Diary of a Foreigner; Jacques training.

[Josephus]

Chapter Index

[Josephus]

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Jacques

Age: 32

Height: 6 feet or 1.85 meters

Weight: 190 lbs. or 86 kg

Hair: Brown, but is visibly turning grey due to stress.

Eyes: Brown, but wears sunglasses almost 24/7. Rarely is his true eye color ever seen.

Element: Mokuton.

Ethnicity: Westerner

Jacques was born in a western country. His father had been a wealthy merchant that made his fortune from traveling to eastern countries and bringing back those goods to his home country, selling the exotic valuables he was able to make quite a profit and was able to raise a family that could afford many comforts a most members of the bourgeoisie could only dream of. When Jacques had finally become an adult, he joined his father in one of his journeys to the east. Disaster struck and the caravan was attacked by a group of rouge shinobi. The caravan had been destroyed leaving only Jacques alive. Vowing revenge, Jacques tracked the shinobi that had attacked his caravan. Eventually Jacques caught up to the gang and murdered them in the dead of while they were asleep. Things did not go as smoothly as planned however and Jacques was forced to do battle with one of their guards. Jacques somehow managed to win but was brutally injured in the process. It also seemed that Jacques’ blood mixed with the shinobi giving him somewhat control of the mokuton bloodline. Jacques now wanders the east world as a mercenary for hire, similar to a missing nin.

Personality:

Jacques does not speak often, and will never speak of his past, or his abilities. He is calm and calculating almost to the point of being meticulous. He has lived well over ten years in a land where he is not welcomed, making him careful to the point of borderline paranoia. However his experience is great and it is rare he will make a mistake.


Inventory:

Gauntlet (heirloom)
This Gauntlet is the only thing Jacques was able to salvage from the caravan. It is of quality workmanship from one of the western countries. Jacques uses it as a shield to protect his vital areas from enemy attacks.

Bo Staff

This serves as Jacques weapon. He managed to learn and create his own style after years of fighting brawlers, shinobi, and wild animals. He wields the staff with a quick efficiency using its length to keep his opponent at bay until he finds an opening in their defenses, at which he will attack relentlessly, until his foe is either incapacitated, or dead.

Jutsus: (Note due to Jacques not being a shinobi and only having a foreign bloodline he almost never uses jutsu and the only jutsus he will ever be able to use come from the Kikyousei clan, with the Great Oak as his favored tree.)

Uddo Hei: Summons a hard wooden wall made from massive branches from his favored tree. Being dense and contracted, they can form a good protection against a lot of attacks.

Karamu Kongen: Summons roots from his favored tree. With these he can have a grip on something or someone to prevent it from moving. The height the roots can reach depends on the skill level.

Money: $0

[Josephus]

Prologue

Hello Stranger,

If your reading this, then it is very likely that I have died, for I will never let this leave my possession or be read by another human while I am still of this world. Within the pages of this diary lies my story. It is not a pleasant story, and certainly not one meant for those who wish not to have their perfect world shattered by the terrible truths within this book.

My name is Jacques. That is all. I have long since forgotten my surname and most of my memory of my life before I came to this accursed country. It does not matter however, even if I remembered my surname no one here would bother to grace me with the decency to use it. Few bother to call my Jacques now. I am more commonly called a Barbarian, Egg, Frog, Ghost, Devil, Albino, and others. I am a westerner, and therefore receive racism like no other I have ever met before.

I am writing this diary, to keep me sane. I must write down what happens to me to prevent from turning into what the people here call me. It also helps me remember what I used to be like, before this country changed me. So within here are the reasons why I am now a mercenary, doing jobs no local would bother with.

If you wish to continue and learn of my tale, please read on. Otherwise close the book now and toss it aside and run away, run far away to your family, and let them tell you that it is all lies and the world really is a perfect place, where man does not harm or judge his fellow man,

This is my story.

[Josephus]

The Last Memory
The best place to start, or atleast the best place I can think of is here. This is my last remaining memory of life before I accompanied my father here. It is all i have left of the old ways.

”It should have been me.”

