Jamalamin’s Background

   Posted by: Blackbird   in Wardlands

Caution may contain some character spoilers, feel free to read it but try to avoid metagaming.

Jamlamin is average looking in most ways. He looks like an average man, except that his face has no stubble and his blue eyes seem older than his more youthful skin tone. It’s the way he looks through/into people and is always staring into the distance.
He has darker blond hair, carelessly hacked at about shoulder-length. If anyone looks closely, there are a few gray hairs in the bunch – another indication of age beyond youthful appearance. Otherwise, he keeps himself decently groomed.
He wears a gray-brown cloak/cape over normal traveling clothes (or some worn-looking hide armor). His boots are tall and also look well-worn. Everything about him seems a bit worn and traveled. His possessions seem simple and are uninteresting.
Jamlamin grew up on a farm as the oldest of four children. He discovered his half-elven identity as a teen when his mother died and on her deathbed told him of the tryst between herself and an elven lord in her early youth. His human father’s profound love for her transcending her youthful misdeeds, they were wed as soon as it became clear that she bore a child. He finally understood why he seemed so different from the rest, and why his wanderlust was so intense. With his mother’s admission and his father’s blessing, Jamlamin left home to wander the wilds.
He began his wandering by working with merchants. He followed harvests and worked as a ranch hand. He eventually joined with some rangers who worked as forresters and woodsmen where the small plains ranches met the western forrests. These rangers recognized and accepted his half-blood origins, and taught him much about elves and the forests, about animals and weather and survival. They found that he was particularly adept at making bows and fine arrows.
On one adventure, the companions had to flee from a large orc raiding party. They were separated up in dense scrub-oak with little hope of finding each other before nightfall. The situation was desperate, for they knew that they might not survive the night if they remained split apart. Jamlamin slashed at the foliage as they fled. With subtlety and speed he painted a message in the bushes as clear to the other rangers as any fresh tree blaze, yet unnoticeable by less intelligent or skilled. They were able to not only regroup, but regroup in a fortified position that Jamlamin intuitively discovered. They easily won the night and Jamlamin was forever called “Bushblazer” by his friends and mentors.
The humans grew old quickly in the unforgiving world, while Jamlamin stayed relatively young. As his friends aged, Jamlamin yearned for travel again, no longer content with life at the forrest edge. He has moved on in search of adventure and companionship, with a somewhat apprehensive hope of someday meeting the elves and perhaps even his elven father.
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