Age: 31
Race: Tall Human
Belongings: A sketchpad (Old, worn down, and half filled with drawings), a small pouch of charcoal, a small carving knife, a waterskin, bag of food, a row of reed pipes that are slung by a leather strip around his hips (worn down and chipped but still useable), a small out of tune drum that is tied to the side of his bag, a bag for him to carry his belongings in, a thin strip of leather tied around his neck that holds a small 'warding' bag like a necklace and a bracelet made of bone beads and leather strips that are weaved loosely around his left wrist.
Physical Description:
A heavily dark skinned man riddled with hard muscle and a slightly deepened tone. He's tall with a heavy set torso but his lengthy arms and legs give him a more lanky appearance, his right shoulder tattooed though the marks have mostly faded into his skin. His hands are wider then the average man, the palms and fingers calloused by hard work while his skin is warmed and turned tough by the beating sun.
His legs are long but thick, near always braced apart in a lazy wide stance that gave the impression of no fear or simple arrogance. Truth is, it's neither. He just stands that way. Good firm buttocks
and feet that match that of the Sasquatch. This naturally causes trouble when trying to find shoes but he doesn't complain. Finally, his head. His hair is a thick dusky brown that covers his entire head and just past his shoulders blades in thick mass of dreadlocks. They unfortunately (or fortunately) grow both around his head and in front of his face, blocking away his eyes from those who tried to see them. This is his own belief that the eyes are a window to your soul, and unless he trusts you with his soul he doesn't like people seeing them. His wide pointed nose and thick lips are visible however along with his oddly well kept facial hair. Kept short James (or Jam Jam) sports a well fashioned Anchor beard that undoubtedly adds to his already odd appearance.
Clothes:
James does not like shirts. He will wear a small black jacket when necessary (food places and/or towns) but if given the chance would much rather run shirtless. A pair of old brown trousers and large traveling boots that are scuffed and worn in keep him covered enough while he wears the bracelet mentioned earlier constantly. He also wears a small leather necklace that holds on it a small pouch. The necklace can pass off as a cheap decoration but if one his people saw it they'd know what it was.
STRENGTHS
Mellow: Jam Jam is rather passive on most things. He's able to put past insults, ignore taunting, get the tar beat out of him, and still not hold a grudge. He simply looks at them as either pity or an attempt to understand as he stands quietly back up, dusts himself off, and keeps going the way he was. This 'passive' mode only lasts when it him or somebody who is able to defend themselves that gets 'attacked'. Should a person go for an animal, child, woman, the sick or his sketchbook he will most likely step in and defend them but not without a warning before he'll actually do damage.
Height: Being a rather tall sort of fellow, Jam Jam is able to reach things that shorter people can not. He also has the ability to run a bit faster then average and jump a tad higher but past that he doesn't really have much advantage to this other than being able to reach that damned top shelf.
Copy Me: James is always been talented at copying noises he hears with his voice,mouth or body. He can make his chest sound like a tanned drum, his whistle sound something like a pipe, and oddly enough he can lower his voice and growl much like a wild animal. More than once he's scared away bandits by letting loose the scream of a wild cat though this usually strains his throat if done too much so he just uses it when needed, not for fun purposes.
Child in me: Jam Jam is a child at heart. He loves children and will openly express his fondness of them without a pause. He will readily stop whatever he is doing to help a child in need and would even give his last piece of food to a starving one. More then once he's stopped in a town near the square to watch as the children played, kicking back the ball that went too far or pulling free a toy one of the bullies tossed in a tree. Though he scolds the bullies afterwards and gives them his words of advice, he none the less cares for them deeply. Whether it's because of his kindness, wise appearance, or simply childish way of speaking; children near instantly warm up to him and tell him all their secrets.
Artist: Carrying an old ratty sketchbook is Jam Jam's way of a journal. He draws the places he's encountered, the people he's befriended, and even the events that happened around him. If he sees a woman whose heart gets broken and he helps, he draws her with her face up. If he sees a family, cowering and sobbing over the grave of their drowned boy, he draws them in the rain with no covers over the newly made grave. Each sketch he draws tells a chapter of his life, telling the tales he's seen. It's because of his way of tales that he's such a good artist and it's also why he doesn't like people looking through his sketchbook. If he draws a picture of you, and you ask to see it he'd show you but to show you the entire book means he's trusting you with his life story. This in itself is an honor not many have received.