*It was the one thought running through Jacques head. Nothing else had mattered, all that mattered was that Jacques was wronged, cheated out of what he rightfully deserved. The respect of becoming a Knight. The honor that he would have brought to his family.*

”It should have been me.”

*The scene was replaying through Jacques mind again. More and more clearly each time it replayed in his head, fueling the rage building within him. He could see it clearly now, yes much more clearly then when it had actually happened.*

------------------FLASHBACK-------

*The two combatants were in the middle of the sand arena, an arena that resembeled a sumo stage. It was a circle of about 10 meters in diameter made of sand. Each combatant held a different weapon made of wood, obviously training weapons. It was obvious both combatants were in training, but nearing the end of it. An aura of confidence reeked from each combatant, confidence that could only be achieved with years of training in the various forms of combat.*

*The first to make a move was the combatant with a long staff. The staff was an unusual weapon for a squire, for those favoring ranged weapons preferred the lance or spear. However looking at the complex pattern in which he was twirling the staff one could not doubt that the staff was still a deadly weapon, spinning the staff using its full reach to force his opponent far away from its reach. His opponent was unfazed. Moving back half a step out of the staff reach a mere moment before it would have connected with his abdomen, keeping a passive expression on his face.*

*This combatant was equipped with a much more traditional weapon for a squire. A wooden flamberge was strapped to his back. He moved instantly stepping within the the pattern at the exact time necessary to dodge the attack and bring himself closer to his opponent. With the distance between him and his opponent significantly smaller, the staff’s effectiveness dropped to almost zero. The flamberge was unsheathed and striking downward within an instant. It was all Jacques could do to sidestep the attack in mid attack pattern. Jacques instantaneously switched to a defensive stance and went into a passive form of attack. The flamberge came in from all angles, the staff intercepting the blows mere inches from striking bare flesh.*

*The two continued this dance for almost two minutes each combatant constantly switching from offense to defense. It was a masterful display that showed an abnormal amount of thought and skill for mere squires. Then suddenly abruptly and unnecessarily the match was called by the duke.*

*Yes the duke, the first foreign duke in almost a hundred years, given the land by the king for his mercenary services during the last war. He preferred to be called lord though, for that is what he was within his estate. Lord Houka.*

Lord Houka: “ The Match is over, Javier is the winner.”

*Just like that the battle was over, even though Jacques could still feel the heat and rage of battle within him. He would not have lost! He could feel it; he was putting forth emotion, while Javier was cold. Javier could not have beaten him, not in this state. Still the match had been called. Javier would become a knight, Jacques would not. Javier swiftly left the arena leaving Jacques to stand there. The sole person in the room aside from Lord Houka, who was watching Jacques intently.*

------------------End Flashback-----------------

”It should have been me!’

*Jacques was stalk still in the arena, refusing to budge. He had failed. His family was only part of the bourgeoisie. While Javier was a noble. Even if Jacques had won, Javier would have been able to become a knight. Jacques could not. A member of the bourgeoisie was doomed to stay there or sink into the proletariat, never allowed to rise, unless through knighthood, which in itself was an extremely rare case.*

*Unable to contain his rage and longer Jacques picked up his staff. It was a smooth elder staff, well made and at least 7 feet long. It was well crafted, and battle worn, even for being a practice weapon. It was certain capable of taking a life. Jacques raised the staff above his head, and brought it crashing down, his knee coming up to meet its descent.*

SFX: CRUNCH

*With a sicken crunch that sounded more like bones shattering, then wood splintering, the staff was broken in two. Taking half of the staff in each hand Jacques began twirling the pieces. It was a complex pattern that no one had ever seen before, but Jacques was performing it tirelessly, his rage fueling his skill, increasing his already impressive mastery of the weapon. Soon the movements became indistinguishable and Jacques no longer could be seen as a human, but as a hurricane. The staffs moving so fast around his body they seemed to create a vortex. Spinning within bringing destruction and pain.*

*Indeed it was a vortex. Lord Houka could clearly see that. A large amount of energy was being released by the squire. Back home they would call it chakra, but such a word was foreign and strange here. The spinning vortex that was Jacques was pulling everything inwards. The sand on the arena being kicked up and scattered about. It took Lord Houka an effort just to stay put for he could feel the vortex try to drag him towards the squire.*

*The Impressive display stopped almost as quickly as it had started. Jacques was left standing in the same spot panting. His energy and rage had been expelled from his body, spent from the battle routine. He causally glanced around and noticed that the room was in disarray, the arena especially. The land had fallen back to the ground, but it was astounding. The sand had fallen back in a pattern. It was an intricate pattern similar to a spider’s web, but infinitely more complex. Winding, twisting and turning all with Jacques in the heart of it. Lord Houka took one look at the pattern, before turning around and leaving the room. A hint of a smile on his face.*

”It should have been me.”

