in mannerisms, he’s called Rat due to the odd habit of clicking his front teeth and tapping his fingers against something while humming “Rat-a-tat-tat.” Under his breath repeatedly. Often times this persona will state whatever it dislikes rather bluntly and its views on the world are rather dark, stating that life is nothing more than a game of puppets, with the puppeteer always coming out on top no matter what. Better to quit the game than continue it. Rat is 22 years of age, second oldest of the bunch, and will often try to use his older age to take dominance from Knick and Leila.
Knick is his terrorized side, his presence signaled by loud screaming and backing into corners. This is when all the pain and fear Jackal keeps bottled up leaks out in the form of violent spasms, screaming, crying, and often times unintended self harm. Knick cannot stand people entering his five foot radius if space, enter it and he is likely to lash out violently due to panic. He is considered to be the most unpredictable of the four, and it is advised not to approach when he is in control. Knick is placed at about 17 years of age, though he still has many childish fears and habits, such as messing with objects or tugging on his hair.
Leila is the gentle side, you can tell it’s her when he goes to smooth his hair down and part his hair to the right for a more feminine appearance. She took on the motherly role in Jackal’s life, often appearing when he needs to be calmed down or saved from a dangerous action due to the other sides. Knick seems to take Leila’s side against Angelo and Rat, tentative but persistent when it comes to holding the other two back from taking dominance over Jackal’s mind while she’s around. She is able to keep from shaking and seems to be rather stable in manner, able to socialize with others with relative ease, though she does take offense to being referred to as male. Her age, as told by Jackal, is 16. She’ll often come out after the appearance of one of the other three, usually to apologize and attempt to fix whatever they broke or to take Jackal to the infirmary, since she knows he’d likely be too frightened and depressed to go himself.
There is one more guardian in his mind, he’s labeled them as Deathman. Deathman seems to have the most control of them all, able to calm the fights between the other personas and hold them back whenever they get rowdy. However, Deathman does not always restrain the personas. They are a way for coping for Jackal, he believes that holding them back too often would only worsen the boys condition, so he will let them reign free when he deems it is needed. Though, if they show any sign of being too outwardly violent or showing any drastic intentions such as murder, he will step in to stop them. He’s able to easily switch in and out of command, even able to push others into dominance, and will usually push Leila into dominance as she is the comforter. He signifies his presence by gaining a rather strict posture, crossing his arms and calming his shaking to just a foot tap to a 4/4 time beat, his favorite time signature. He’s rather stoic in personality, often keeping a stern expression and mainly choosing to communicate through heavily accented and mumbled words or a few simple grunts. In age, Jackal says Deathman is about 35.
Strengths: He has a knack for reading emotions and knowing when to keep quiet and when to voice his comments, though this is only when he is in his Jackal mode. He is also easily able to pick up when someone is lying or telling the truth. Has a natural ability when it comes to avoiding his opponent, his always hyperactive mind helping him react at a quick pace, it also comes in handy with fast paced video games. He rules at Smash Bros.
Weaknesses: The shaking, the unsteadiness, the need for order, DID, Schizophrenia, and his problem with being social, unpredictable hostility at times, insomnia,
Likes: Cats, order, dancing, reading, math, hugs, singing, instruments, the color blue, classical music and Spanish guitar, techno music and occasionally dubstep and heavy metal, and lemon cookies.
Dislikes: Disorder, his other personalities, the visions, the color orange, the number 6, cranberries, popping balloons, lying, silence, horror movies, tight dark spaces.
Fears: Being alone, Angelo, Rat, Knick, his nightmares, water that’s more than ankle deep, how big the ocean is, the dark.
Personality: Naturally, Jackal is a very unstable young man. Flinching at quick movement, jumping at sudden sounds, even screaming when something he can’t see touches him. He’s very quiet unless he’s taken on a different persona, always afraid to approach others in case of scaring them off with his condition, and always living in a perpetual state of pure terror and complete self loathing.
He prefers to suffer in solitude rather than force his problems onto others, fearing they might not be able to handle the weight of his burden. He is afraid of corrupting others more-so than he is of scaring them. He can be easily distracted, a trait he is forever thankful for, yet he is also infinitely curious, which he hates. Curiosity leads to thinking, thinking leads to high brain activity, high brain activity leads to the visions becoming more intense and vibrant, which he wishes to avoid at all times.
