| Cranky Old Bastard | |
| |
| IC Information | |
| Full Name: | Jack Salem |
|---|---|
| Deed Name: | Scar |
| Gender: | Male |
| Age: | Early 70s |
| Breed: | Homid |
| Tribe: | Glass Walkers |
| Auspice: | Philodox |
| Rank: | Adren (3) |
| Sept Position: | Tribal Beta, Pack Alpha |
| Pack: | Sagacity |
| Height: | 6'3" |
| Hair: | White |
| Eyes: | Brown/White |
| Nature: | Survivor |
| OOC Information | |
| Quote: | "<Angry Serbian cussing.>" |
| Status: | Active |
| Player: | Hazmat |
Formerly Known As
Grey One, Thomas Grey, Dark One, el Diablo, Thunder's Wrath, Rade Andreas Popovic
Past Packs
The Crew, Havoc, Synthesis, unnamed Shadow Lord pack pre-MUSH.
General Info
Jack Salem has been a member of the Sept for about a decade and a half, and to say that he has a checkered past is something of an understatement. The rumor is that he used to be a Ronin and an Ahroun, and though he's with the Glass Walkers now, his Shadow Lord heritage is painfully obvious to any Garou who looks at him. He's been Satired at least once in his life (though it happened away from St. Claire), and once was punished under Voice Of The Jackal. He is a known Charach, though that news is now very many years old and the Judgement for it happened at another Sept.
He is well-known to be a hellishly effective fighter whose frenzies can be fatal; more than one Garou has died when Salem is under the grip of his Rage.
He is unapologetically urrah, though for a Glass Walker sometimes seems more interested in old technology than new. He almost single-handedly turned an abandoned five-story wreck into a liveable space which is currently used by the Glass Walkers and other members of the Sept. He's been a repo man in the past and seems to have a knack for maintaining and repairing old cars. He's been knocking around St. Claire a good long time and knows it better than most. Also, his knowledge of Sept history is profound.
Perhaps the most unusual thing about him is his age. Born in 1973, Salem was in his late thirties until only a few years ago, when a month's disappearance caused him to age another thirty years or so (as well as gain a massive collection of new battlescars). Only a few people, those very close to him, have an inkling as to what happened to him; he's not been forthcoming about the experience. Since coming back, Salem spends most of his time in the city's slums, among the homeless, who know him as "Jack", "Scar", or "that scary 'Nam vet". He also spends a good deal of time prowling about Harbor Park.
Although The Crew has disbanded, Salem keeps up a good relationship with Nine-Lives, the rat-spirit who acted as the pack's totem, and still venerates Rat and Rat's kin.
At the February 2012 Moot, Salem announced that he was forming a new city pack, possibly under Chimera, and then later challenged Owen for Master of the Challenge. After a rather heated exchange, Owen relinquished the position.
In May 2012, along with Whisper and Wrong Way, he successfully Quested for the totem Chimera, forming the pack Sagacity with himself as Alpha. The pack has no official territory, though Salem himself can often be found around the wharf, the city's southwest slums, Harbor Park, and of course the Glass Walker tenement. He patrols these areas often, usually in the Umbra.
He has been tribal Beta to Mouse's Alpha for many years and as such is usually tapped to act as elder when Mouse is away.
In January 2013, during a moonbridge scouting (preliminary to removing the wasp entities from the caern), Salem and several other Garou frenzied, and while in the grips of Thrall, Salem killed Flint Madden, his tribemate. Salem stepped down as Master of the Challenge the next day and, for a time, moved back into his old basement apartment at the Walker safehouse. He lives there still, though maintains a number of other hidden "bolt holes" around the city. Paranoid? Maybe.
He was a significant participant in the rebuilding of the Hidden Walk's caern and has the teardrop-scars to prove it.
He participated in the Great Hunt of 2014, the first time he'd done so in years (usually preferring to remain behind to guard the Bawn while the majority of the Sept's warriors are away); during this, he survived a fight with a high-ranked Black Spiral Dancer with silver claws, handling her mostly by himself and landing the killing blow.
Mostly, though, the work that Salem does for Gaia goes under the radar.
General Demeanor
Salem tends to come across as surly, aloof, cynical, or world-weary, though he's usually polite when not riled (and sometimes even then). He has a dry sense of humor and is the kind of man more apt to chuckle than laugh aloud. He doesn't open himself up often, and then typically only to packmates or close friends; few are allowed past the man's considerable emotional armor.
He can also hold his liquor like few other members of the Sept (and without the use of cheater Fianna Gifts like Resist Toxin).
