Post by ghost4life on Dec 1, 2015 5:38:11 GMT
Jach was back. Though he could not remember his time away, he knew one thing: it had been restful. Unlike the time since he was brought back.. all that was here for him now was hunger, fear, pain, and fighting. Always the fighting.
Perhaps the most painful thing on his return though was the loss of his books. He had recently come into posession of a spellbook that had helped bridge the gaps in some of his own theories, paving the way to greater understanding.. with the books gone however, he would have to go off what he could remember (which was a significant amount)
Those that had come into contact with Jack since the day he was brought back would note a rather shocking change in his demeanor. Thinner of face and walking with the assistance of a staff or cane, he would nevertheless appear more sure of himself. As though his ordeals had been a furnace, burning away the dross of what childhood he had left in him. The harder sterner and yet almost tired looking young man would still offer a smile to those who came to him in friendship, and advice to those seking his magical expertise.
Those seeking him out would almost assuredly find him seated near the fires in the kitchen, soaking in the life giving warmth, and quickly filling the pages of his newest journal. His mind ever on the defensive spells and wards he'd been tasked with repairing. Along with these ward theories, he devoted some of his time recovering the lost spells and item enchantment recipes he had developed over the many years of tutelage in his long lost home...
Perhaps the most painful thing on his return though was the loss of his books. He had recently come into posession of a spellbook that had helped bridge the gaps in some of his own theories, paving the way to greater understanding.. with the books gone however, he would have to go off what he could remember (which was a significant amount)
Those that had come into contact with Jack since the day he was brought back would note a rather shocking change in his demeanor. Thinner of face and walking with the assistance of a staff or cane, he would nevertheless appear more sure of himself. As though his ordeals had been a furnace, burning away the dross of what childhood he had left in him. The harder sterner and yet almost tired looking young man would still offer a smile to those who came to him in friendship, and advice to those seking his magical expertise.
Those seeking him out would almost assuredly find him seated near the fires in the kitchen, soaking in the life giving warmth, and quickly filling the pages of his newest journal. His mind ever on the defensive spells and wards he'd been tasked with repairing. Along with these ward theories, he devoted some of his time recovering the lost spells and item enchantment recipes he had developed over the many years of tutelage in his long lost home...