-=Jackson Porter The Resolute=-

[Sandman_Plays 189]

Spoiler

 

Artwork by Unbaed
Special thanks:
Xarkly for the events

The Haense Community
The HRA

 

 

Jackson Porter
b. 323 ES | d. 372 ES
 

 

---

 

The Rimeveld

 

Jackson was undisputedly tired, for the last few years barely a day went by when he wasn’t battling the elements of the Rimeveld, whether it was the cold sweeping winds, that felt as if pure ice had settled beneath your skin, or the beasts that prowl the deep cold tundra, and yet here he was still enduring the seemingly tortured existence, that had been so gratefully bestowed upon him, his sharp blue eyes stared out into the snow white landscape the woods that surround him hiding the majority of anything in its dark clutches, however with his traps painfully empty, the old Lieutenant of Haense simply marches upward back to his basecamp atop a painfully steep incline, and opts to rest for the evening.

However as the saying goes there is no rest for the wicked, the man sits, toes pointing toward an orange hue the flames licking at his stabbatons, the stars above seem to watch the ever Resolute Jackson Porter, his trusty blade made for him by the Ever present father figure in his life Ser Zoddric Calliban, rests by his side sheathed, it's only recent glory was slaying a bear or two, He hums as he watches the sky darken over head, and from his glacial isolation Jackson would wait, the last words of the man he had done so much to save Friedrich barclay Rattling from within his conscious tomb, a great sadness falling over him once again,
“I miss my home” He would utter glumly as a fall of light snow would begin to fall from the sky to which the only answer Jackson had was to throw his large bear cloak over his chest, taking a deep sigh he wasn’t entirely sure this could be any worse.

As the night began to fall in atop the snow tipped peak of Jackson’s eternal concealment he hears the soft lull of the wind and the occasional howl of the wolves that roam the deep woods below and yet he slumbers reasonably sound, his dreams entirely revolving around his fiance, and how he had slipped away, grabbing only his essentials before making his move into the Rimeveld, knowing he hadn’t got long he broke away from Haense with haste, desperate to not answer any further awkward questions and perhaps be forced into more uncomfortable situations as the one that had forced his hand had been. Within two weeks he had found himself in his now aforementioned camp, and years had passed since his abrupt departure, but yet there was not a day he did not think of her, with that notion in his mind it stuck like a brand to naked flesh, the man could never forget, he jolts up suddenly.
 

Jackson would awake to the sound of all hell fire erupting around him, staring out into the crisp white landscape still mostly veiled by the velvet darkness of night, he would see what appeared to be torches, and the booming echoes of combat harrowing up the mountain side he eyes the scene though due to the distance and the darkness he could only make out in a squint, grabbing his blade he stamps out the remnants of his fire crushing the embers beneath his boot, before moving alongside the outskirt of his mountain abode, trekking down slowly but carefully as to not reveal himself, his greatest fear was that his failure had not been forgotten and now the consequences came for him, so with that thought placed firmly he would set forth down the slope.

As he approaches the rather interesting scene, he would see around fifteen HRA men, sieging a defended position against the troll menace, though it seemed they had come under heavy fire and in fact taking a severe beating, Jackson ponders a moment holding the sheathed claymore as he watches the onslaught continue for a few moments, before taking a deep breath allowing the cool mist like Rimeveld air pass from his lungs, he waits for a prime moment to begin his plan, watching the lord marshal bellow his orders to those gathered as they continued to struggle against the heavily armed troll position.

After the momentary silence, Jackson would stand taking a mighty deep breath raising a Haeseni War Horn to his mouth, a gift from Friedrich Barclay months before he had left, and blowing hard to create a deep rumbling sound of war, from the mountainside the natural echo of the sheltered cave only amplifying the sound into a vicious roar, the whole field would hear as Jackson lept from his position drawing the Claymore Corvus Albus and charging towards the trolls whom had managed to corner the Lord marshal of Haense, Jackson Crashed into their lines swinging his blade with every ounce of Ferocity the old Lieutenant had, slashing across limbs the man fought bravely his only task to make his way to the Lord marshal, his oldest friend. Crashing through the line, he faced off amongst the infinitely more powerful troll group the only thing standing between the lord marshal and certain death.

