Jurgen Tarol

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Jurgen Tarol
Jurgen Tarol
(yer-gin (terr-roll)
Created by Johnny
Information
Gender Male
Occupation Ji'val
Affiliation The Grey Tower
Nationality Ghealdanin
Attributes
Weapon Skills
  • Axes ✦✦
  • Bow ✦
  • Sword ✦
  • Unarmed ✦

Jurgen Tarol is a Ghealdanin Ji'val of the Grey Tower.

Description

Jurgen is a rather large man, a little over six foot, and he is very expressive. He does not hold back his thoughts or actions. He's got blue-ish steel eyes and light brown hair. He's been accused an Aiel before but he isn't. His dominating facial features is the three scars that frame his face. The main one starts from where his right eye joins onto his nose bridge and runs at an angle to where the jawbone first flattens out below the muscle. This injury, caused by a bandit, severed nerves and some muscle so he can't smile or gesture properly with that quandrant of his face. This also causes his face to look slightly off kelter. The other two are like little swooshes, one on top of the left end of his left eyebrow, the other under the left end of his lips. His hair, he tries to keep it as short as he can with his knife so it looks a little ragged. He cannot grow a decent looking beard so he is quite sensitive about not having one. He's quite strong but by no means a giant. Now for his temperment. Jurgen is an easy-going guy. You can make him angry but he cools down pretty quick. With his dark past, he has a relatively loose sense of right and wrong but overall he's a good.He hates Darkfriends and anything associated with them for giving him the main scar on his face. He's generally polite being a bit of a country boy, and likes most of who he meets unless they're whiners and then he doesn't care for them. His general motto is to do what you can while you can, so he figures that joining the Tower is the best way to fight Darkfriends. He will get any task before him done well and fast.

Biography

Being a whore's son isn't a good way to grow up.

While fancy noblemen and merchants stroll through the streets wearing fine silks and linen you sit in some dark house while some man plugs your mother. I hated that city and I hated that house. Every day I dreamed I would leave that place and run away. Now it all streams into a single band of dark images except the one. This memory I long to forget, it burns into my eyes every night.

Jena screamed as a dagger stabbed into her back. Her eyes bored into mine as the blood spouted out of her back and into the street. I screamed and ran at the footpad. I was so little back then. He picked me up like a rag-doll as he laughed at my puny struggle. I kept trying to attack him but he just kept laughing. Finally I just gave up and he asked me my name.

"Jurgen," I sobbed.

He said to me with a grin, "Here's something for the Great Lord to remember you by."

Then he cut into my face with that dagger. I screamed and flailed but to no avail. As Jena's and my blood mixed together flowing from my cheek I thought, why did this man attack us? Why was he waiting in this alley? What being could get joy from killing innocents?

I awoke. I looked around surprised to see curtains, walls and what! Clean sheets? Then I felt my face burst into incredible pain. I winced and tears came out of my eyes. I reached up with my right hand and felt a bandage across my face. I slowly, wincing and sobbing at every wave of pain, felt along my wound. By the light, it was long. My face felt wrong almost as if it sagged. Why was my face like this?

Then it hit me, Jena, the footpad, oh light, the knife, that knife. "Something to remember you by", then pain. My mind refused to accept, my heart refused to believe, but that didn't change that Janna was still there, on the ground, dead. I bowed my head and cried till I fell asleep again.

I awoke. I looked around the unfamiliar room. No one sat waiting, just some curtains, window and some clothing laying at the foot of the bed. Daylight streamed into the room and the warm smell of bread permeated the air. I slowly and gingerly got of the bed, every jolt an excruciating pain. I put on the clothing at the end of the bed over my underclothes. The trousers and brown shirt were a little too big, but at the time I had never had fitten clothing so I didn't mind. Still don't now. I contemplated whether or not to go downstairs and see who were my benefactors or oppressors. My stomach rumbled for food. I felt like I haven't ate in days. It couldn't get any worse than that light-awful whorehouse.

