STUART, Jeb ]]

[scapula.]

Name:

James Tala Stuart (Called "Jeb" by all, "Smithy" by most)

Age:

26 years old

Gender:

Male

Heritage:

German x Lakota

Job Position:

Town Blacksmith

Physical Description:

Standing at a height of 6'3" with a weight of 175 pounds, Jeb isn't someone who is easily pushed around. He is not meticulous about his appearance and allows two or three days of stubble to grow on his face before shearing it off. His light brown hair is not long, nor is it short, but is somewhere in between. Overall, one might classify him as scruffy, something that isn't well-accepted in these times but is excused since he is a blacksmith.

Jeb's bright hazel eyes normally have a glimmer of happiness to them. He enjoys being around and taking care of horses; there's no job that he'd rather have. His eyes hardly reveal the emotion of sadness since he tends to keep everything bottled up inside. It's something he's learned along the path in life.

Underneath his eyes is a slightly crooked nose (it became that way after several harsh kicks to the face and a broken beer bottle). Its off-kilter skew, paired with his twisted half-smile, sometimes succeeds in bringing the ladies to him. His teeth, almost perfect in shape and color, are all aligned with a slight tilt here and there. It's surprising, given his job title, that he has any teeth at all... much less all of them.

His chest is quite broad, almost to the point of making him seem disproportional, and his arm muscles are toned from his career choice. Unlike most men of his age, Jeb has little chest or back hair. He is not at all afraid to remove his shirt while working but will hastily put it back on if a lady happens to come his way, thinking it offensive to a lady to see a man in such a fashion. The Lakota in him brings out a deep tan in his skin during the warm months, completely overriding the pale complexion of his German roots. His waist, having to hold up his immense torso, is thick but not fat, and his calves and feet are proportionate to a man of his size and stature.

With the good and the bad comes the ugly. From years of dealing with unbroken or simply misbehaved horses, Jeb's body is a canvas of scars. His nose is crooked from kicks to the face (the last horse nearly killing him in the process), and a large scar runs down the left side of his upper lip, trailing onto his lower lip (from a broken bottle in a bar fight). On his right forearm and bicep, there are two white imprints from vicious horse bites, while his right leg sports a nasty white spot on the shin from a break as a child. Across his back is a long white line, reaching from one shoulderblade to his spine. The cause is unknown.

Personality:

Typically, Jeb is a laid-back, easy-going guy. Reputable for his kindness, he is known to have shod horses for less than the standard amount and even to lend money to the poor (even though he's not rich himself). He is a respectable figure, although he hasn't yet hit his thirtieth birthday. To children and women, he is the most gentile and jocular. Despite his scruffy look, he is a charmer and wishes to please. When not in school, children are invited to spend time watching him do his job (so long as they stay a safe distance away), and most times, ladies stop as well. He's never one to turn away a good story and is usually the first to know the town's gossip.

Sometimes, Jeb has a hard time keeping his smile straight. His heart, mended and sewn, still aches for what he's lost. During these times, it's hard to get him to speak even a single word. Most know to leave him alone and come back when he's better, but others poke and prod him until he nearly explodes. An upside to his moodiness is that the periods of depression never last very long.

Anger is a touchy issue with him. It takes a long time to build up, but once his anger is released, watch out. He's been known to break chairs (and faces on occasion) but would never carry on in such a fashion when ladies or children are concerned. Liquor turns him mean, so he stays away from it whenever possible. Drinking isn't something he particularly misses, but being so vigilant against it makes him long for it sometimes. Jeb calls it "just wanting something you can't have".

Past:

Jeb's father, Detlef, came to the United States when he was eighteen years old. He had been set up with a pretty German girl since birth -- Freja, her name was -- and they arrived in New York to start a better life. Their neighborhood was little more than a village but it was good compared to what they had seen in Germany, so the happily married couple was content. Settling down, they decided two years later to have a child. When Freja was a few months into her pregnancy, rumors began to float around about illegal immigrants living in their apartment building. The two knew that even though they were not illegal immigrants, they could still be subject to questioning. Detlef's wife was extremely worried, as was Detlef himself, but he refused to show it. One night, after Freja had gone to sleep, Detlef stayed awake, gazing out the window. Suggestions were running through his head of what to do, and finally he decided to leave her. Being a cowardly man, he was afraid of what the police would do to them and refused to be around for when it would happen. For reasons unknown, he would not take his wife and unborn child with him.

