Jonathan "PJ" Jenkins
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Full Name: Jonathan Jasper Jenkins
Typically Known As: PJ, Percival
"Percy" Jenkins
Aliases: Many including Percival J.
Jenkins, Eustace Robinson,
A. B. Wright, Clifford Lee
Race: Galdor (Anaxas)
Birthday: Vortas 32, 2665
Age: 54 (as of Vortas 2719)
Typically Known As: PJ, Percival
"Percy" Jenkins
Aliases: Many including Percival J.
Jenkins, Eustace Robinson,
A. B. Wright, Clifford Lee
Race: Galdor (Anaxas)
Birthday: Vortas 32, 2665
Age: 54 (as of Vortas 2719)
FC: Artwork by Capo
Place of Origin: Muffey, Anaxas
Current Location: Muffey, Brunnhold
Occupation: Hack Writer, Printer,
Business Owner, Smut Merchant
Languages: Monite (F), Estuan (F),
Tek (F), Mugrobi (C)
Writer Profile: Maximus
Place of Origin: Muffey, Anaxas
Current Location: Muffey, Brunnhold
Occupation: Hack Writer, Printer,
Business Owner, Smut Merchant
Languages: Monite (F), Estuan (F),
Tek (F), Mugrobi (C)
Writer Profile: Maximus
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Physical Description
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Quick Facts
- Height: 5' 2"
- Skin colour: Sallow
- Hair colour: Dark but greying
- Typical hairstyle: Thinning hair that has been slicked back, probably with spit
- Facial Hair: Usually stubbly
- Eye colour: Murky green, possibly something you'd find in the depths of a forgotten pond full of algae
- Defining style:
- Spectacles with large, round lenses
- A greyish green oilskin duster coat
- Dark cotton or leather gloves with the fingers hacked off an inch above the knuckle
He's small for a male Anaxi golly at 5' 2" and not well-built although he often manages to look a bit bulky when out and about courtesy of the layers he tends to wear and whatever items he has stashed within them. It would be rare to find him without his green oilskin duster coat, greying with age and wear, which has a great number of little pockets sewn inside it. There's no telling the variety and quantity of small, strange items that the man has secreted away and most people probably don't want to know what he has stashed about his person as there's no telling what might be found, but it's unlikely to appeal to respectable tastes. In all honesty, PJ probably doesn't remember what's in every one of his pockets and so from time to time, he finds himself pleasantly surprised at their contents.
His dark hair has begun greying, and has also started to thin, which accentuates the colour change. It is something that he keeps slicked back, the strands sometimes bearing a greasy look. While other men use wax to slick back their hair, leaving it shiny, PJ is as likely to spit in his hands and use that to bring some order to his head, especially if he’s living particularly rough. The man has been known to use proper hair products in his grooming though but it isn’t always clear when he has or not — best not to think about it. When it comes to personal grooming, he also frequently looks as if he hasn’t shaved in a day or two as his face is typically darkened with stubble. The man evidently shaves at some point but it seems nigh impossible to catch him truly clean-shaven.
Large, round lensed spectacles dominate much of his face and somewhat magnify his eyes, which are murky green and reminiscent of pond scum. In spite of the colour, there is usually a vibrancy in his gaze and laughter that usually goes hand in hand with the knowing smirk on his face.
Aside from his ever present duster jacket, PJ does seem to make some effort to be presentably dressed but it somehow… doesn’t quite work out. The man often wears shirts, a necktie or cravat, a waistcoat and trousers in darker shades, often opting for dark shades of grey, which seem to maintain a clean appearance for longer. A seemingly permanent fixture are PJ’s gloves of which he seems to have multiple pairs of either in dark cotton or leather and with the fingers hacked off about an inch above the knuckle.
When the occasion arises, he can be found with a bow tie and a suit that seems a number of years behind fashion. Even when he dons such a guise of respectability, the man usually has an untidy appearance and his gloves still tend to feature.
PJ can usually be found with a cigarette, nearly always a dog-end as he seems to stub them out and stash them away somewhere — most likely behind his ear — for later use. He is common to see him holding a cigarette firmly between his teeth and off to one side as he talks while his hands are busy.
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Personality
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He doesn’t support the Resistance or the Bad Brothers but he has been known to do things that benefit them on purpose or by accident. Sometimes he does things that benefit galdorkind, sometimes he even does things that are favourable for the kingdom, provided that it pays off. PJ more frequently falls over lines rather than toeing them but he’ll claim that he’s a decent sort deep down and just trying to make a living. You’re most likely to hear such things before, during or after he’s done something dodgy to you directly or in your vicinity. Furthermore, he isn’t a coward, thank you very much, he’s just clever enough to have a sense of self-preservation, especially when the odds are stacked against him.