However, if you could take away his issues, you’d find that he’s a very childish and affectionate person. He can get easily attached to a person who can handle him, or rather tries to handle him, and will willingly share with them his thoughts and opinions on things. He’ll even go so far as to show the confused and lost child at the core of his soul, doing so by asking to hold hands to be led somewhere or asking for some help going to sleep. When scared, he’ll seek the person out for comfort, often doing so be wiggling under their arm and pressing close in silent question for either a hug or pat on the back to show support. He’s much like a scared puppy, really.
Though there is his darker side, one which enjoys violence. This side is present even when Angelo is dormant, as Angelo is only there to release and express this enjoyment. Rat as well is there to express these feelings in a non-violent manner, though Knick is made to show his inner fear towards these speculations and thoughts. He’ll try his best to hide his satisfaction at the thought of death, murder, suicide, most dark acts in general, which leads to Angelo bursting out once he can’t hold back anymore. Talking about these thoughts to a person those help, though they can get rather dark and frightening. It is often secret desires to harm those he observes, sometimes for things he knows they’ve done or just to vent frustration, sometimes he admits it was just for some fun, though it is unclear as to how many thoughts are like that.
Powers:
Vision share: Allows him to transmit his visions to an opponent in order to distract them, however a mental link must first be established. This can be done by either eye contact *at least five seconds long* or physical contact. It’d take about 2 posts, and he’d be able to use it again 10 posts later.
- Poltergeist: Whenever around a Maniae, he is able to bend them to his will with ease and ask for assistance. Assistance either comes from physical help in battle, or allowing him to feed off their insanity to boost his strength and speed. It will usually come in the form of physical aid, as he has yet to be able to control himself when he feeds off of insanity. Feeding off of it turns him into a rather hostile character, and often times he’ll give himself major injuries through accident or on purpose, depends on how much he’s got flowing through him.
- Warp: This lets him enter his own mind when sleeping, close to being described as realistic nightmares. There are shadows located here, modeled after the people he has observed down to the finest detail, personality wise. These apparitions don’t have features, just appear as silhouettes with voices and big, circular white eyes and grins. They look a bit like they were scribbled. He can fashion the landscape to any scene he has seen or been in before, manipulate the plain to his will, though he is unable to control the shadows that walk here. They do as they wish. His other personalities also lurk here, though they look like clones of him in varying colors. He is able to bring others into this place with him. Maniae are able to enter his mind without the need to physical contact, however, but he tends to stay away from them when and if they do.
- Insight: Lets him detect the madness and insanity in ones soul, he often uses this to gauge how much of a threat someone else poses. It’s like a little warning system. If they seem to have a good control over it, he doesn’t seem as twitchy, though he still remains very wary.
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Social Status: Loner
Summer or Year Rounder: Year Rounder
Years at Camp: 3
Life Before Camp: Life before camp was a dark and terrifying time. As a child, there was the ever constant threat of physical abuse from an alcoholic mother and the unpredictability of a father with DID, and often times he’d be outside on his own. They didn’t grow up in the best part of their town, living in one of the darker neighborhoods. As such he was always surrounded by people who dealt in illegal activity, homeless people, and addicts. At age 8, he’d often talk to the homeless man on the corner of the street, listening closely to the man’s dim view on life as they watched cars blaze by on a lazy afternoon. With little to no light in his life, he adopted ways of coping. His DID set in at age 10, it was sort of a line of defense and protection against his father’s own case of DID. The first person he developed was Deathman, utilizing the others stoicism to mask his hurt and pain in favor of a stronger personality that seemed stone cold and untouchable.