Pipes: Not really a strength but Jam Jam is a little higher than average on the pipes he's got. He can play a simple tune or play a ditty off the top of his head but he isn't something Mozart would want in his musical production. Not that James cares about an non-exsistant dead guy anyway.
Wise Sayings: James was always somebody who as the Leader said 'had an old soul'. When he listens to you, he'll give you advice not many would think of or sayings that make you think. He also however joys in giving people pointless riddles to help improve their brain. Unfortunately this tends to just stretch their patience more.
Trained in Voodoo: Jam Jam knows curses, hexes and even how to control a person using Voodoo. Perks being he also knows how to bring luck, cause romance, and give strength. Being a passive person however James doesn't like to use it, believing that luck and romance should be left alone. He also doesn't like uses curses either so he basically doesn't use it unless he's backed into a complete corner with somebody needing him.
Weaknesses
Illiterate: Jam Jam cannot read or write. He can recognize certain words like 'Inn', 'Guard', 'Hall', and vaguely tell which way he was going by comparing the markings on his map compared to the marks on signs. In a way he envies those who can read/write but learns to live with it. He would however like to learn if there was somebody who would teach him and not smack him with a stick.
Accent: If his appearance and manners don't give away his heritage, his accent does. Being something of a traveller, Jam Jam has a various mix of accents. By the end of it all he sounds like a Jamaican in our world. Already labeled strange for his odd appearance and love for children, this 'accent' makes him easily recognized as foreign and sometimes difficult to understand.
Honest: Jam jam is completely honest though he tries to be nice about it. He'll tell you what he thinks, feels, and where his loyalty lies without breaking a sweat but also tends to 'water the vinegar' when it comes to addressing somebody else's issues.
Non-stealthy: Jam Jam is simply too friggin' big to hide anywhere. In the woods, he could hold still in the dark and you wouldn't notice him unless you got close but in the city he sticks out like red on St. Patricks day. This can get rather difficult if he's trying to hide or get away so he tries to behave do to his... 'size complications'.
Eats like a Bull: Being a larger fellow, James needs to eat a bit more then the average man. Unfortunately, Jam Jam is also a bottomless pit and is nearly always hungry. He'll eat as much as he can (not picky on food mind you) and when he's finished with his belly stuffed within the hour he'll be barely content. This causes issues during long trips.
Misunderstood: Many parents don't like Jam Jam due to his love for children. They find him too large, too mean looking. Often they've called the guards in fear of their children and he spends a night or two in jail, alone in a cell due to his 'aggressive' appearance. Jam Jam never struggles or grudges the parents as he's being taken away. No, he simply puts it as 'time to think'. An optimistic bugger.
Wrong Impression: Like before, Jam Jam is slightly misunderstood though this time it's because of his size and general gait. His often lumbering way of walking and larger stature give him the look of a giant, mean and aggressive with little patience and killer moods. In truth, it's the complete opposite but he simply walks hunched over due to the habit of carrying heavy things on his back.
Traveler: James is and always will be a traveler. He's constantly on the move, making friends and leaving them behind despite the hurts it causes him. He's quick to bond with people, often feeling drawn to towns and claiming the wind brought him there. His friendships usually last a while and if his friends send word for needing him, he will turn around and head straight back to wherever he's needed.
A Workman's Life: Jam Jam has always learned to live off the land and earn what he can. He'll work hard for his pay, scrounge what he can, and still live contently within his own boundaries. Unfortunately do to his low income and constant traveling his appearance tends to get a little ratty. Not many snobby people like that much.
History
Jam Jam was born in a traveling caravan by a young woman named Jessia Vochida, a gorgeous singer whose dark pulling eyes often gave men a quick patter within their chests. Free spirited but naive, she fell deep into the illusions of first loves and forever romances. Many men were rejected by her, many others taken to bed by her. It was from one of these passions that Jamues Vochida was born.
