Jagger Jaol
"Eclipsed Perch"

Neocornix of the Corax
Badb of the Five Reeds Ring

Description


Homid: ~Jagger Jaol seems like a fairly normal guy. He’s of average height and weight – maybe a little lanky, a little swanky. Jagger likes to keep his blond hair a wild mess, the better to frame his bright brown eyes and draw from his dented nose. Perhaps his nose was shattered a long time ago and never healed quite right. Jagger struts with confidence – vanity one might even call it. He’s not bad-looking despite the nose, in fact. The fella wears casual attire: jeans, a leather jacket, sunglasses, and t-shirts with amusing and/or political jokes stamped across the center. With semi-laced combat boots tromping forward, Jagger comes off as a Green Day-styled “punk lite” rebel that refuses to grow up.~

OOC: Appearance 2; Glory 2, Honor 0, Wisdom 6

Crinos: ~Arms stretch wide and sprawl out suddenly into big, flapping wings that end in small, claw-like fingers. His head becomes beaked with a cruelly curved yellow mouth. Shrewd, black, and beady bird eyes glare at his enemies. His clothing has all vanished and its place, a sheath of oily-black feather. The down is broken only on the scalp with a blond streak. His legs shift into thin, hardened limbs ending in deadly, sharp talons. The tips of his wing-claws likewise seem silvered. Wings beating, beak crowing, wormy tongue hissing: this is one ticked-off big ol' birdie-boy.~

OOC: Appearance 0; Reduced Delirium; Glory 2, Honor 0, Wisdom 6

Corvid: ~This is a black bird as big a small dog. But he seems meaner than a Chihuahua on crack. Crass, angry calls emit from his gray-yellow beak and those all-seeing beady eyes bent on detecting prey and predators.~

OOC: Appearance 2; Glory 2, Honor 0, Wisdom 6


"Big boys don't cry!"

History


Feathered Nest

Jagger Jaol was born in 1983 and raised in Austin, Texas. His father Bruce and mother Catherine were devoted to the raising of Corax wereravens. Jagger’s older brother, Alan, also benefited from the Jaols’ supernatural purpose. For in this duty, the Jaols taught their children from the very beginning all about the denizens of the secret world. Their sensibility was thereby tested when they attended school. Alan also proved the more prudent of the brothers.

Jagger never did let the secrets slip to his classmates (not that any of them would have believed it anyway). Instead, it went to his head and he got in other kids’ faces. Even from this early age, Jagger was a scrapper. He didn’t always win his schoolyard brawls. But that never slowed him down.

Fortunately, Bruce was not just Corax Kinfolk. He was full-on Corax, aging and preparing to settle down. With his Kinfolk wife, they were devoted to the raising of two wereraven children. An experienced traveler of the Shadow, Bruce sacrificed the Gnosis and watched closely over the spirit-eggs while Catherine provided for the family as a radiologist.

Go For the Eyes!

Both Alan and Jagger were selected for and their spirits were successfully tethered with the Umbral eggs. As they grew older, the moment for their First Changes would soon come. Alan’s came sooner and just as expected. Jagger’s wings erupted in a not so sensible fashion. He was 12 and got himself surrounded by bullies who were tired of him fighting. Five bigger (or fatter) kids encircled the nascent Corax. The stress pushed him over the edge and he shifted…but not into Corvid to fly away. Next thing the other kids knew, a furious, cawing, raking, pecking wereraven was in their faces. The Delirium was enough to erase their memories of the event (but not the multiple injuries; one kid was nearly disemboweled and spent a year in recovery).

The “troubled youth” made his way home and his father immediately took him in. Alan already finished his instruction under the guidance of his father. Now it was Jagger’s turn. Aware of what he was (if still rather uneasy and confused), Jagger at first submitted to his father’s authority and education (including a normal at-home private tuition to complete grade school). Granted, much of that education was limited to “go find out if you want to know so bad”. As much investment as Bruce lay in the boys, he kept a close eye on Jagger’s maturation. But the headstrong chick demanded more combat training. He wanted to be a war hawk.

Except he wasn’t a hawk, scolded his father. He was a raven, and his job was to scout, not fight. Sure, scouts sometimes have to fight just to escape. And his father showed him that much. That didn’t satisfy Jagger. He began to train himself any way he could. He spent hours at the local boxing gym, mainly getting his butt kicked.

SR-71

A prolonged mentorship under his father (as Alan received) would end at age 17. Finally, Jagger was pronounced ready and suitable to fly on his own. With an ironic sense of humor, his father presented the young wereraven with a pair of silver claws. Still, despite their differences, he loved his father and bid him a fond farewell. But also despite his father’s education, Jagger took wing to carve a new and somewhat distorted path for himself.

