Jeremiah Fletcher

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Jeremiah Fletcher
Jeremiah Fletcher
Jer-ih-my-ah Fletch-er
Created by Aaron
Information
Gender Male
Occupation Ji'val
Affiliation The Grey Tower
Nationality Cairhienin
Attributes
Weapon Skills
  • Dagger ✦✦✦
  • Unarmed ✦✦
Masteries

Jeremiah Fletcher is a Cairhienin Ji'val of the Grey Tower.

Description

Jeremiah is a little on the short side, about 5'8”. His skin is quite pale due to his nation of origin. His eyes and hair are a dark brown. His hair has been recently cropped at about the shoulder. His clothes are always well maintained and his demeanor is warm and friendly. He seems like a nice, polite, productive member of society. This could not be further from the truth.

Jeremiah's insanity is layered. The first and worst of his problems is his compulsion to kill. He has to do it a certain way however. Jeremiah likes to cut his victims. He keeps a collection of various knives for just such a purpose. His favorite is a straight razor that belonged to his father. The handle is made of sandalwood and has a small crest on it. If he does not kill in his ritualized fashion he doesn't feel fulfilled. Killing also tends to make the voices he hears go quiet for months on end.

His second problem is the presence of voices that are not his own. It sounds to him as if he is in a crowd of people. He has figured out how to differentiate these voices from actual voices of people talking to him. This is his most prominent problem. Some of the voices even have names. The Teacher is his protector. It provides vital advice to keep him out of danger. The Teacher is the reason he hasn't been caught yet. Gnasher is the second voice. He is ruthless and impatient. He is unrestrained impulse. The Voice Within is what Jeremiah regards as his true self. This voice only speaks when he is in times of extreme danger. If The Voice Within speaks, Jeremiah has been pushed past the breaking point.

His third neurosis is a paranoia that comes and goes at random intervals. When he is in a paranoid state, he feels as if he is being followed by people who know about all of the murders he's committed. Sometimes they want revenge, other times it's justice. The likelihood that there's actually anyone following him is low.

Finally, Jeremiah is a psychopath. He is cold and devoid of much emotion. He is, on the whole, incapable of empathizing with other human beings. There are very few occasions where this has occurred. Charisma, violence, intimidation and manipulation are all things he will use to assert his power over others. The killings are all about power. His power over others. He knows no fear, even in situations where he should be afraid for his own well being. If it weren't for The Teacher, Jeremiah would probably have died long ago. His psychopathy allows him to emulate a normal, sane human being. This is something he does at all times.

Biography

A silver white ribbon made of light flashed across Jeremiah’s vision. A warm red black mist followed. He inhaled, taking in the exciting and reviling smell. Some things in life were comforting. Jeremiah depended on these things. If you cut someone deep enough in the right places, they generally stopped twitching after a while. As the life ebbed out of the man he had slain the noise in his head subsided for a time. This was the way of things, whenever he was especially focused his head would quiet, if only momentarily. They simply wouldn’t stop following him.

Don’t touch your hair; your hand is covered with blood. The Teacher spoke. When The Teacher spoke, Jeremiah listened.

He wiped off the dagger on the dead man’s pant leg and sheathed it. A strand of his dark brown hair hung in front of his face. He mustn’t touch it. The Teacher commanded. He took a moment to remember where he was. Often just before the red mist the noise in his head would get so loud that he forgot where he was or what he was doing. He was in a barn. Of course he was, he’d been trying to hide from Them. One of them found him though. He hadn’t been careful enough. He hadn’t listened carefully enough to The Teacher. This one looked like an ordinary traveler, but he was one of Them. Jeremiah could tell. He had a way of knowing these things.

He submerged his arms up to the elbow in a watering trough. He watched as the blood slowly spread away from his arms. He had to move quickly now. Someone may have heard. He knew he had to act normal, and being found with a corpse was not normal. Being found with one such as this, which had its throat cut unnecessarily deeply, was in fact, downright suspicious. The fact that his was the only dagger in the barn would serve to complicate matters.

He wouldn’t wait for The Teacher’s admonishment. He grabbed his pack and slung it over his shoulder. He moved as quickly as he could. In his mind, the farmer in the house down the hill had heard everything and was coming up the hill with ten able bodied men to hunt Jeremiah down. The fact that the house down the hill was a good distance away, and he had come upon the man sleeping in the barn by surprise did nothing to ease his fears.

We were back on the road, he couldn’t remember which road. They had come for him in Caemlyn. He was moving away from Caemlyn, which was all that was important. His pale skin sho ne in the moonlight a trademark of his homeland of Cairhien. The place of his birth was all but a distant memory now. He was young true, but his mind was clearly not strong. Of all the voices in his head, including his own, only The Teacher was sane.

He had been on the move for the last couple of years. If he stayed in one place too long, They would come for him. He didn’t know who They were; he knew only that They meant him harm. Maybe he had known once, but that was gone with his sanity. Perhaps, The Teacher knew.

It was weeks later, and much further from Caemlyn when he heard the first bit of good news. He was in the common room of an inn in Baerlon, when he had overheard two gentlemen discussing a place where channelers gathered to learn. Surely even They would be afraid of those who wielded the One Power. After further eavesdropping, he found that they also trained people to protect those who wielded this awesome force. He could learn to fight. They wouldn’t come for him there, and perhaps he could learn to fight them too. The Teacher didn’t disagree.

He smiled softly to himself as he approached the counter. His hair was neatly tied at the back of his neck, his clothes were not too fine, but not too shabby. They were well kept. He was a stark contrast from the man he had been in the barn those few short weeks before. His speech was refined and calm. None of his inner turmoil showed through. The Teacher had instructed him well. He would set out for Hama Valon in the morning. He smiled charmingly at the lady behind the counter.

“Excuse me madam, I’d like a room for the night.”

Career History

  • Drin
  • Ji'val (17 April 2010)