Name: Jason Durant
Nickname(s): The Drunken Priest
Gender: Male
Race: Breton-Nord
Age: 56
Birthsign: The Lady
Factions: Ex-Order of Arkay
Class: Priest of Arkay
Class Description: Some of the most pious men of Tamriel, the priests of Arkay are devoted to one of the most familiar yet enigmatic of the Divines. As their god is the overseer of the great cycle of life and death, so too are the priests dedicated to the rituals and mysteries of mortality. The priests are called upon primarily to perform the sacred death rites, yet their realm is also that of life, and as such the priests are skilled in the healing arts.
Skills: Jason learned much from his time with various monks and priests, receiving a holy man’s education in the basics of scripture, healing, and preaching. However, most of the ex-priest’s skills have their roots in his time before taking up the cloth, when he lived first as a successful financier, and then as a drunken vagabond. Through his years in the slums of society, Jason learned several very un-priestly talents, often turning to thievery and pick-pocketing in his poverty. He also retains much of the expertise he gained in his years as a banker, and has an incredible mind for numbers.
Appearance: Though handsome in his youth, Jason has not aged well. A combination of malnourishment, copious amounts of alcohol, and years of foot-travel have wrinkled the Breton beyond his years. He sports a strong chin- a legacy of his Nordic heritage- and wide shoulders, with a round, creased face and frowning lips. His bushy gray eyebrows are turned downwards in a permanent scowl, and his fierce look is completed by a sharp, crooked nose.
Eyes: Often cited as, other than his shrewd business sense, the only thing he received from his father, Jason’s eyes are a dark forest green, and prone to squinting.
Hair: Jason was always proud of his thick blonde hair, inherited from his mother, and when he was still working as a banker would cover it in expensive oils and perfumes. When he became a preacher, however, he shaved his head, the golden locks now a symbol of his vanity. Since being expelled from the priesthood, Jason has let his hair start to grow back, but instead of the golden mane of his youth, his head is now covered in thin, gray tufts of hair, which he usually hides underneath his hood.
Skin/Fur Color: Always naturally pale, not even the hot sun of Sentinel could tan Jason’s skin. He has, however, grown weathered over his years as a travelling priest, wrinkles just beginning to crease his face, spots of age appearing on his thin hands.
Height: Jason inherited his mother’s height, standing over six feet tall in his youth, but has since begun shrinking. He now measures roughly 5’ 10’’, including his slight hunch.
Weight: Always a thin, lanky man, Jason has lost even more weight since losing his priestly status. Though not as gaunt as he was as a beggar, the old preacher remains rather bony, despite a slightly bulging beer belly. If asked, he would say he was roughly one hundred and forty pounds, though the number may be slightly higher.
Tattoo/Scars/Piercings: Jason, like many priests, has the knotted rope of Arkay tattooed on the backs of both his hands, a white knot on his right and a black one on his left. Though it has faded over time, and is wrinkled nearly beyond recognition, he still maintains the tradition of using his right hand for healing and his left for funeral-rites. Other than that, Jason has several scars from his time as a beggar- the guards were often less than forgiving when they caught him stealing- including a crooked nose, never set correctly after it was broken on a guard’s boot.
Personality: Bitter from years of hard living, Jason is hardly personable for a preacher. Though kind at heart, he addresses the world with sarcastic quips and sharp stares. He will heal anyone, for a price, but he will mutter under his breath the whole way through, complaining of “whatever idiocy led them to this situation”. He only laughs when drunk, and rarely preaches sober, though when he does he quickly has the attention of the whole room. Vastly intelligent, Jason puts his wits mostly to selfish uses, tricking people out of gold or liquor, though usually not without a priestly bit of advice.
Goals: Since being expelled from the priesthood, Jason has travelled far and wide preaching his own brand of sermons, trying to open the eyes of the common folk to the follies of the church. When not engaging in propaganda, his mind is usually focused on his next meal and bed, though his next drink is usually up there as well.
Fears: Open water, especially rivers, have always frightened Jason, since his near-death experience as a boy. Other than that, Jason has grown accustomed to life’s hardships, and is perfectly comfortable camping alone in the wilderness. He is always on the lookout for orthodox priests, who seem to have a warrant for his arrest, but goes to no great lengths to avoid cities. He also harbors fears of what will happen to him when he grows too old to travel, when he must finally give up his nomadic lifestyle and become, more likely than not, the crazed hermit parents warn their children about. Not to say parents don’t warn their children of him already.