At first, like many women she didn't suspect herself pregnant. She worked hard, sang , and romanced just the same. Then, she noticed something. A bump. A slowly growing bump that with each passing month seem to grow twice as large until she couldn't deny it any more and neither could the caravan. Jessia was pregnant.
Nothing much had changed save the now watching eye of the Caravan Leader. He ordered her not to see any more males, and should she go against his wishes she would be banned from the caravan and left behind. She agreed to the terms but it was not long before she was sneaking away to find more lovers. Three cities later the Leader saw her leaving, followed her, and found that she'd disobeyed him.Turning he walked back to the crew of wagons and sat silently near the fire until dawn.
Seeing her coming wasn't hard, not if you were looking. So, when he saw her silhouette against the raising sun he stood from his seat and walked to her wagon. Waiting outside her wagon, he stood before her with a dark look in his eye yet walked away without a word. Thinking she got off that time, Jessia wandered into her wagon and slept while another Traveler drove her wagon.
It wasn't long before she gave birth to a healthy boy just outside a small village, his squealing and squawks causing many of the caravan to laugh and hug. It was not often a baby was born, so to them it was something of a rare occasion. They hugged, and laughed and danced while Jessia lay miserably inside. Looking at the baby she only saw a burden that she didn't want, and the ending of a life she liked. Her mood stayed with her even when the Caravan Leader had arrived, his pleased congratulations dying on his lips when he saw her bitter face.
"What is wrong?" he asked frowning as he came to stand beside her. She looked up at him for a moment before looking back at the baby in her arms, her lips curling down tightly in a angry frown.
"I do not want this." she answered tears slipping out of her eyes and down her cheeks. "I had a life and with it, I was happy. Then this came, and I am forced to give up my search for love because I made a mistake and am now burdened. I wish it was gone!"
"You wish you never had that boy?" he asked slowly as he came to sit beside her. "If you chose between him and you, you would choose yourself to live?"
"I do not want it!" she shouted causing the baby to startled and wail. Hearing it she grit her teeth and fume. "Look? See what happened! I can do nothing without it wailing or whining! It's loud and smells! I have no need nor want of it!"
"Then, you chose yourself over that boy?"
"If I could, I would." came the hot reply as she struggled to silence it with jerky rocking. "I'd never have him if I had a choice!"
"..." The Leader went quiet before slowly he stretched out his arms and spoke in a low tone. "If you truly wish you never saw this child, if you wish to never see it again and for it to not become part of your family then give him here. I will see to it."
"You... you would get rid of him?" She gasped looking startled. "What would you do?"
"Nothing to harm." came the assured response. "I have another thought that will not harm him and rid you of him for good."
"..." she hesitated before glancing at the boy in her arms then up at the caravan leader. "He won't be harmed?"
"No." was the grave tone. "but you will never see that boy again. Take time in your thoughts."
"...." she paused longer this time, looking deep into the face of the child she had in her arms. Then slowly she looked up at the leader with a sad look. Almost resigned. She slowly offered the child up to the Leader. "If he won't be harmed, do as you will. Leave him with the farmers of the village, or maybe at a doorstep. I came to believe these people are kind. No doubt they'll love him."
"Indeed." The Leader said gravely as he reached down and took the boy, cuddling him close to his own chest. The baby's sobs quieted into sharp sniffles, then silence as the Leader stared quietly at the young boy. Then with a long sad look on his face he bade goodnight to Jessia and left with the child. That night she slept with jolted sleep, waking up and waiting for the dream to end that she'd had a boy and her body wasn't sore from birth. Off and on she slept until dawn.
During her slumber however, the caravan moved on. Silent they gathered their supplies and told the village mayor what was happening, informing him of the woman in the carriage and vaguely the reasons of leaving her. Then, when packed they silently moved away from her and left behind just as the Leader had warned, keeping also the promise she'd never see her boy again. What happened to her afterwards none of them knew but they didn't question the decision of the Leader. They kept their lips quiet and together helped raise the little boy they'd named Jamues.
