Character Writeup – Jace

Jace McCray – Born 1988, near Oak Hill, West Virginia

6’1” Caucasian, light grey eyes. Presbyterian. (Not really practicing.)

Description:

Jace is tall and lean, with an athletic build. His skin is fair, hair a dark blonde to brown and kept short, eyes a pale grey. He’s generally clean-shaven though at times that he’s not, he’ll have a goatee.  On his right arm is a large but old burn scar, and on his shoulder down his arm, faded and thin blue-black ink is a detailed depiction of a thistle.

Jace carries an air of pent-up energy that could unleash itself at any given time, and he seems to like to keep moving.

History:

Jace grew up in what was little more than an elaborate trailer, perched on the edge of a cliff near a dirt road in West Virginia. He lived with his mother and father, some older siblings, and a few other relatives who came and went, and there was never much money, sometimes things were broke and for a while, he ate a lot of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. An active and physical boy, Jace found friends in the area although he had to ride his bike up and down steep dirt roads to get there, and went to school. Sometimes, he got to hear his grandfather tell stories about the old days, of making moonshine, of odd things in the woods and mines, of other such things. Jace never knew if these stories were real or not.

Things got both a little better and a little worse one summer, when food and clothes and things were more plentiful and there was a new television, but the house was more tense. There was some business out back in the shed near the end of the property which Jace was not supposed to know about, but he did anyway. It smelled odd, and there was people-traffic at odd hours. He was told by his mother to keep away from all that. The one time he went to investigate – a lab that had jars and jugs and bottles and pipes and things – resulted in a terrible burn along one arm and an even worse drive down the mountain to emergency. He was told not to say anything while his mother lied profusely about what happened. He still has the scar from the burn.

Life went on for Jace. He had friends at school, worked occasional odd jobs though finding anything steady was rough. While he didn’t entirely enter into his dad’s business deliberately, there were easier (if riskier) ways to make money. He liked to think he didn’t abuse drugs himself, though he hit the alcohol and cigarettes young.  No, he just generally got them from one place to another. School was secondary, and he dropped out barely after entering high school.  He was picked up a few times by the police but they couldn’t do much –he typically wasn’t a violent troublemaker.

Then there were a couple people new to town and they paid him well to get them more clients and deliver things. He wasn’t sure just quite what the drugs were – something new, he supposed. He couldn’t bring himself to try it himself, because the people were ..off, somehow, in a way he couldn’t explain. The whole thing made him edgy, but the money was good.

Years later Jace would tell himself he should have listened to his gut and not the cash. Because one night when he was supposed to make a delivery, things felt especially off.. and he just couldn’t put a finger on it. But, he wanted the money, he had a new girl and wanted to impress.. he shoved the flashing warning lights to the back of his mind.  His contact was someone different and this made him more edgy, and he was sent on his way.

And Jace would have years to think about what he should have done different, when he should have backed off.. the moment that police shouted to get on the ground, the concrete, or the squad car. The trial itself was a blur but there was no justice – everyone seemed to know it was someone else responsible, and he was just a petty dealer. He was offered reduced sentence for coughing up info on the people responsible, but he didn’t have that much to give.

Prison was oddly regimented as a way of life for Jace compared to life outside. He was a tall, strong guy who caught on to things quickly and found the right people, so he didn’t get messed with. His cellmate was in on more severe drug charges, an older Irish guy. Jace himself never formally entered any of the prison gangs though he ran with a few – perhaps if he’d been in longer he would have joined up.  As it was, he got himself a tattoo for his Scottish heritage, a thistle. He also didn’t get caught up with prison drama so much, and there was plenty to be had. Instead, he was forced to get his GED, he spent a lot of time working out, and he learned a lot about auto and mechanical repair.

At three and a half years in, he was eligible for parole. The problem with this was that being released right back into the environment that got you in trouble to begin with does not ultimately solve the problem. He moved back into the family home (the business in the back had long since been removed) and had a job lined up for him at an auto repair place the family knew. Things went smoothly, he stuck to parole, but he didn’t quite fit in the same as before he’d left.

And, the people that had got him into trouble in the first place? They were still around. He didn’t go looking for them, but one night while walking to the nearest convenience store from work, he ran into the man who he’d seen the evening he was arrested years ago – though the guy did not recognize him. And not to let a golden opportunity slip by, followed along quietly, looking for a chance to jump the guy.

And ultimately, that golden opportunity would be lost – because what he witnessed that night was not some dealer or lab, but something that he utterly could not explain – monsters and demon-things, and people. But in some ways, it made sense. He’d heard rumor about things like this before, but thought it was all made up – even grandpa had told stories of incredibly odd things.

Jace opted not to go after the man, or his things, and lay low for now..