[Josephus]

Fade Away
Here is how it all began, my tragic fall into the person I am now, if anyone in this forsaken country. It all began after I was forced to retire from being a knight in training and was destined to join my father in his merchant trips to the far eastern lands.

*It was a clear and sunny day, which was strange considering it was nearing the end of November. Back at home it would have been storming with so much snow flying around it would take an effort to see your hand in front of your face. However Jacques was not home. He was a guard for his father’s merchant caravan venturing deep into the east.*

*It was not strange for merchant caravans to travel from east to west. A blending of cultures and rare and exotic goods were derived from it causing each side to prosper and strong alliances to form between the two countries. What was strange however the small amount of guards protecting this merchant caravan. Jacques had counted five knights accompanying this caravan, which was about half the normal number of guards. Jacques would have preferred more protection, but money was tight, and this journey was supposed to help bring in some much needed income for his family.*

*Jacques was the only non knight serving as a guard; therefore he was the only one without true heavy armor. This was a far cry from proving Jacques to be incapable. Jacques had been trained as squire ever since he was a young lad. He had been trained well and was, at least in his mind, still more capable than many of the other knights whom had been hired by his father. However Jacques had not been allowed to advance into knighthood, The Duke, Lord Houka, had dismissed him during a practice battle with Javier, who was another squire in training. After that Jacques had fallen from grace, and was destined to serve no more then a simple guard for his father.*

Francis: “Quiet today isn’t it? Good thing to, I don’t like mingling with these people, but I’m sure they hate mingling with me to Eh?”

Jacques: “Indeed. It is good to have a peaceful journey.”

*Few truer words have ever been spoken in Jacques’s life. While the two countries did trade often, racism was ripe. There were many hate groups within Jacques own country, and he was sure there were hate groups within these lands. Luckily his father was on good terms with what the easterners call a “Hokage” and he had invited the caravan to stop in his town to trade goods and swap cultires.*

Jacques: “Have you ever heard of a ‘Hokage’ before?”

Francis: “I can’t say I have, tis a strange word, but a strange language for a strange world I suppose. I have heard that Lord Houka once knew of a ‘Raikage’ but a ‘Hokage’ is a new and strange thing to me.”

Jacques: “Indeed.”

*The caravan continued on for several more hours. This was the third week in their journey and it was bound to be over soon. They were surprisingly making excellent time, and that was probably due to the fact that they hadn’t been attacked yet, whether it be from mere robbers or animals. The group was lucky. Jacques had fallen asleep in the sadly of his horse, trusting Francis to keep him on the path and alert him if the caravan needed protecting.*

SFX: Snap

*The sound of a twig snapping made Jacques jump with a start. He looked around quickly but only saw the trees of the forest around. Francis seemed not to notice the noise.*

Jacques: “Did ya hear that?”

Francis: “Tis most likely a squirrel. I wouldn’t worry about it, glad to see your awake sleeping beauty.”

*Jacques let the comment slide; it was all in good fun. Shaking his head he continued on his way, more wary of his surroundings this time, just in case.*

Francis: “Over protective whelp, there’s nothing out…”

*Francis never finished his sentence. As I turned around suddenly to see what happened I saw a huge bloody dagger sticking out of his forehead. Instinctively I reached for my staff, but before I could even react to the situation, let alone comprehend it, I felt a sharp sting in my neck. I fell off my horse with a sharp thump, world fading to blackness, the cries of the other knights and the caravan in chaos muffled. The last thing I could hear before I was completely out of it was my father’s cries.*

Raphael: “My son! My son!”