Though, as his father’s personas began to leak out around him more and more, he developed the others in the following order: Leila, Angelo, Rat, and Knick. At first the persona’s didn’t know of each other, causing them to try and take control at once at some points, which brought about the voices in his head shouting at him. Rat shouted things to degrade and depress him, Angelo usually tried to push him towards suicide, Leila would calm him down and try to soothe him back into a neutral state, Knick would help him get the tears out and learn to protect himself, and Deathman would be a quiet support with some dry humor tossed in to distract him from the dark thoughts. The schizophrenia was diagnosed at age 14, when the visions began appearing and he’d hear the thoughts of his persona. At this point, they were beginning to notice each other and starting to set up communications. Deathman was the first to pick up on all of them, helping establish their little group, though he was careful to make sure he remained in his spot as the strongest. He usually forced the switches onto Jackal, mostly to get him out of the environment and to release the stress on the boy’s body.
The homeless man with whom Jackal had befriended noticed the boys change and convinced some neighbors to call social services, concerned for the boy’s mental state. When social services arrived, they were greeted with the disturbing scene of Angelo holding a knife to his father’s throat, cursing up a storm as the man struggled to get free from the pointed blade. Deemed too unstable, they put him in a mental hospital to be cared for and treated. His father, however, knew better. Well, at least three of his personas did.
With Blake in charge, he tied Jackal up and put him in the car, driving off to the airport. He had a friend who was a pilot and pleaded and begged with all he could to be let on the plane, he had to get Jackal to Camp Half-Blood. After much persuasion, the friend agreed to let them stow-away on the next flight he would pilot to New York. They ended up hiding away in the Airport for a week or two, the friend helping them keep hidden until the flight came and they were able to sneak on.
Then, once they landed in New York, Hemlock hijacked a car and drove them to the Camp. That’s that, pretty much.
Role-playing Example:
What was this place?
A never ending red hall filled his vision once his odd eyes managed to clear up. The walls seemed to be satin, and the carpet some odd kind of fur? Well, whatever it was, it seemed rather soft. Paintings were neatly lined up on the satin walls, depicting scenes of a lovely picnic and day at the amusement park. He found himself caught by the smiles on the faces of the people, tiltng his head at the clear joy they so easily expressed. They seemed like rather lovely people, he thought, he’d like to be able to join them later if he could.
In poor imitation, he copied the smile of a young man seated on the front row of a roller coaster ride, though his copy came out crooked and more confused in tone. Hm, he never could get the hang of smiles…
With slow steps, he continued on down this long hallway, turning his head to examine the paintings on each side of the hallway. It seemed to be a comic, really, with even a few speech bubbles here and there.
“My, what a lovely day for a picnic on the hill!” A british looking lady with a poofy blue dress and rather normal sun-hat had said, holding a tea-cup as she spoke with the gentleman across from her on the blanket.
“Indeed. Saturdays truly do have a habit of being rather pleasant. “He responded, one hand reaching up to adjust his suit jacket and tie while the other hand held what appeared to be a scone. He seemed rather calm, dark eyes taking in the sight of his conversation companion and her bright green dress.
Or was the dress blue?
Sometimes they looked the same. Either way, it was still a fine dress.
He continued his stroll down the hall, now just lost in his own thoughts of the rather lovely and well-drawn scenes. He failed to notice how the paintings were slowly taking a turn of the worst, changing to depict satanic rituals and chants, sometimes even implied scenes of a murder or decapitation. If he had been allowed, he would have continued on his thoughtful stroll for hours on end, though a cry in the distance decided to disrupt his peaceful thinking.
It sounded like that of a woman, her shrill voice piercing his heart and sending a shock-wave of panic down his spine. Upon natural instinct, he looked around for the source, but soon found that perhaps he should have just kept walking.
The woman in the dress from earlier, in the paintings far back, was now being brutally cut up by her companion, the captivating calm expression he showed earlier now only being quite disturbing in nature. The blood pouring from his wounds didn’t seem to bother him at all, only spurring him forwards as she leaked a river of lovely and vibrant crimson.
The sharp scent of something metallic was filling the air, making him woozy as he swayed from the scent. Whether it was disgust or perhaps the most shameful of ecstasy, he didn’t know, and was much too frightened to find out. He had to get away before the killer could come for him, before he realized the crime had been seen. Jackal could already hear steady footsteps coming from behind him, he could already imagine the calm and almost sweet expression in those dark eyes and refined face.