He isn’t above charitable acts but they’re usually only likely to seem that way if you look at them from a certain angle while squinting and almost certainly with your head turned upside down. Then again, if you have to do that, things will probably get a bit blurry courtesy of the blood rushing to your head so at that point does it really matter?
A man of many inconsistencies, PJ probably most often comes across as slimy, crude and vulgar — he’d be inclined to say flirtatious but understands that opinions can differ — and depraved. He’s been on the wrong side of the law far too often but probably isn’t evil and he’d be the first to point out that things aren’t as morally clear cut as society would like to believe. If you were to describe him as good, he’d probably just peer at you with a greasy smirk and a wheezing chuckle that might be him laughing at you or a case of too much gas.
Generally good humoured, PJ seems content with his lot and why shouldn’t he be? Times are good even if you sometimes end up erse over heels into the gutter; after all, inspiration can come from the strangest of places and the company isn’t always that bad.
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Backstory
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Jonathan Jasper Jenkins was born to galdori parents who could be described as having an odd sense of humour although their writer son would claim that they never had any at all. Not only were they serious about giving him a name that could be shortened to J. J. Jenkins but apparently young Master Jenkins was lucky not to have had an additional ‘J’ name added in; they’d seriously contemplated adding Jeremiah. Equally fortuitous was the late switch of his first and middle names as well as the decision to go with ‘Jasper’ as opposed to ‘Jaspar’. Whatever possessed them to entertain any of it is beyond the man who named himself Percy (really Percival if you must know) and who most often goes by ‘PJ’.That he lacks such understanding isn’t surprising in light of the fact that he seems to have been something of a cuckoo. No, he wasn’t a foundling in a basket on the doorstep — Circle forbid such a thing in Muffey, what might the neighbours think? — or adopted by his parents from a nearby orphanage. The notion that he may have been placed in his parents’ home one night by some wicked wicks who spirited away the real galdor child seems like a highly believable one because surely there had to be some sort of replacement. It could hardly be believed — especially by PJ himself who often fantasised about the more exciting wick idea — that two such quiet and mundane galdori as Vincent and Elladora Jenkins could have produced the son that they did.
Vincent and Elladora were both well into their thirties when they had PJ after carefully considering if they had the financial security to raise a child in comfort, a decision that wasn’t made lightly. Although from the relatively wealthy and quite fashionable Muffey, the pair had managed to carve out a modest but comfortable existence in the town. Both of them had grown up in far more rural climes and had taken many years to get the hang of running a humble tea shop in the predominantly galdori town. Elladora prided herself on her ability to turn out simple but pleasant fare in the form of pastries and cakes, as well as creating a homely space for people to come to spend an hour or two meeting and catching up with friends. Her husband grew plants to sell and carefully tended to the hedges and flower beds around their tea shop, ensuring that it always looked pretty and tastefully colourful, the patio bursting with life. Vincent could manoeuvre numbers into careful order with methodical and hard work so that he could tend to the books, even if he did have to squint in concentration and hum to himself in thought. In that orderly life, the pair allowed themselves a few extravagances as they saw them with Vincent putting together clocks for a hobby and Elladora building up a modest library for herself, including the odd work of fiction — nothing too risqué of course!
Into this orderly world PJ came and he didn’t fit — not at all! As a boy with plenty of energy, a spirit of adventure and an overactive imagination, it was all rather dull for him. He didn’t have any interest in helping in the tea shop, even if it was only carrying some cake — he couldn’t be trusted with anything hot of course! — and he certainly didn’t want to talk to some fuddy-duddy galdori, especially the mouldy oldies! He didn’t want to have to listen to them talk about how good he was for helping out around the place or what a lovely boy he was. Even from a young age, the only child was more than capable of listening in on conversations and so he knew how much of what they said to his face were actually lies; apparently many considered that it was a shame that he had that sly, rat-like look about him. Furthermore, they thought him a troublemaker and too much of a handful for his mild-mannered parents, I mean, for Alioe’s sake, could he not even keep a pair of glasses intact for more than a week?
