The cranky, alcoholic father of Ilta.
Was once know as Vindicator Jesahel, Blademaster of the Aldor.
Nowadays, just tends to go by Jesa or Jessie and grunt in response.
Physical Traits Edit
Even for a male draenei, Jesahel is large and bulky, taller than most of his kind, and especially wider. Despite this, as many have learned to their dismay, he moves with surprising agility and speed, and knows how to strike true with nearly any weapon. Or at the very least, he used to. Since the last desperate days on Draenor, the lost battle for his homeland, and the subsequent crash introduction to Azeroth, something's been very much wrong with the old weapon trainer. After waking up pained and disoriented in Ammen Vale, he's spent more time in his cups than with his blades, and it's starting to take its toll.
Jesahel has white skin reminiscent of gypsum, and riddled with scars old and new, as well as the telltale lines of a man in the autumn days of his life. His hair is a dirty blonde, kept in braids, and his horns, as well as the single tentacle on his chin, are delicate for a man so large. His face seems to be set in a glum, unfriendly expression that he probably couldn't wipe off even if he wanted to.
His Common is surprisingly good and colourful, and his vocabulary is close to that of a native. His accent points towards Theramore or Kul Tiras. If asked, it's something about a persistent, excitable Anchorite with a revolutionary new invention. That's as much as he cared to listen.
Race and Class Edit
A Perfect Circle, OOC raid guild. IC, none.
Lowest rate mercenary.
Back on Draenor, Jesahel had a wife and three beautiful daughters... That's as far as he'll get before grimacing and downing another drink.
Born on Argus at the height of the Eredar civilisation, he was a child when the race was split, and can't remember his parents at all, unless it is in nightmares. They chose to follow Sargeras; he, though, was snatched along by a long-term family friend who sided with Velen, dragged, as he was later told, kicking and screaming into life as an exile. Eventually, he came to accept his fate, and truly became part of his new family, spending a relatively happy, peaceful childhood on draenor. He had a natural talent for handling weapons, as well as the more rarefied talent for command, and these two together ensured he'd grow up to be a soldier, at first a protector of the community, then a true warrior, as Kil'Jaeden's manipulations reached the new homeworld.
He came to be respected for his skills, and rose through ranks, until he settled at the position of teacher, training new young soldiers in the arts of war. He also eventually married, a woman who he could have torn out his own heart for, and ended up doing nearly everything short of that. Avalae was as hard to get as they come, and as demanding and high-maintenance as a spouse can be. His devotion to her was absolute, and she made the best use of it. It took a while for him to catch on, but eventually he did, of course; but by then they had three daughters, each lovely, and each meaning the world to their father. He couldn't leave.
Until mere weeks before the second exile, tempers stoked by war came to fly a little too high, and as a culmination of yet another fight, he hit his wife. That's when she told him none of his daughters were his. Weeks after that, Draenor was lost, two of the girls dead and the third one missing, and Jesahel was a broken man. To add insult to injury, Avalae survived the crash of the Exodar.
Criminal Record Edit
None survive from Draenor, though he was an exemplary citizen back then. After settling on Azeroth, he has spent a score of nights in the brig because of barfights, and sometimes just because he's been too drunk to drag himself anywhere else.