Urging forward, he ran as fast as he could in his dizzied state, he begged himself not to fall even as the hallway seemed to extend and extend endlessly. The paintings of the scene flashed by him, the man looking up to observe Jackal in an almost shock, standing up and walking closer and closer to the foreground of the painting. Jackal tried to run faster, screaming in his wild panic with tears streaking down his face in fear. Those dark eyes….those deep pools of shadows and empty hollow words of peace.
Such things could not exist in a world where gruesome things could happen. What light could there possibly be if everyone was hurting? What light was there when he had seen the woman die? What light could there be in the dizzying pleasure he derived from seeing her blood flow from slices and cuts like a dazzling rive on a Sunday morning? There was only black. A marvelous, breath-taking dark in which the light could not possibly hope to shine.
His run switched from fear and panic to just a way of taking out energy, his eyes turning to look at the paintings, now portraits of the man from earlier. Yes, those footsteps were not chasing him, but leading him to something freeing. To a place where he could break the chains of morality and simply do what all people where meant to do. Destroy. With great leaps and bounds he bolted down this hallway with a cackling roar of laughter that shook the walls with its shrill tone, now seeking to use the hall as a guide rather than an escape.
“Round and round the wheel goes, where it stops nobody knows!”
The man in the portrait sang out in a low tone, and Jackal couldn’t help but sing his agreement as his vision began to fade to nothing but that silent beauty called darkness.
His eyes opened to a bright light, ears ringing and body panting for breath that he desperately needed. His lungs ached as the sweet kiss of oxygen met them, causing him to collapse to his weak and shaking knees in relief. What had happened? All he recalled was laughter and red, lots of red.
He blinked his eyes quickly to rid the fog covering them, he had a growing sense of dread in his stomach as he realized what had taken place. Yes, another blackout this week. That makes 3. He looked around the destruction he had wreaked, frowning as he realized it was his cabin. There were broken game boards on the floor, scattered solitaire cards, ripped bed sheets and a broken and smashed acoustic guitar beyond repair. He had even managed to carve long scratches into the wooden walls, traces of blood smeared into them to show that he had managed to damage his hands yet again. Saddened grey and green eyes looked to skeletal hands with a cold and familiar frown, seeing the ripped skin and dried blood that had dripped down onto his palms, almost covering his hands entirely. There was a brief moment of breathlessness, pulling a wheezing gasp from him as he swayed in place.
One second later and Leila was sighing as she stared at the destruction around her, tight frown on her face as she pieced together what had happened. “Damn it Angelo, you’re a jerk….” With that, she set about to try to clear things up, moving bits and pieces of destroyed furniture to the sides of the room with her feet, taking care to not use her damaged and aching fingers. This would be the second time this week, and it was only Wednesday. She was beginning to get a little more irritable, it showed in the way she didn’t even bother to try and part her hair this time.
‘Leila, take a rest. I can do this one.’
A faint smile brushed across her lips as she recognized the voice of Deathman, almost chuckling at his thick accent despite her exhaustion. It would be nice to rest, even for a little bit, but this was her job. Besides, Angelo would only pick on her for her exhaustion, and she didn’t want Jackal to go through any more than he just did. “No, Deathman, I can do this. Besides, I need to get stronger, I can’t keep on relying on Knick and you to help fight the other two dunces off.” She headed for the door, doing her best to open it with both palms rather than her fingers to avoid further injury, and stepped out into the nice spring day outside.
‘Just be careful, don’t push yourself.’
Deathman gave a small sigh to show his concern, though let the matter be as Leila walked them through the camp and towards the infirmary. A few campers looked down at her hands, wincing with a few grimaces and judgemental looks, others however seemed to roll their eyes in a “Not this again manner.” Before returning to their activity. She could feel Jackal’s discomfort and nervousness from the stares, though she did her best to encourage him to just hold out a little bit longer until they were at the infirmary.
She found herself wishing that this would be the last time she’d have to take him here, yet selfishly she wished the trips wouldn’t end.
Notes: He likes sitting in odd places and in odd positions. Like a cat, he prefers high places or places he can hide under, like tables or countertops.
He has a slight case of Synthesia, associating sound with smell and color with touch. He likes blue the best, it feels like tree bark to him.
Last edited by Lila-Red-King.Of.Ace. on 5/8/2015, 10:05 pm; edited 1 time in total