Now Jamues didn't have parents, he didn't have a mother or father. He had 'them'. The entire caravan he saw as his family, and each one taught him different skills and teachings. He learned carvings from Jik, the carpenter. Voodoo he learned from Hokin, the witch doctor who lurked inside the end wagon filled with holes. Pidge showed him the pipes and Sano taught him to draw. Lastly, the Leader taught him how to look past others differences, to bring together so many outcasts and make it work into a family. Together, these pack of misfits raised Jamues until he was in his teenage years.
As it happened, Jamues or 'Jam Jam' as they nicknamed him, was as free spirited as his mother. Often after cleaning he'd watch the sun go down, always eager to move but too afraid of the unknown to venture out on his own. While he looked at the sunset one dusk, standing beside the mule that dragged his carriage he let out a low sigh that caught the attention of the passing Leader. Recognizing the signs he saw, the Caravan Leader drew him aside the next morning.
Jam Jam was squatting beside a cooking pot, his lips curled down in a frown as he itched his bare chin with confusion. Apparently the stew he was trying to cook wasn't working and his appetite wasn't diminishing on his own. Still, he held patient and tossed in a couple more wild carrots he'd found. This is where the Leader found him, standing above him in a moment of quiet before clearing his throat.
"You wish to leave." he stated as he watched the man below him with a watchful stare. The body remained relaxed as Jamues continued to stir the food he tried to cook. It was a long moment before the boy spoke, his lips barely moving as he let out a dull response.
"I see the sun and wonder where it goes." Jamues answered softly. "I want to see myself what comes and goes, but I will not leave family behind. Perhaps one day I shall go to the towns but not now. Not soon."
"No, you will leave soon." The Leader said gravely. "The woman who birthed you said the same thing not long before she was plagued by ill thoughts and bitter tunes. You will leave us, but it is alright. You are always welcomed within our caravan and we are all still a family."
Jamues went quiet, his hand pausing in the stew. The quiet between the two of them became heavy and long until Jamues stood abruptly and looked across to the Leader with a fierce determination. He stuck his chin high in the air and snorted.
"I will not be like her. I am not leaving." Jamues said firmly as he gave a fierce nod to show his stubbornness. The Leader watched for a moment, slowly looking eye to eye at the boy he'd taken in. Even under the heavy stare Jamues didn't back down. Instead, he repeated in the same heavy tone. "I will not leave."
"Then I will send you out on a journey for me." The Leader stated calmly. "You were taught to draw and now I wish to see the world through you. Go, venture the world and make experiences. I will give you a bag of charcoal and a book of paper to draw within. Tell me the story of the world and of you. Then, you shall not be leaving us alone and we all get to see the world as you shall."
Jamues paused, looking at the older man with hesitation. The same hesitation that his own mother had, unbeknownst to him. Not wanting to get left behind yet wanting to move ahead. Still, the Leader gave a command and like the rest of the caravan he listened.
Within the week he was packed with only the bare necessities, all kept in a bag made of ruined scraps of cloth. Each gave him a gift, a token of remembrance. Jik gave him a small carving knife, Hokin gave him a necklace to ward off evil, Pidge gave him the pipes, and Sano simply gave him drums and a kiss on the cheek. The Leader watched all of this in silence, waiting until they all were done before he gave his gift.
"This bracelet is a reminder and a promise." He said chuckling as he tied the whimsy thing on Jamues's wrist. "A reminder that we are here and you are part of us. The promise is so that as long as you wear this bracelet we will recognize you and accept you within our home once more."
With his gifts and his knowledge, Jamuel set off towards the south on foot.
Had he not been trained by them to survive alone, Jamuel would be dead within the week. Going by day, hide at night, hunt for food even if yours isn't low. Find water, fill bags whenever you get the chance and drink like it's your last chance because you'd never know when the next waterhole was. For two weeks he traveled, never truly realizing how large the world was until he ventured it on his own.