I stepped to the door and twisted the handle. A hallway was before me with three doors. One on the left wall, one on the right hall, and one at the end. I crept slowly to the first one, and turned the knob. A bedroom. I crept across the narrow hall and flattened myself against the wall and peeked slowly into the doorway. The doorway led to some stairs and the stairs led to some sort of wooden floor. I couldn't tell what the purpose of this place was, but all of a sudden I saw a large man step to the bottom of the stairs. I almost died from the scare. I slipped back across the hallway and slipped into the bedroom, my mind racing.

I entered the door and closed it quietly behind me. The room was empty. I looked quickly for a hiding place. I was not about to become another slave. I needed to find out who these people were before I revealed myself. The man reached the other door and entered. I ran to the closet and hid myself in the clothes inside. I heard the man call downstairs. "Hey Lorna, did you see the boy downstairs?"

"No honey, I didn't. Why?" came a female voice. She sounded warm and friendly like a grandmother.

"He's not in Jacob's room, and he took the clothes" responded the man.

"Oh no, I hope he didn't run away. He wasn't in good shape. Such a horrible thing, doing that to a young boy. Check the upstairs, Alric. I'll see if he is down here."

The man, Alric, opened the door to the room I was hiding in and entered. He was a middle-aged man, well built, with a worried frown on his weathered features. He was dressed in a common tunic and trousers. He looked around the room and his eyes stopped just beneath where I stood in the closet.

"Son, feet do not belong in a closet. They belong downstairs eating some of my wife's bread and soup. They are rather good, I've heard." He said this with a smile on his face. "Come on, don't be afraid. We will not harm you."

As Alric and Lorna fed me some wonderful bread they told me that Alric had found me laying unconscious in the dirt later that night, and that they had nursed me back to health. I had been laying unconscious for three days. They raised me to be right and strong. Alric was my only father and he taught me how to overcome anger and emotion to be happy even while it seemed the Dark One was bearing everything down on you. Sometimes it seemed as though the world would die and somehow they would find some way to make me happy. I owe them everything.

When I was older, Alric taught me what he knew of weaponry. The sword, axe and knife. I took to the axe well. Alric always thought that it was a funny sight for me to use the great axe of his father's which was taller than me at the time. Soon I grew of age and started looking for work. I was ready to see what was outside of that city so I signed with a merchant caravan and bade farewell to Alric and Lorna.

A few years and scars later in Jehannah I met a Warder. He was just curiously looking at the weapons in a merchants shop beside the booth that his charge was in. I was leaning up against the booth watching him. He picked up my long war axe, or great axe, that was lying on the side. He didn't know that it was mine. I walked up to him and asked what he thought about it. He said that it was too heavy for fighting men without armor, but he respected any man who wielded it well. I told him that for common fighting men, I was no pushover and that it was my axe.

He told me to show him.

I did and got spanked on the rear with his sword for it. Although it was embarrassing that he beat me so easily, I was surprised at the lack of joy in the fact he won. In fact he wasn't pleased because he beat me but because I could defend for more than a few seconds against his sword. All of a sudden I heard a feminine voice say,

"Having fun beating up the locals, Jarin?" I turned and saw the agelessness of an Aes Sedai peeking from under a green hood.

"No, Tera, I'm just seeing how good this boy is"

"Well," she said,"Do you think he has potential?"

"Perhaps. He shows good form without extensive training. He also has control over his movements."

"Well then lets take him along if he wants to come."

Jarin turned to me and asked, "Boy, do you want to fight against the Shadow with every last breath, even though it means sacrificing everything you have?"

I paused for a second. I thought of Jena. I thought of the father and mother back home. I remembered the the Darkfriend grinning as he said "Here's something for the Great Lord to remember you by." I thought, I'll give him something else to remember me by. I turned to Jarin and said,

"Yes."

So here I am.

Career History

  • Drin
  • Ji'val (4 May 2010)