Virtues: Despite his alcoholism and lustful nature, Jason does have several redeeming features. He has not stolen since his time in Sentinel, a fact he is most proud of, and he has healed hundreds of the sick and wounded over the years. His sermons, while usually drunken ravings against the priesthood, sometimes bring true insight into people’s lives, especially when he speaks to criminals and beggars, whom he has never ceased to empathize with.
Vices: Though he gave up drinking when he became a priest, he has since then taken up the habit again, though not as nearly as strongly as in his youth. Other than that he has grown fond of gambling, and has a sharp eye for pretty young women.
Hobbies: Drinking, primarily, though he enjoys the occasional preaching as well. More often than not Jason combines the two. When unable to find open bottles or open minds on the road, the preacher sings hymns to himself, or speaks to nearby animals. Once he makes camp, Jason enjoys whittling, or gathering alchemical ingredients from the brush.
Religion: Though he is thoroughly devoted to the Nine Divines, Jason has grown skeptical of the men who claim inspiration from them. Jason has never forgiven the priests for casting him out of the Order of Arkay, and has since then developed several radical ideas about the way a man should devote himself to the gods, most of which encompass the priestly vow of celibacy and sobriety.
Clothing and Armor: Though no longer a priest, Jason still wears his threadbare brown robes, mostly because it has earned him many free meals. Though his ring was taken by the priests upon his expulsion from the Order, he has fashioned himself a necklace bearing the knotted circle of Arkay.
Weapons: Jason, as a holy man, carries no weapons, save for his wit and a quick preacher’s tongue.
Inventory: The ex-preacher carries nothing with him in his journeys save what he can haul on his back. Beyond his robes and his knotted necklace, he carries with him a sturdy walking stick, what few Septims he can manage to collect for his sermons, and a poorly crafted flask that he keeps at his belt. When he can, he carries a few basic medicinal herbs and salves; he is often valued more for his healing than his homilies. When on the road, he also carries his trust pocketknife and tinderbox, two things no self respecting vagabond would be caught without.
Magic: A proficient healer, Jason is skilled in the art of Restoration, and can treat most everything from festering wounds to wracking coughs. He has also learned several spells of Alteration and Illusion as well, the former to help him to better protect and heal, the latter to better persuade his congregation.
History: Jason Durant’s earliest memory is not of his Nordic mother or his childhood home in Gauvadon. The first thing Jason can recall of his childhood is water: freezing cold, rushing over his head, dashing him against unforgiving rocks. The water sent him tumbling further down the river, sputtering for breath, certain his young life would soon be over. He remembers his father, a small, rat faced banker, shouting on the bank for someone to save his son. And then blackness.
The blurry figure kneeling over Jason when he awakens is too large to be his father, too square of jaw to be his mother. The man turned him over, coughing, reassuring him in a deep, comforting voice. The man’s name Jason has lost to the years, but the amulet he wore burned itself deep into his memory: the black and white knot of Arkay.
The priest saved Jason’s life, refused his father’s offers of payment, and left his home as soon as he recovered from the fit of sickness that followed. The young Breton never even managed to thank the man; he left in Jason’s sleep. However, after that day, Jason visited every temple in every city he visited, searching for the priest, but never found him. Some nights, when the river would revisit him in his dreams, the priest was Arkay himself.
After Jason’s near death experience, his father insisted that he stay at home as much as possible. His mother tried to convince the Breton to let Jason go out and play with his few friends, but to no avail. The blonde woman would tower over the banker during their arguments, but it was always Jason’s father who got his way. As such, Jason stayed at home and studied, taught numbers by his father and letters by his mother, until he was well into his teenage years. His father got him a job as a secretary at the largest bank in Wayrest, and the pale, teenage Jason spent years there handling the gold of the wealthiest men in High Rock.