As the dance of death intensifies, the Resolute would be faced with a deadly ultimatum he found himself picked up by a troll, tightly in its grip, its war hammer cocked back ready to near enough wipe him from the lands of Almaris, his only solace was his blade was still free, so as the beast moved to slam him with the force of 10 men, Jackson rammed his blade downward meeting the trolls shoulder, slipping between the bones and deep into the chest cavity, eventually meeting its mark, at the beating heart of the enraged being, the victory was short lived however, as the piercing blow felt from the back end of the hammer was felt rupturing through his chest and armour, deep into his organs, Jackson’s eyes fell wide as he slipped from the trolls grip, his blood like so many times before staining the cold snow below him, though it seemed that this time, was the last time, the damage irreparable.

Jackson would lay there, coughing weakly as his life force drains from him, the warm crimson ichor snaking rivers and trenches into the cold snow below, his eyes setting upon the sky above him as the dark velvet night had slowly transpired into dawn, the bright golden hue shone over the highland peaks however the valley in which they found themselves in became illuminated, the trolls around lay dead the HRA stood Unbroken in the dawn of the light the brotherhood having survived another costly ordeal, and yet Jackson found himself lying there, unable to express the joy the others had found, instead he knew that within a few moments his soul would leave his mortal coil, and his faith in Godan would be tested, the only solace was that of the sun, its warm light seemed to embrace Jackson’s body for the first time in years, he was not cold and it was bliss.

A unison of howls emerged front the untamed forests of the Rimeveld, the day was won, the true cost no one would know but as Jackson found his own peace Friedrich would approach, Jackson would stare at him before beckoning him closer whispering into his ear, the exact details are unknown though it is told that he recited his Othaman’s oath, and gave Friedrich his final will and testament. The man's slow death was painful yet a slight relief of the burden of his rather interesting existence, he closed his eyes for his final time, as his soul dispersed from his body, leaving the mortal essence left, and thus ended Jackson’s final battle.

His final debt to the Lord marshal repaid, in blood, Jackson’s name respectfully restored into the kind thoughts in people's minds, from the eighteen year old boy who had wandered into Haense to escape his boring life, to the twenty year old serving upon the front lines of the Inferi war, to the thirty year old who had spent his time protecting kings, and pontiffs and now the fifty year old, who had died where he belonged, alongside his brothers in arms, despite rescinding his oath he had always been a true Haeseni and now laid to rest in Haense land.
 

Memoriae

 

At a young age it was clear to Jackson that he was destined to be a little more than the oversized farm boy abused by his parents, and from his tragic beginning he transformed into someone of notability and stature, the man practised his craft, and in his time saw two kings, two pontiffs and two Lord marshals, serving each in his own distinction, He had loved, he had lost but most importantly he had found his true self, Jackson Porter goes down into Memory, though with any luck his legacy survives.

Upon the heated battle field of the inferi war, Jackson Found himself side by side by the first Lord Marshal of Haeseni Ruska, Lord Manfred Barclay, Jackson had fought bravely and as per usual the HRA had won the day, but as a brutally heated clash came to fruition Jackson Saw a spear heading straight for the Honorable lord, and instinctively threw himself into harm's way to protect the man, which in its own right had saved him, before dragging him back before the medics to be helped, he returned moments later to engage once again upon the field. This act earned him two medals, One being the Queens cross gifted to him by the Queen, Isabel Barbonov, a woman who unfortunately for Jackson only spelled trouble for his future, and also the Infernal scourge medal, presented to all those whom had put their lives on the line to hold back the demonic tides.

As Jackson Progressed through his time with the HRA there came a moment after his oath hunt in which he had to make the choice of what regiment he was destined to join, in the end he picked the Rangers guild led by none other then Ozark Mondblume, whom quickly took Jackson under his wing as he realised his own potential, for the first time in his Life Jackson felt as if he belonged a smile would emerge and stay for most of the man's youth, a vibrant happy smile, one of a completed person.