Oh, to be sure, Jagger did his job. He flew north from Texas, peeking in on any industrial sites in particular for hints of pollution. Jagger learned the basic ins and outs of Garou whereabouts and fluttered in, uninvited, to report sightings of the Wyrm. For several years, he performed that duty and did it well. In fact, he didn’t just pass on the location. He would accompany the werewolves into battle, reporting on enemy positions. At any opportunity he found, he’d dive into battle and gut him a security guard or fomori or two. It was worth the risk, and there was nothing exactly against opportunistically taking out an obvious enemy or two.

Afterwards, Jagger would soar into local perches and brag about all the industrial Wyrm centers he helped bring crashing down. Throughout the Midwest, he became a staple of Corax blabbermouthing on the enemies of Gaia. A simple test was accorded at a Parliament in Austin (his father attended) that saw him rise to Neocornix. While he was usually ignored by (or chased off from) the one or two Wendigo Septs he’d drop in on, the Fianna-run caerns were more open. Usually.

Nose Job

An obnoxious Fianna that bought into the redneck racism of so-called Garou superiority called him out one day. Jagger willfully went Crinos, armed his silver claws, and slashed the werewolf’s cheek open. The claws were then transmuted back. But the werewolf was furious and leapt on the scrambling Corax. Jagger tried to flee but the Crinos Garou slashed and gashed at his feathery form. He managed to get his talons up between and boot the Galliard off. The werewolf seized a big rock and flung it at Jagger’s head as he leapt up to his feet to fly off. Jagger turned just as the rock struck, and it smashed his face in. Still conscious, he managed to shapeshift and flap away as the werewolf pounced, catching nothing but air. Beak a bloody mess, he flapped up and away.

The injury was severe enough that his beak and nose never set quite right when they regenerated. Far worse, as Jagger painfully flapped away, dizziness and nausea – better known as vertigo – set in. As soon as he was far enough away, he landed and puked up blood and lunch. From then on, any time he tried to fly, he felt nauseatingly ill.

But that only renewed Jagger’s original purpose: to become a war raven. For what he never told his father was the memories of ancient Corax in his head: members of the Morrigan. From them, he made his goal to join the order. There was just one problem: he was a man. He made fusses at the Gathers but was laughed right off his perch. Just for kicks, his elders didn’t hesitate to tell him where to find the Morrigan’s Daughters.

Awkward

Naturally, Jagger went snooping for them just as his elders suggested. In Mobile, he was sniffed out while spying on one of their little moots at a bar. Due to his unwillingness to simply fly away, they snagged him by his tail feathers, dragged him inside, and beat the snot out of him. Five girls kicked the crap out of Jagger and tossed him to the curb. Shameful. Embarrassing. The details of this little business would be left out the Gather reports, even if his neurologist would have something to say about it.

Disheartened, Jagger traveled back west, pausing in New Orleans. Holy hell, was there a lot of trouble down here, he discovered. The Corax once more began to spy for the urban and rural Garou alike. He’d prove to his kin that he was more than worthy of the Morrigan. Jagger could be nuts, but his even odder brother Alan could yet turn out to be Jagger’s saving grace. They had not seen each other for years, but Alan knew some secrets few people anywhere knew…

Past Life


Jagger has a number of scattered ancestors that he can tap, usually when hanging from a perch in Corvid and daydreaming. One past life in particular he can call upon much more readily: her deed name was Day-Lit-Scouring, and she joined the Morrigu. When he seeks her aid, she’s often a dominant voice in his head. Furthermore, Jagger keeps Day-Lit to himself, lest the connection expose his ambitions to somehow join the Morrigu despite his gender.

Fetishes


Silver Claws
Level: 1
Gnosis: 5
Origin: This set of Silver Claws was given to Jagger as something of a white elephant gift after his successful Rite of Passage.
Description: These appear to be stainless steel “ninja claws” that fit over the fingers like brass knuckles.
Effects: 1) Once activated, function as silver claws for the Crinos form.
Activation: 1) He must cut his palm and bleed a drop or two of blood onto the weapon to transmute them from steel to silver.

Battle Scars


Class: Sensory
Description: Mashed-up nose
Location: Nose
Origin: A stupid brawl with a Fianna resulted in the angry werewolf smashing Jagger’s face in with a big fucking rock.
Effects: All olfactory-based Perception rolls are made at +1 difficulty in all forms.

Significant Other


In early autumn of 2007, Jagger butted beaks with a fellow bird-brained wannabe Morrigan named Mellisa Rothenberg. They got in each other’s faces and were soon scrapping. They beat the snot out of each other, and then rolled in the hay. He began to hang around with Mellisa in her pub frequently, and playful scraps and sex-flings became a “regular Saturday night thing”.

Mellisa

Weakness

Reverse Sexism


Quite simply, Jagger's obsession with the Morrigan is a severe distraction from his true purpose and duties as Corax. Combined with his neurotic semi-psychosomatic fear of flying, he's turning into quite a useless asshole. He needs to get over himself already.

Likelihood of Corruption


Average.

Jagger isn't stupid nor prone to ever joining the "dark side", but he can be quite rash.

Links

Character Stats

Character Profiles

Swamp Land Protectorates

E-mail me!

Main Character Hub

Back to Game Hub