Here's an updated/slightly edited version of Jax's CS. I _think_ it's done, now! (Also, a bunch of the old code doesn't work anymore, so sorry for the horrible formatting!)
Jax stands at an average height of 5’10”, with olive skin and a relatively smooth complexion. The man’s build is athletic, similar to that of a runner’s: with narrow shoulders and a developed (although wiry) musculature. There’s not a pinch of unnecessary fat upon his form, and it’s clear from his appearance that he makes an effort to keep himself in peak physical condition.
His eyes are blue and bright with intelligence (with a slightly oriental look to them), and his shoulder length hair of a similar colour to that of a raven’s feathers is almost always slicked back with the use of a colourless, odourless, custom-made wax - reaching to the nape of his neck when styled in this way.
Jackson usually dresses in flexible or free-flowing trousers of some kind (such as riding breeches or cotton leggings), and will always have a pair of hardy work boots covering his feet. His shirts change daily, but are usually long-sleeved. He will also often wear a clearly worn (but well made) long-sleeved leather jacket over the top of whatever shirt he’s wearing, and it’s not uncommon to see a coloured handkerchief of some kind tied round his neck (doubling as a mask, should he need one).
**Name:** Jackson “Jax” Harrowstone
**Age:** 32
**Guild Band:** The Nimble Hands
**Archetype:** Reckless Gambler/Lucky Bastard
**Backstory:** Jackson Harrowstone was born a bastard - the product of a travelling Kusagi Merchant’s casual encounter with his mother; an almost coinless seventeen year old woman who made what little she could for herself in one of the Western City-State’s many backalley brothels.
His mother’s coworkers had advised that she drink a large amount of tansy tea as soon as she had realised that she was pregnant, but she ignored them - allowing the baby that grew inside her a chance at life that was rarely given to those conceived in similar circumstances. This was the first in a streak of good luck that would follow Jackson in throughout his life.
Jax’s childhood was nowhere near as easy or carefree as most, and anyone of a more privileged station who heard of the circumstances of his early years would proclaim, appalled, that he had been robbed of it. This, however, was not the case: although his childhood was not conventional, or spent wrapped up in cotton wool, it was not _stolen_.
He never knew his father, but his mother clearly loved him - and as the only child within the four walls of the brothel where his mother lived and worked, he was lavished with a neverending stream of affection and attention from the day he was born. Despite this, he still had to earn his keep (or so said the shady ‘merchant’ who owned the unlicensed back alley whorehouse) - and, from almost the very day he could properly walk (and barely talk), Jackson Harrowstone was put to work about the gritty establishment where his mother was employed. At first, he cleaned - but, by the time he was three and a half, Jax had been taught how to sneak about and thieve, and was stealing from the clients of the establishment while they fucked one of his numerous ‘aunts’.
He was barely ever caught, (as the men who were being robbed were often too preoccupied with other, more carnal pursuits), but even when he was no [i]real[/i] harm ever came to him. The matron of the brothel would apologise, with a fabricated smile, giving the toddler a cuff to the back of the head for “being so daring”: then, when the client had left, berated Jax for being caught, and ordered him to practice.
The rest of Jackson’s childhood was spent in this way - cleaning and stealing, and lavishing in the affections of his extended, non-blood related family. It was not until he was older (about eleven or twelve) and began venturing out into the wider world beyond the only four walls that he had ever known that he realised that he was.. different.
His skin colour was different to the majority of those he saw in the streets, as were his eyes - and he received odd looks from those he did not know who walked past him while he was out on errands, and the words “bastard” and “outcast” were muttered frequently in his direction; words which cut him like a knife once he understood what they meant, but that he would readily embrace in his adulthood.
By the time he was fourteen, Jax was a little bit too big to continue earning his keep by pickpocketing his mother’s and aunts’ clients: he could no longer sneak around in such a small space without being detected on a regular basis. Instead, the men who owned the brothel (whom Jax never learned the names of, and had only seen a few times in his life) decided that he would help repay his and his mothers’ debt through conning and outright robbery - or, so he was told, before being taken from his mother’s arms by a pair of mean-looking thugs, and dragged, thrashing, through the doors of the dirty brothel which had been the only home he had ever known.