 

He rose to infamy within the Guild of Bounty hunters which resided outside of haense, Jackson leading the group on many assaults against the seemingly never ending enemy, here he met his lifelong friend Fyodor Erhdhart although they didn’t always see eye to eye, the care these two placed within one another was astounding, as when the slum dwellers looked to Jackson to lead them for a final assault against those who wished to do them harm, Jackson had no choice but to answer the call, the man knowing full well he was their last and only hope, he led the group of unarmed untrained slum dwellers against a well equipped and well provisioned stack of men and by the luck of Godan above Jackson and his men, won the day, at the expense of many, though nonetheless a victory was a victory.

 

His new found confidence saw him skyrocket within the HRA as he continuously showed his value in trainings and leading, in fact it became apparent that the men that surrounded him had grown a fond respect for him, his brothers in arms, some notable ones were Friedrich Barclay, Ellisar Aevaris, Fionn Castaway and of course William Carolus, the bond between these men emanating to this very day, this showed to his most profound achievement, Becoming a Lieutenant within the HRA, Jackson was working side by side the Lord marshal as his second in command.

Jackson earned himself a holy medal, in quite the extraordinary fashion, as the City of Haense welcomed the newly elected Pontiff within her walls, they had come to realise this pontiff was not so well liked throughout the lands of Almaris, in fact so much so that the HRA was on a full standby for riots and assassins, and after returning from an intensive situation the HRA were armed with batons and riot gear by the current lord marshal Manfred Barclay, and took up positions over the church to defend from all manners of evils, Jackson found himself as he always did on roof duty, which up until this point had been quite the boring set up, however when Jackson rounded the corner to find an assassin attempting to murder the pontiff from the window his reactions kicked in, Jackson went toe to toe with the man, fighting with him until he had managed to subdue him with a small help from none other then the young Stefan Vyronov, and act that still had impressed the middle aged man to the day he passed.

 

He was awarded a medal for his efforts from the High pontiff himself, though notably a few years later when a new one was elected Jackson handed the medal back to the High pontiff saying that he did not feel like he had earned the right to wear such a thing as things about the man who had given him the medal began to surface.

Jackson was offered a knighthood for his service to Haense and Almaris, something he had longed for, and yet in the end was unable to claim, he had always felt a desperate urge to make a name for himself and to bring the wreckage that was the Porter name up into value and legacy, perhaps he did manage it in his own way though only time will tell, either way, he passed through his trials with relative ease, taking on a dire boar for Norland, even a wyvern for the Druids and still continued in his duties, to the Koeng and to Godan he found himself at his last trial before the Late Isabel Barbanov at this time the queen mother as well as Princess Juliya found themselves placed seconds from death as a suicide bomber entered Haense, within an instant Jackson had flung himself before the royalty of haense taking much of the blast to his back, littering his flesh with yet more scars, his blood stained into the Crow in the center of the city forever, for such a deed he was awarded a free pass on his trials, deeming him to be a man worthy of Knighthood.

 

Yet just a few days before his oathing, He pulled out, advised by the Koeng himself to do so, as to provide himself once more to service in Haense, though that service can never be spoken off, and though he will never utter the words again one could likely decipher that what the Koeng had Asked Jackson Porter to do was at the utmost importance.

Edited May 10, 2021 by Sandman_Plays

[TreeSmoothie 4862]

"Jackson," an old alchemist muttered, staring down at the tome with blurry eyes. Her thumb graced the paper, grazing atop a few droplets that'd fallen upon it. "Ye' weren't supposed to die. Never got to catch up with you, after . . . After I had to go off n' deal with those bandits. Why did you have to die?" Viktoriya whimpered, the giantess falling into her wooden seat with a THUD. "Godan, damn it all. Ye' were one of my only friends left."

[Maevlin 681]

Dr. Aestenia Aevaris had just moved Jackson's now lifeless body from the general morgue to the specific storage until she can track down his remaining family. All the while she kept thinking how she failed him. Her mentors had warned you never forget a patient you failed to save, and this one would always stay with her. "Maybe there is an afterlife where you're happy. Van'ayla llir" 

[Fionn__TWG 2616]

Fionn Castaway had just finished a gruelling fight with a nachezer, something he unfortunately never got to fight alongside the man who had recruited him, the man he had considered his brother for his whole life in Haense. A bird would arrive for him as he sat atop a medical cot inside the medical tent "Weird" he thought to himself "I though the letter drive happened yesterday. A straggler, maybe?" He'd open the letter and read it, only a moment passing by after the seal was broken before a stab like pain went through his heart. A million thoughts rushed through his head, the interview with Jackson before becoming an initiate, the countless drinks they shared together, the year spent in the Rimeveld alongside William and Lorenz, the situation with a certain Mondblume, among many other things. A few tears would fall from his eye as his eyepatch started to get a wet patch, looking up to the skies and raising a salute with his strong hand.

