Jack Nolan, the Two's for Good Measure, but Three'll Cost you Extra Luirge
"Jack Nolan, jack of all trades, here to help. For a fee, of course."
- Jack
- Jack
Underlined #4e4017
In proper Luirge fashion, Jack considers himself many things from a thief, a mercenary, a doctor, a detective, a tax dodger, a small business owner – and he's not particularly good at any of them. Not that this ever seems to get him down. Unlike some insecure Lords, he revels in knowing a bit of everything. He's even got his own catch phrase, a moniker of the rank: Jack Nolan, Jack of all trades, at your service. He's a personable sort, mostly falling in line as a noire detective type who helps those he probably should be scrutinizing a bit more closely. But he'll pick up any odd job so long as there's a trade of goods involved, as he's never one to apply his mediocre service to just any body for just any price. Naw, he's been in Isnit long enough he could give a Chavo a run for his monies.
Overall, despite his lot in life without a pack and without much supernatural skill, Jack tries to impart some good on the world. He's the best mate you need for a stag party, and the one you want when things go south with the neighbors. He'll support Ian in his endeavors to fit in, all while encouraging him to stand out. He's a walking menagerie of opinions and life experiences, his age unknown just like the depth of his wisdom. Who knows when Jack will just pop up with a random fact about the weyrd, just the tidbit of information you needed to solve your current dilemma. He's like a helpful guide popping up when the programming thinks you've spent too long in a certain level, except that guide then turns around a demands some of your hard earned gold for its efforts. Still, there's something odd about the pup, a touch of madness that's more fitting in his Sanas rank mates than in a down-and-out Lord. About the only good talent Jack has is an affinity for gardening, otherwise unexplained other than I picked it up from my gran, and it's left at that. Under his green dewclaw, plants will flourish and bounce back from the brink of death, seemingly with little to no effort on the barghest's behest.
Jack is large. Something he says he picks up from his father, who was most definitely also a Luirge. Right? Who…rightly knows with some of his tossed out comments. For all his imposing height and weight, however, Jack is kind of a shitty fighter. Sure, he can zealously rough and tumble with the best of them, but that doesn't mean he's any good at it. He's not even a very good tracker, most of his detecting 'wins' made through the connections he's established throughout town. But there's no accounting for his strange luck. At first glance, he might even be mistaken for a Sanas, a pale figure moving along the streets of Isnit. But upon closer inspection, he has the typical brindle pattern of slate grey across his back, focused mostly on his flanks while his tail dips into almost pure black. It also looks like he has 9 o'clock shadow over his boxy muzzle, as speckles fleck over his face and down his neck. His eyes are a bright teal, and the texture of his coat is long and wiry, often tangling and needing to be cleaned.
In proper Luirge fashion, Jack considers himself many things from a thief, a mercenary, a doctor, a detective, a tax dodger, a small business owner – and he's not particularly good at any of them. Not that this ever seems to get him down. Unlike some insecure Lords, he revels in knowing a bit of everything. He's even got his own catch phrase, a moniker of the rank: Jack Nolan, Jack of all trades, at your service. He's a personable sort, mostly falling in line as a noire detective type who helps those he probably should be scrutinizing a bit more closely. But he'll pick up any odd job so long as there's a trade of goods involved, as he's never one to apply his mediocre service to just any body for just any price. Naw, he's been in Isnit long enough he could give a Chavo a run for his monies.
Overall, despite his lot in life without a pack and without much supernatural skill, Jack tries to impart some good on the world. He's the best mate you need for a stag party, and the one you want when things go south with the neighbors. He'll support Ian in his endeavors to fit in, all while encouraging him to stand out. He's a walking menagerie of opinions and life experiences, his age unknown just like the depth of his wisdom. Who knows when Jack will just pop up with a random fact about the weyrd, just the tidbit of information you needed to solve your current dilemma. He's like a helpful guide popping up when the programming thinks you've spent too long in a certain level, except that guide then turns around a demands some of your hard earned gold for its efforts. Still, there's something odd about the pup, a touch of madness that's more fitting in his Sanas rank mates than in a down-and-out Lord. About the only good talent Jack has is an affinity for gardening, otherwise unexplained other than I picked it up from my gran, and it's left at that. Under his green dewclaw, plants will flourish and bounce back from the brink of death, seemingly with little to no effort on the barghest's behest.
Jack is large. Something he says he picks up from his father, who was most definitely also a Luirge. Right? Who…rightly knows with some of his tossed out comments. For all his imposing height and weight, however, Jack is kind of a shitty fighter. Sure, he can zealously rough and tumble with the best of them, but that doesn't mean he's any good at it. He's not even a very good tracker, most of his detecting 'wins' made through the connections he's established throughout town. But there's no accounting for his strange luck. At first glance, he might even be mistaken for a Sanas, a pale figure moving along the streets of Isnit. But upon closer inspection, he has the typical brindle pattern of slate grey across his back, focused mostly on his flanks while his tail dips into almost pure black. It also looks like he has 9 o'clock shadow over his boxy muzzle, as speckles fleck over his face and down his neck. His eyes are a bright teal, and the texture of his coat is long and wiry, often tangling and needing to be cleaned.