Name: Jelal Waveskimmer
Age: 33
Gender: Male
Species: Otter
Appearance: Jelal is a fine example of river otter physique. That is, not quite as burly as his sea otter counterparts, but certainly not a beast you’d want to tangle with in a dark alley. Lithe, tough muscles are covered by a plain, but well-kept coat of dark brown fur the color of fertile soil that wraps around his body, gradually fading to a light creamy shade as it approaches his underbelly and neck. He does not have any distinctive dye patterns or family heirlooms or the like, mostly because he’s certain he’d forget they were even there should he try to wear them. His grass green eyes are jovial and accommodating. Having lived the rough life of a traveler, his body bears one or two interesting scars from the bumps, scraps, scrapes, and fiascos he’s found himself in, but they were nothing life-threatening then or now.
Personality: Jelal is a gregarious, amicable creature who, like any respectable otter, enjoys outdoor activities, acrobatics, and the occasional bashing of vermin skulls. Always one to sit down with shipmates and have a drink and a laugh, Jelal is a good travel companion around the campfire, usually the first to strike up a song or shanty, or when the situation calls for it, pay respects to the dead. As an empathic beast, he doesn’t like conflict between friends; having seen too many small incidents cost lives or dignity, he is a composed individual under stress, not given to panic or hysterics. In arguments, he’s usually caught in the middle or out on the sidelines. Talkative at almost all hours of the day, he can sometimes overreach himself and need some prodding to end a conversation or hop to a given order, and has a tendency to barge in on things. His extroversion means he is a trailblazer in the wilds, and a real volunteer in everything else, without regards to whether or not he’s actually qualified for the job! For all that, he is a faithful, brave, and capable creature, always one to press others onward and give them encouragement… whether they like it or not.
History: Jelal’s cheerful, go-getter personality is not actually how he always was. Born along the River Moss to a tight-knit, nomadic otter holt, his trailblazing was something he had been born with, minus his empathy and charm. As the middle child of four, he was oftentimes overlooked in favor of his competitive older brothers, always jockeying for position or attention, and his dainty younger sister, the truly cheerful one of the family. As a result of this Jelal was often on his own, befriending strange hermits in the woods and clambering up and down pathways nobeast had used in seasons, or sometimes never before. His desire to find his own path was taken to mean a lack of personal drive by most of his family, particularly his father. Though the two shared a good relationship, it was better described as “respectful” than truly affectionate. And so, Jelal’s distance grew, both physically and emotionally. As his brothers became competitive, aggressive warriors for the holt, and his sister became a river beauty, Jelal became increasingly passed over, and distant. He never became spiteful of his siblings’ greater ability. But he did grow quieter and out of the way. His father expressed concern, yes, but it was rougher than intended, and Jelal eventually decided that he’d be better off elsewhere. At fifteen, he was off and away after an altercation with his father that had been harsher than either intended. Mistaking concern for lack of understanding and reprimands for pointless anger, he ran. He was determined to make it on his own. He didn’t need anybeast, and nobeast needed him.
That changed several seasons later. Life on the road was much harsher than expected. He had, in fact, failed miserably at “coming into his own,” but many valuable lessons were learned, lessons he would employ later on.
When he was twenty-two, he returned home to find that home had vanished. All that was left was a single, sputtering fire, tended to by a single, old otter from Jelal’s holt. It was from him he learned the sad story. Four seasons before Jelal’s return, sea raiders traveling down the river had attacked in the dead of night. It was not an unexpected attack, but it had come swiftly, too swiftly to save most of them. With several of their number including their leader slain, their homes now burned out wrecks, and their food gone with winter approaching, the holt had dispersed, each going their own way to find their fortunes. His own family was alive, but that was all he knew of them. He had no idea where they had gone or where they were now. Jelal had gotten his wish to be on his own in the worst way possible.
And so, Jelal learned a harsh lesson in respecting and appreciating the company of others. His stubbornness and reclusive tendencies were gone, eroded by time and this tragedy. He no longer wanted to be alone. It took some time, but he gradually became the beast he is today. Wanting to belong, to have friends and family again, to never let the ones he cares about be disappointed, and to never let them forget that he does care, and never meant a word of what he said before he left. But with no true home to speak of, there was nothing left in his life but to roam again, and seek out some sign, some word of his holt. He only found three of them, one living in a small village near the holt’s original site, and the other a happily married couple in Redwall. He has had no word on the others since; their holt was small in the first place, and had traveled far. Jelal, despondent, but hiding it behind his newly found happy face, turned his search northward.
More by chance than anything else, he found himself at the gates of Black Arch. Hopefully, a land where he could re-establish himself, where he could find a new family. Where nobeast would leave him behind.
Skills and weaponry: Jelal is well-trained in the arts of using swords, spears, and can throw an axe or javelin with skill. Having lived on his own for most of his life, he is adept at finding his own way around the woods, and can be an ad hoc tracker, in a pinch. Put him in a shieldwall and he’ll do just fine. Given that he’s been trying to pinpoint and track down the remnants of his holt, he is adept at surveying and mapmaking, and can read and write adequately, as in his youth he spent much of his search for his holt sending out desperate and rather foolish letters all over the place. He is a river otter and doesn’t know the ways of the sea very well, but the handling of boats and reading the water was never far from him or his skill set.
He is also a fine cook.