The only way he could go was west. There were plenty of job opportunities there and he would never have to worry about crossing paths with Freja (or his child) ever again. Using what little money he had, he bought an old Morgan gelding and a little food and water, then set off on his way.

Most thought he was a vagabond and stayed out of his way. Detlef had acquired a mean look in his eye from dealing with dangerous passersby and hadn't washed in days. A state or so over from where Jeb currently resides, Detlef was shot in the wrist by a rogue attempting to steal the only thing he had left to his name; his horse. Managing to escape, he stumbled upon a Native American tribe who took it upon themselves to nurse him back to health.

As he healed, he made friends with the members. Especially one girl, Mai. He being twenty-eight at the time and her only being sixteen made no difference to the Lakotas. A rival tribe attacked while he was there and he was one of the lead warriors. The chieftan granted his daughter to Detlef as a wife and soon, she was also pregnant. The Lakota were happy with this arrangement until one night, Detlef decided it was time to leave once more. It is said that he was caught by graverobbers and killed before he reached the edge of the state.

The tribe unwillingly had to kick Mai out of their rankings, since she had been with a man and he had left her. It was a tearful goodbye but she trudged on to Cahone where she raised her son. She named him James, to be called Jeb, and gave him the middle name of Tala meaning wolf in her language. She hoped the name would give him strength. His life thus far had been difficult.

She died when he was four years old. Jeb can remember it like yesterday but mostly refuses to. She was sickly, of some sort of pneumonia, and never recovered. To everyone's surprise, no one would take the child to raise. The blacksmith at the time, Old Jim Hanks, took him in. Jeb was treated more like an apprentice than a child and grew up quickly. By the age of eleven, he knew every rule of the trade. Making horseshoes, fitting them, and attaching them were his specialty. Jim would let him calm the horses, since that was what he seemed to enjoy the most. They secretly reminded him of his mother, who loved horses more than any one thing on Earth. That revelation threw him headlong into blacksmithing.

A few weeks after Jeb turned twenty-four, Jim died. He was bringing in a horse to be fitted for shoes and had a heart attack, dying instantly. The loss of his guardian sent him into a violent downward spiral, and he began to frequent bars, although he never had before. Drinking was his solace, the only thing that kept him strong and numbed his nerves in the harsh world. The only thing holding a part of him back was how the alcohol made him feel. This... intense anger was more than anything he had ever felt before, and it scared him. Jeb, being as stubborn as an ox, pushed it to the side until that night at the bar.

A drunken man asked him about Jim, saying that the "old coot was better off dead anyway" and Jeb lost it, cracking the man's jaw with one swing. The man retaliated by splitting his lip with a broken beer bottle, resulting in a night in the slammer for both of them and more than ten stitches in both lips. The next morning, Jeb realized what he had done and vowed never to do it again. It didn't help when a young woman began to stalk him, obsessing over his every move. One night, blows came to blows, and Jeb had been drinking. She came at him with a knife, and he slapped her in the face. Hard. This time, when he sobered up, he gave up the drink for good.

He had been courting a girl at the time. She left him for another with a better job, a better lifestyle. To this day, he is still torn up inside about it.

If Jeb were to be asked about his past life now, he'd maybe give details here and there, but not many. His broken heart has been through too many troubles to relive them all again. Jeb considers his one true friend to be his Paint gelding, Iye. His name means smoke in his mother's language, which is fitting seeing how his dark gray patches look like smoke on a white background. Jeb is closer to that horse than to any other living thing.

[Sephiramy]

Excellent! I enjoyed reading his history. Accepted of course!