As he wandered Jamuel came to think, the silence being boring and nothing but his own head to speak with. He wondered why the animals acted the way they did, why he had to be born of a wild spirited woman, why had he followed her steps almost? Thoughts and pondering helped the time move faster and before he knew it he found a small village nestled within the grass plains.
Here he drew his first picture. A small woman feeding the chickens while her husband fixed the fences. He didn't ask nor did he speak with the couple. He simply sat on a nearby log stump and sketched her. As he did, however he was noticed by the wife who became curious. Wandering over to the slightly taller man she asked him what he was doing and got the simple response of 'Drawing'. Curious still the woman peered over his shoulder and gasped, praising his artwork and blushing as she scolded him for drawing her working. Unsure why it was a bad thing but not questioning it he simply bowed his head. By the next morning he moved on.
The rest of the towns became a blur save the ones that stuck out. He drew one picture from each town, finding something that suited it best, drew it then moved on. As he grew however, the reactions to him grew more and more nervous. He of course began to notice this as well, changing his behaviors and tones in an attempt to stay friendly with the locals. Most of it worked, sometimes it didn't. It was from this 'switch' that Jamues got into the habit of speaking in third person and often referring himself as 'Jam Jam'.
Still, nothing really prepared him for the night he found a small foggy town by the ocean side. Aged at twenty three he'd arrived at late morning, early afternoon and immediately searched for work and something to draw. Back and forth he walked the town, trying to understand what it meant beneath it's rubbed textures and what to draw to represent its 'soul'. Finding nothing he curled up and fell asleep on the beach side with the song of the seagulls to lull him.
The second day he wandered he came up empty again as did the third and fourth. By the fifth day he wandered, people began muttering about him. They feared this tall giant whose voice was heavy with a foreign accent. They spread rumors of him being a spy, or a killer. They muttered about his loose gait and how his hair was tangled and beard scruffy. It took a fool not to notice the foul treatment that he was given and Jam Jam was no fool. Still, he stayed another night.
The next morning he awoke to find himself face to face with a child.
"Yoawr awful funny lookin'." The boy stated as he sat on his knees beside Jamues, blond hair gone wild from the wind and his blue eyes staring intently at Jam Jam. Nearly five if Jam Jam could guess with a stern pout locked on his face. "Mum says yer a teeth. Is that what you are, sir? A teeth?"
"The word you seek is thief and no, Jam Jam is no thief." came the dull response as he remained laying down. "Jam Jam draws, not steals."
"Draws? Like me when I paint on stuff?" Now the boy frowned so hard his nose crinkled up and his eyes turned into squinted slits. Jamues chuckled earning a puffy cheeks to be added to the picture. He quieted his laughter into a smile as he simply nodded.
"Yes, something of that sort."
"Mum says pictures are pretty but they don't do nothin'. That's why mum won't let me paint her walls."
"Glade?" Jamues blinked as he looked past the child to see a gasping woman and a older boy at her side, both looking shocked as the youngster sat innocently beside the killer from the north. "Glade, come here this instant!"
"Aww, Mum! It'z okay! He's not a teeth, he draws! Like me and paint!"
"Come here!" now the woman was practically screaming. Seeing her distress made Jamues feel guilty, knowing how terrifying he must seem and how terrible it must be to have your family so close to a 'monster'. Looking at the boy he let loose a low rumble.
"Go on then. Your mother calls and Jam Jam needs to get back to finding pictures." Jamues stated firmly as he gave the boy a gentle nudge with his hand. The boy loosed a whiny complaint but obeyed anyways, wandering over to his mother who promptly scolded him fiercely as she ushered him away and into the house. Watching them go, Jam Jam simply brushed it off and wandered the streets again, debating on using Glade for a picture.
He slept the night on it.
The next morning however he was woken to the sound of a scream, a sob as there was some sort of mayhem on the beach. Alarmed Jamues sat upright, looking wildly around to spot the young man from earlier shouting and waving his hands as he ran for the ocean side. Following his eyes sight Jamues saw Glade splashing far from the safety of the beach, nearly covered by the high waves that took the sands. Jamues didn't think. He ran.