"No one deserves the eternal rest more than tú, sir. Rest easy, tú mad bastard."

[MotherLay 815]

Juliya Ipera becomes ridden with grief as she hears of Jackson's passing. She never forgot that day, when he nearly gave his life to protect her sister-in-law. She never forgot how kind he had been, how dedicated he was to his work.  

 

"Rest easy, Jackson."

[MissToni 3487]

Katerina Ceciliya glanced at Jackson Porter's body as he was carried away by the lord marshal. The words she had been told upon seeing the corpse still rung in her head. Her eyes now staring up at the sky as she whispered the words into the cold air that the man never got to hear whilst alive.

 

"I forgive vy, Jackson" 

[Capt_Chief26 1205]

Reserved

[Limo_man 403]

Reserved

 

[GMRO 5245]

Ser Boris var Ruthern welcomed the soldier to the Seven skies as he had once welcomed the man to Haense originally. "Perhaps vy might earn some knighthood now that vy rest. Welcome to the Seven Skies, come and be amongst vyr borsas." He gestured then to the other HRA, long departed.

[Wolfey34 243]

Fyodor Erhdhart sat in his cottage with a pensive look on his face. Something was wrong in the air, he could taste it. When the letter arrived his fears had been proved true. Jackson Porter was dead. A man who he had spent years fighting alongside and defending those unfortunate enough to be targeted by the bandit group in the woods. Fyodor would gather up his wife and kids and regale them with stories of the brave Jackson Porter. After a long night, his voice would become ragged and he finally stopped. When everyone else went off to bed Fyodor would pick up a pen and dip it in ink. "Too many good men get forgotten. I will try and make sure ye are remembered old friend." the former sergeant would murmur  "Though I was supposed to leave this world before ye."

 

Stefan B. Vyronov rested in the clinic after a long battle. He had helped save many people, getting them away from the battle. After he woke from his unconsciousness he was greeted with the news of Jackson's death. Stefan remembered the man, though his many year absence didn't help with that. He remembered saving the pontiff alongside him. Stefan remembered how good of a man he seemed. He wished he could've saved Jackson on that cold day.

[Kemobrown 567]

Somewhere out on the plains of a distant destination far from Haense, Nadya Ivankov puffs on another cigar as her fishing line dangles in the gugrling stream. The line suddenly snaps, the catch quickly escaping much to her disgruntlement.

 

”Bad omens.” She mutters, trail of smoke exhaled from her lips, her severe features deepening in a sorrowful frown.

 

She raises her flask of Carrion, saluting her once brother in arms.

”Perrhaps soon I’ll join you, Jackson.”

[UnBaed 8910]

Spoiler

Was a pleasure to do the artwork!  Unfortunate that you and I have never RP'd though D; Perhaps your next character!

 

[Diaolos 204]

Reserved

[Althea 177]

Aeira Barclay wondered where that one Jackson Porter went. She found it ironic that all her friends ended up leaving her behind one way or another. "One damned day I will join you all, hopefully in the same place."

[EnderMaiashiro 663]

Marie Barclay, now Vyronov, stood to the side as the Lord Marshal Friedrich Barclay carried Jackson Porter past the tavern, a feeling of unease settled upon her as they passed. Her eyes set on his face, a well knowing stare at the face of death. While the yound Dame had not known him well, Marie highly respected the man both in life and death. Never once had she a bad interraction with him. Never once did she hear negative utterance of his name. She was sad to see him go so soon, however relieved that knowing the man, he would have rathered die fighting than sitting at home idle. A common notion among Haensemen. Her lips formed a faint frown as the Marshal continued his tread. Her fist clenched as she soon followed with a salute to the fallen man. "May he rest in peace within the Seven Skies, and welcomed with open arms as he deserves."