Jak was an odd fellow. He was a man of rare quality and questionable behaviour, he often could be found to pendulum between one end of a decision to the other on the merest of whims. His biggest drawback in terms of his character was that he laughed too much, felt sorrow so bitterly and fell in love too quickly and too hard. This is perhaps how Jak was to be found lying quite still and quite silent next to a river in the middle of the day, his head poked over one side and his arm deep to the wiry muscle beneath his shoulder in the crystalline depths of the Hogsmylle river. Tentatively he tickled the fish that was hiding under the rock of the rivers edge on top of its head, to which the fish gave a little squirm- and in an instant, Jak's hand clasped around the fish's fat belly and hauled in out in to the air. Jak smiled as he laid the fish next to the other two he had previously caught that day- he had been there all afternoon, waiting and waiting for the foolish fish to succumb to his tickles. Whistling idly as he produced a small knife from nowhere in particular and began descaling the fishes, he would eat well tonight.
Jak was of the wandering kin of Worstar, he found himself roving around the towns and villages near his home- from Eppon in the south, to Kinnstone in the north. He applied himself to a hundred tasks, though was master of none. He was a man of stories, of gambling, of drinking and of wenching. Many called him friend and few muttered enemy of Jak- and any who did often found themselves the wrong side of his twin short swords, with which he was at least competent (though he'd never be a warrior of renown). It was as the night was drawing on, the fish were now cooked and safely in Jak's belly, Jak lay under a rather stout looking oak tree, his saddle bags under his head for a pillow and a pipe stem between his teeth that Jak began to ponder his next movements. He pondered long and hard, until the sun had slipped beneath the horizon and the stars shone overhead. His horse, Swift, whickered in her sleep as an owl hooted ostentatiously from a nearby redwood. The coals of Jak's fire burnt low and it was not long before he found himself dozing, his pipe tumbled from his mouth, his wide brimmed hat felt over his eyes and he succumbed to the world of dreams.
Jak stumbled down a large wooded embankment towards a small, yet fast running stream no wider than six paces- which he jumped in one smooth motion as if mass and weight were of no importance. The air hummed as if excited, though whether it hummed malevolently or benevolently- he could not say. A fine mist hung over the ground, swirling and eddying has Jak strode towards his destination- a soft light in the distance. He dodged between pine and birch, ash and fir- his feet crunching upon a bed of leaves, needles, acorns and conkers. Until eventually, suddenly, he reached his destination. He halted mid stride, his chest barely moving despite the exertion of his run. Before him stood a tall, slender female figure garbed in a flowing gown of silver and blue. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the strange light, and her long dark hair hung full and flowing down her back. Wordlessly he stumbled towards her, one arm outstretched- and as he did, the light dimmed to almost pitch darkness. He grasped her hand and pulled her around to face him, with no time to take in what he was seeing he lowered his mouth to hers as the darkness rolled over him…
The kiss was sloppy and wet, with the taste of straw and smell of horse heavy on her breath. Jak's eyes snapped open, Swift stood above him washing his face faithfully. Jak rolled aside and wretched in disgust, spitting widely he fumbled for his water bottle, rinsed his mouth and spat- a process he repeated until he felt satisfied the horse taste was gone. He turned,
"What under the Gods do you think you're doing you crazy mare!" he spluttered,
Swift looked at least a little abashed, looking downwards and pawing at the floor with one hoof. Jak shook his head; he knew he should have hobbled her before he turned in for the night. Kicking some dirt over the now cold coals of his campfire, he set about saddling Swift and attaching his saddle bags. Swinging his long green cloak around his shoulders, securing his twin short swords and settling his wide brimmed black hat. A quick search of the site revealed he had nearly left behind his pipe and pouch of tabac. Shaking his head ruefully he swung up onto Swift and heeled her into a slow trot out of the small copse of trees next to Hogsmylle and towards the dirt track which stretched from north to south as far as the eye could see. Jak pondered for a moment, he never had come to a conclusion the night before. He had been alone for a long time however, and provisions were running low. Need pushed him, he would travel to nearby Reynes for supplies and perhaps he'd stop by local tavern for a drink, maybe a few games of dice and perhaps even some female company. Whistling to himself merrily he turned eastward and began a slow canter across country to his destination.