He was on his feet and running before he could think straight, smashing into the wavy icy waters with a sharp barking noise as he forced himself deep. He moved as fast as he could yet still the water slowed him into nearly a crawl. He swam but the waves pushed back on him until it was a battle just to keep afloat let alone move forward.
By the time he reached Glade and pulled him close, Jamues knew it was too late. The boy went limp, his eyes closed as his lips lay parted. Still, he heaved him through the surface and struggled back to the beach where an anxious family awaited. Never had he heard a wail like that boy's mother and he hoped he'd never hear it again. Two days later was the funeral for Glade Jaidon, boy at the age of six who died in a frightening and cold place.
Jamues stayed for the funeral, sitting far back as the boy was laid to rest with his sketchbook in hand, drawing the sobbing family over a fresh pile of dirt and a crooked wooden cross. The sun was blocked out by clouds and it sprinkled, forcing him to sit far from them and under a tree in order to stay dry. For once though, nobody bothered to even look twice at the silent giant with the book in his hand. Nobody but the older brother who looked lost beside his mother.
After the funeral Jamues went back to the beach, standing silently on the sands as he looked at the now dreary looking waters. It was as though the waters and earth together mourned the loss of such an innocent boy. Still, despite the sadness that gripped his heart Jamues simply sat and wondered.
"You... you're Jam Jam aren't you?" a low shaky voice made him turn, peering over his shoulder to see the brother standing awkwardly a few feet away. "G-Glade tells me-... told me that before-"
His voice cut off and the young man trembled as he heaved, shoulders slumped as he struggled to speak. He looked lost, confused, and almost lonely. Hidden behind his dreadlocks, Jamues watched the boy struggle with a sinking heart. He spoke in a low chiding tone, his own voice openly showing grief.
"Glade did somethin' that made him die. He took a risk not knowin' the dangers and you nearly did too." Jamues said sadly. "I know that to protect family, you have to give it your all, but if you jumped in that water then your mother would have lost two. Grieving hurts, but grieving for two hurts twice as bad, yeah? Stay strong for your mom and make yer little brother proud."
The town when he left showed him no goodbyes save the older brother who looked grimly determined as he waved the man off. From there, he traveled westwards and headed inland, suddenly sick of seeing the sea for more than a while.
The next event he remembers happened when he reached the age of twenty nine, wandering a large city with his book in hand. Slime and cold, he found it hard to find something accurate enough. It was bustling with lights, and parties. There was booze everywhere he looked and entertainers more then plentiful. Still, he didn't see what he wanted. That night he found himself a small covered alleyway and curled up to sleep beside the ugly stone walls.
Come morning once more, he was awoken to a face. This one however was the face of a thin faced woman, older then him by nearly twenty years with a smokey black skin. Saggy skin and worn out eyes made her look exhausted and suspicious. She stood with a colored dress and raggedy shawl, heavy black eyes, lips curled down as she stared intently at the boy.
"Don't you know not to sleep in the alleys?" she snapped from beneath her huddled shawl. "You'll get mugged or killed the way you doze on like that. I'd been standin' here for a good ten minutes."
"..." Jamues remained silent as he sat up, peering at her with a frown. This apparently did not impress her as she gave him a stern snort and waved him up. Obediently he stood, towering over the little woman with an slump stature.
"Come on then, wake up! What is your name boy? Why are you sleeping in the streets?"
"Jam Jam sleeps because he's got no money for boarding. Besides, Jam Jam is not going to be here long." was the flat response. "What of you, ma'am? Why does you wake Jam Jam when you could walk by?"
"Well, I thought you were dead at first." she answered sourly. "Then I saw your hand twitch and thought I'd get you up before the guards arrest you for sleeping on the streets. So your name is Jam Jam? What kind or ridiculous name is that?"
"Jam Jam's name is not Jam Jam, but it is easier for him to say it then get others to pronounce his name proper." Jamues responded before turning and picking up his things. He glanced at the little old woman and frowned. "You are not of this town. Where are you from?"
"None of your business." Came the sharp retort.