He was given a tiny room in a dirty inn, and informed that he would be allowed to see his mother once a month _if_ and _only_ if he made enough money to satisfy his employers. Then, the door was slammed and he was left alone until morning. When his door next opened, it revealed a grizzled middle-aged man with calloused fingers and kind, smiling eyes. He shut the door behind him, and sat down on the end of Jax’s tiny bed - pulling a deck of cards out of his top pocket.
And so began Jackson’s education in card magic, gambling, and con artistry. He spent the next few years of his life practicing and performing the tricks and routines he was taught, conning innocent people out of their hard-earned coin with the skill of a seasoned swindler: and feeling no remorse for doing so because of the slurs that had been muttered in his direction from the very day he had first stepped foot outside his mother’s brothel. He earned his employers a great deal of money, and was happy to part with the majority of it so long as he could continue to see his mother.
Once his mother died (when Jackson was seventeen), after a few more months of continuing to work and also dealing with his grief, he realised that he no longer _wanted_ to work for somebody else’s gain.
So, one day in the middle of his seventeenth year, he arrived on the doorstep of the Adventurers’ Guild Headquarters in his City-State, and, once he was let inside, proceeded to con the seasoned mercs and sellswords out of their hard-earned coin. Then, grinning, he pulled out a dagger and slammed it down in the middle of the table - proposing his intention to join them. He was accepted into the Guild, and never looked back to the gritty side street which had been all he had known for most of his life.
After spending a few years learning the ways of the Adventurers’ Guild and working alongside its members, Jackson decided that he wanted to travel. He knew there was more to the world than the City-State where he had spent his youth - his own father had been a Kusagi! As soon as he had enough money saved up to fund his travels, Jax departed - saying farewell to the friends he had made over the last few years, and setting off to make new ones.
He moved around a lot between the City-States over the next few years, never staying in one place for too long - doing the odd job (contracted through the Guild Headquarters of wherever he happened to be) to top up his savings whenever he needed to.
Jax had been on the road for almost three years when he arrived in Meduzart; the birthplace and historical home of the Adventurers’ Guild. He had only intended to stay for a weeks - at most a month or two - but the weeks blurred into countless months, and the months into years. Soon enough, he forgot that he had only intended to visit - especially whenever he formed his own Band with a few other Guild members, which became known as The Nimble Hands; a group of street performers, pickpockets, thieves and mercenaries who abide by a self-devised code of ethics.
He has stayed in Meduzart ever since, his influence within the Adventurers’ Guild growing with every passing year - especially with his Band becoming larger with every passing year.
**Skills and Abilities**
**Speed/Stealth/Flexibility -** Jackson spent much of his childhood sneaking about his mother’s brothel and moving through small spaces, and did so with relative speed and ease. He also had to do a fair bit of running throughout his teenage years, when he conned the wrong person - and became adept at quickly climbing onto rooftops in order to escape pursuit. He can still move with stealth when necessary, and outrun most people. He’s also quite skilled in the art of rooftop climbing.
**Sleight of Hand -** As he’s been using card tricks and other games to con people out of their hard-earned coin for many years, Jackson is incredibly good with his hands. This also doesn’t just apply to the speed with which he can shuffle a deck of cards. He can throw knives with blurring speed and a fair degree of accuracy, and is able to hold his own in a fistfight.
**Intelligence -** Jackson’s upbringing has shaped him into quite a shrewd man, although he may appear impulsive. He (usually) thinks things through before he does them, and can quite often be a source of original ideas.
**Charisma -** Jax has a way with people, and whether it be through flashing a smile or dropping a witty pick-up line, he’s usually able to chat his way out of many a sticky situation.
**Equipment**
**Throwing Knives -** Jax carries a number of well-balanced throwing knives of a high level of craftsmanship upon his person at all times, which can usually be seen hanging from hooks on his sturdy leather belt.
**Shortsword Revolver Blade -** Perhaps Jax’s most prized possession is a custom-made revolver blade, with a significantly shorter blade than most - to comply with his more close-range, quick-moving fighting style. The weapon’s ability to fire bullets is extremely helpful, and has saved Jackson’s life on more than a few occasions - by helping to allow him to get some distance between himself and large numbers of unexpected enemy reinforcements. It, also, hangs from his belt - although it rests within a sheath made from hardened leather.