Appearance
Homid
Jack Salem, around seventy years old, looks as though he's served a long-term tour of duty in hell. His white hair hangs shaggily around his ears, and his hawkish face is half-hidden under a full white beard. He was probably handsome once upon a time, but the fine aristocratic features are marred by the detritus of old wounds. Thick keloid rips down the left side of his face (his eye on that side is milky white, obviously blind), while another line runs crookedly across the bridge of his aquiline nose. There are pockmarks from old shrapnel wounds as well, and half of his right ear has been torn off at some point. His eyes (the good one's dark brown) are deep-set under thick black eyebrows, but despite the lines and sleepless bruising around them, the stare from the good one is as sharp and predatory as it ever was. At six-foot-three, Salem stands taller than many men; he is leanly muscled, with not a spare ounce of flesh on him. He limps when he walks, favoring his right leg, and his left hand is missing its smallest finger and half of its ring finger. Despite this, he appears neither infirm nor weak. There is, in fact, an aura of tightly-controlled violence about him that is enough to make most mortals blench. The black-on-black clothing has again been retired in favor of 'homeless Nam vet' couture -- faded blue jeans, stained t-shirt, grey hooded sweatshirt, olive-drab army coat, and scuffed black combat boots, all of it worn-down and ragged in places. The rank odor of cheap cigarettes lingers around him; his clothes especially reek of it. A trio of teardrop-shaped scars are just noticeable on the right side of his neck, just under the jawline.
Crinos
This aged beast of war stands well over nine feet tall and is covered with scars. His pelt, what there is of it, is mostly a grizzled grey color with a thick scattering of white around his muzzle, eyes, and ears. A large portion of it is missing, replaced by the badges of old wounds -- thick keloid, hairless patches of poorly-healed burns, pockmarks of old shrapnel wounds, and places where the fur just grows oddly due to otherwise unseen scar tissue. Half of his right ear has been torn off at some point, and his left hand is missing its smallest finger and half of its ring finger. His right eye is wolfishly gold; the other is a milky white within a tangle of thick scars down that side of his lupine face. Another scar runs crookedly across his muzzle, and his bushy tail bends in the middle the way it probably shouldn't. He limps when he walks, favoring his right leg, and his body is very lean, without a spare ounce of flesh. Despite all of this, he appears neither infirm nor weak. There is, in fact, an aura of tightly-controlled violence about him; his dark claws are as sharp as ever, as is the glare in his good eye. A trio of teardrop-shaped scars are just noticeable on the right side of his neck, just under the jawline.
Lupus
Aged yet still vital, this old male wolf looks as though he's survived more than a few wars. His pelt, what there is of it, is mostly a grizzled grey color with a thick scattering of white around his muzzle, his eyes, and his ears. A large portion of it is missing, replaced by the badges of old wounds -- thick keloid, hairless patches of poorly-healed burns, pockmarks of old shrapnel wounds, and places where the fur just grows oddly due to otherwise unseen scar tissue. Half of his right ear has been torn off at some point, and his left forepaw is missing one and a half of its toes. His right eye is wolfishly gold; the other is a milky white within a tangle of thick scars down that side of his lupine face. Another scar runs crookedly across his muzzle, and his bushy tail bends in the middle the way it probably shouldn't. He limps when he walks, favoring his right hind leg, and his body is very lean, without a spare ounce of flesh. Despite all of this, he appears neither infirm nor weak. There is, in fact, an aura of tightly-controlled violence about him; his long fangs are as sharp as ever, as is the glare in his good eye. A trio of teardrop-shaped scars are just noticeable on the right side of his neck, just under the jawline.
Rank Info
- Arrived in St Claire a Cliath.
- Successfully challenged Susan Tempered-Blade for Fostern in 2003.
- Satired for Charach at Hundred Stars Sept in 2005.
- Successfully challenged Camille for Fostern in 2011.
- Promoted to Adren in late 2011 during winter solstice event that increased the power of many other Garou worldwide.
Gifts
Rank 1: City Running, Control Simple Machine, Cooking, Persuasion, Resist Pain, Scent of the True Form, Skyscraper Vision, Smell of Man, Truth of Gaia
Rank 2: Cybersenses, Strength of Purpose
Rank 3: Sense Balance, Weak Arm, Calm the Savage Beast
Rites
Level 0: Swarm Song
Level 1: Rite of Cleansing, Rite Of Talisman Dedication, Rite of Wounding, Rite of the Questing Stone
Level 2: Rite Of Renunciation, Rite Of Passage, Voice Of The Jackal
Level 3: Satire Rite
| Preceded by: Owen |
Master of the Challenge 2012-2013 |
Succeeded by:<br./>Emma Mahler |