"...Were you a traveler too?" Jamues asked shouldering his bag and peering at he curiously. Immediately the woman tensed, turning to stare hard into his face. She saw no recognition in that covered face but when she saw the bracelet she paused.
"You're... you're a traveler. Where is your caravan?" she asked looking up with a excited stare. "Is it nearby?"
"No." Jamues answered. "Jam Jam was sent by my Leader to see the world."
"I see..." her face fell and her shoulders slumped. "I'd hoped they'd came back for me.... Say, boy. You don't happen to have a bit of time on your hands, would you? It's been a while since I've seen one of my own."
For a moment, he did nothing but stand there. Then, he slowly nodded and with that followed the crooked woman. As they walked, they spoke of people and places that they'd been or seen. Trading tales, experiences, hopes, dreams, and even the stories that would make a proper woman go scarlet. For example, the older woman once went skinny dipping in a city fountain with a lover and nearly got caught by the guards. They had to run stark naked all the way back to their wagons.
The longer Jamues listened, the more his curiosity settled into a soft content. She spoke of how she was a singer who traveled with a caravan north west of here, how she'd taken many lovers in her foolish attempt to find true love, how she was able to dance like the stars and still held the beauty of the wilderness. Then she'd mentioned a boy she'd given birth to and how her caravan had left her behind. The entire time she spoke he remained silent, taking in the information as he tried to understand this woman.
"I wish I hadn't given him up." The woman sighed as they sat on a small bench near the whispering trees and a wide pond. Jam Jam glanced over at her and tilted his head, his relaxed slouch leaned forward as he leaned most of his upper weight on his knees.
"Why did you give up your child?" he asked gently. "Why take it back now?"
"Well... I was foolish. I had thought that maybe if he was gone my old life would come back. I'd be pretty enough all the boys would flock, my body would go back to that tiny waist and round hips, all of it. So, when I was left alone and the baby was gone... Naturally I blamed the boy."
"I'd thought it was his fault." she said gravely. "He took away my family, my home, all of it. I blamed him for it all. Yet, now.... I look back and I can't help but wonder exactly what he's like. If he's tall or short, fat or muscle, happy or lazy. I wish I knew his face at least, how he grew up. I'm sure the Caravan Leader did the right thing taking him from me. I was in no way ready for motherhood."
"Would you like to meet him now? If you could?" Jamues asked curiously. He looked at the older woman with a gentle smile that made her eyes soften and her shoulders slump.
"No." she said sadly. "No, I wouldn't. Not with me looking like this. I'd rather him have whatever happiness he's found rather then finding this old crook for a mother."
"..." Jam Jam looked at her, defeated and worn down by both past and present. She looked trapped and willing to accept with grim odds whatever happened. He saw in her eyes the look of guilt and self disgust. Turning to face her near fully he rumbled lowly. "Why not change then? Be somebody who he'd be proud of. Then, maybe the spirits will guide you together. Have faith, woman-of-the-caravan. I'm sure he will be proud of a mother who loves him still."
He tossed his head a bit, sliding the dreads away so he could peer at her clearly. She met his eye and gasped, her body going rigid. Seeing his soul for what it was, he remained quietly patient while she stared at him in shock. Then, slowly she relaxed as tears began to form in her eyes.
"I see." she whispered hoarsely. "Having faith in the spirits? I suppose... I suppose I'd forgotten of them."
"Do not worry." he rumbled gently as he stood and began to walk away. "I am sure the spirits will lead you to your son. Have faith in them."
That night he drew her in his sketchbook as a symbol for the town.
More towns he wandered around, the more pictures he drew, more people he met. Twice he was tossed in jail, two more times he was beaten up by thugs. Still, battered or worn out he kept moving with the slow and steady patience he was taught as he remained stubborn on his mission.
Now he's passed into the city of Marn, eyes watching the full city as he wanders almost steady amongst the hustle and chaos. Here, he decides to rest a while. The city was large and varied in people and thoughts, so with that in mind he decides to stay until he himself knows what he wishes to draw down. For now he'll travel the city and the sights, gather friends perhaps, and eventually find a picture worth drawing.