By day Jason would dutifully copy transactions in the ledgers of his bank, but by night he and several fellow employees, all just out of their teenage years, would prowl the underside of the city, drinking and whoring their purses empty, then wake up the next morning and return to the bank. Jason lived like this for years, his intelligence and sly tongue letting him slowly climb the ranks of finance, and his budding habits of carousing growing into depravity and alcoholism. Eventually he stopped writing home to his parents, stopped visiting the chapels of Zenithar and Arkay, and increasingly lived his life beneath the red lanterns of Wayrest.
Until, that is, he stumbled into work drunk one morning and miscopied thousands of Septims worth of withdrawals. Once his employer discovered Jason’s erroneous error, he quickly confronted the Breton, whom he had once thought one of the most promising financiers in Wayrest. The old banker tried to turn Jason away from his self-destructive habits, but all he got from the Breton were slurred curses. Jason was dismissed from the bank that day.
Out of work and in serious debt from his late night escapades, Jason was quickly evicted from his home within the city. His former friends turned Jason away at their doors, calling him a foolish drunk, and in short order the ex-banker joined the beggars he had scoffed at a mere week before. Unwilling to let his former friends and clients see him turned out on the street, Jason left the city, stowing away on a ship bound for Sentinel.
In the capital of the Redguards, Jason found little respite from his poverty. Sentinel held as many beggars as Wayrest had, with a far more callous populace, and many nights Jason slept with his stomach crying out for food. What money he did beg went more often towards drink than food, the Breton’s alcoholism undiminished even as a pauper. Jason, like many other beggars, quickly turned to thievery, and spent many nights in and out of Sentinel’s jail. The Breton, now approaching his middle years, lived in a haze of hunger and drunkenness, and always under the crushing weight of depression and regret.
What finally saved the banker-turned-beggar was what Jason has considered his worst sin yet: stealing from the great Order of Arkay. Though he knew stealing from the church was punishable by death, Jason’s hunger had grown mind numbing, and he had been without cheap booze for days. After banishing the crying face of his mother from his mind, Jason snuck into Sentinel’s church, hoping to find food and wine within, unguarded. When an elderly priest caught him rummaging through the church’s pantry, Jason nearly attacked the holy man, fearing the priest would sound an alarm. When the wrinkled preacher merely bowed his head and bid Jason take what he needed, the Breton broke down in tears, begging forgiveness from the priest.
The priest told Jason he could stay inside the chapel that night, and brought him plate after plate of food, all the while asking Jason about his life. Through tears and mouthfuls of food, Jason confessed his story to the priest, who listened silently. At the end of Jason’s tale, the priest took the Breton’s hand, and with a twinkling eye told him that the Divines forgave him of his sins.
In the weeks that followed, Jason devoted his life to the gods, having decided to become a priest of Arkay. The old priest, whom Jason suspected some days to be the same man who saved him from the river, taught him everything from scripture to healing.
(Lived as priest for a while, eventually set off for Cyrodiil, converting beggars and thieves in his travels, until he reached Cheydinhal, where he became a priest there. However, he soon began to question some of the prohibitions the Cyrodiilic church put on their preachers, such as celibacy, and became disliked for his outspoken opinions. His arguments came to a head when he slept with a widower after healing her daughter’s sickness; the woman came to the church looking for Jason after he left her. Forced to leave the church and stripped of title and ring, he then became a wandering hermit, taking his habits of drinking back up as he made makeshift sermons to villages and taverns, oftentimes drunk. He was making one such sermon in Bravil when he noticed several odd customers. After asking what they were doing, he decided to accompany them, as much because he had nothing better to do than anything, though he does like the look of some of the young women)
Motive for Joining: Jason happened to be in the tavern at the time, he had no idea a group of adventurers would be congregating there. Once he learns of their quest, however, he decides it’s as good a place to go as any; he never has seen the realm of a Daedric prince, after all, and what else does he have to live for? Besides, a few of the young ladies seem rather… Preachable.
Fun Fact: Jason once drunkenly talked his way out of a month long jail sentence, getting the entire guardhouse down on their knees and praying while he slipped out the nearest window.
» Tue Jan 11, 2011 3:31 am 
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I like his story, your character is not uber (quite the contrary in fact, he has a lot of limitations), which I am sure will be great fun to RP for you. Your writing seems cool too, don't worry about anything! 
Although I am by no means an expert.