When the time came for his initiation test, PJ did as he was told and acceptable results were produced albeit nothing spectacular. His scholastic career proved no more exciting than that, his academic results never anything to write home about although his behaviour certainly was! Distractible, undisciplined, and a disruptive influence were all accusations levelled against the Jenkins boy. Something of a class clown, he always seemed to have something to say that was humorous to his peers, whether they were laughing with him or at him. PJ always seemed to have an answer for everything, some excuse for why he hadn’t done one piece of work or another, often outlandish and increasingly preposterous. Initially viewed as a nuisance although largely harmless in his early Brunnhold years, he became someone with whom many people grew exasperated as he moved into the upper forms — and often pitied.
Childish mischief gave way to embarrassing and often scandalous behaviours as he discovered the allure of the Stacks. The young man was placed on probation after one too many disgraceful incidents including appearing to class hungover one morning and throwing up over some of his classmates, which was probably the blow that killed the pig. Afterwards, he would tell his parents that it had been a stomach bug — honest — and that they just liked to assume the worst of him in school. Of course, his grades also attested to the fact that he hadn’t been keeping his mind on his studies.
While it was hoped that restricting him to campus for the most part would allow him to mature and focus on his studies, PJ proved to be quite disappointing in that regard. He’d always been unfocused, not seeming to have any true ambition. The young man didn’t have any definitive goal, no desire to have any particular occupation. When asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, PJ had quickly realised that ‘I’m not sure yet’ sounded better than ‘Someone who makes money.’
That he had been given divine gifts seemed of little interest to the odd galdor, the notion of arcane study entirely unappealing although he was willing to try some things for the sake of his parents. For instance, while still in a pliable state, PJ agreed to take Living Conversation as his Focus with a specialisation in plants. The prospect of following in his father’s footsteps, spending his life working with plants hardly appealed to him but he managed almost two years in that particular discipline before he switched to Living Conversation focused on animal subjects. He hadn’t properly applied himself to his original focus and he didn’t do any better with the new branch of Living Conversation either, lasting even less time in that one and leaving his field in a state of gradually increasing panic.
If their son wouldn’t apply himself to magic then it was doubtful that he’d take up any career in the arcane, Elladora and Vincent realised and so they tried to work out what they could press him into so that he wouldn’t leave Brunnhold behind and be at risk of falling into destitution. Too late and too much work in any case to get him involved in skills necessary for a law-based profession, a medical one was out of the question, the prospect of sending him to the Seventen after he graduated was laughable and he didn’t seem the sort to be contented with a simple life like their own, one he considered humdrum.
By the time he graduated, PJ had amassed a variety of different skills but without any real competency in any of them. His job prospects were mediocre, the galdor left to find what work he could, his parents there to keep him afloat when he inevitably fell back on them for aid. He did a brief stint working in a library, relieved of his duties when he was found to be spending more time reading books rather than shelving them. From there, he managed to blag his way into work as a clerk in a governmental office, which seemed to go well for him, the young man settling into the role much to his parents’ relief.
At least at first…
Low level as he was and given many menial tasks, PJ found that people tended to pay little attention to him, providing him with the opportunity to hear things that he possibly shouldn’t, as well as gaining access to things that were best kept away from the likes of him. He paid attention to those around him and gathered all the information that he could, piecing together everything no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, no matter how unrelated the bits of knowledge might seem. It turned out that he had a good memory and a knack for sniffing out secrets, largely because he liked to stick his nose where it didn’t belong — in other people’s business. It allowed him to put together dossiers on a number of topics — and people — that would enable him to fulfil his lifelong ambition of making money. Not that making it meant keeping it as the youth had a proclivity for gambling, drinking and other hedonistic pleasures.
Life in the civil service suited PJ just fine in a lot of ways but he found it neither rewarding nor exciting, leading him to find other ways to amuse himself — reckless ones. The young galdor seemed to have no respect for law and order, or his superiors, preferring to view rules and courtesies as guidelines made and adhered to by dullards like his parents. Instead, he thought it was much better to accept bribes, extort money from others by way of blackmail or charging them for illegitimate services rendered and all while being a general thorn in the side of the local Seventen. He seemed to take particular pleasure in aggravating the law enforcers, providing them with uncivil and saucy responses when he was picked up for being drunk and disorderly, brawling — no, he isn’t a fighting man but sometimes it’s necessary to bounce a stool off someone’s head — and even mocking them on the streets. PJ had a knack for finding trouble and making it so really it was no surprise to anyone, except perhaps his long-suffering parents, when he inevitably ended up being carted off to prison instead of simply spending time in the local cells.
Okay, maybe it was a bit surprising that he ended up there for assault with a deadly weapon but honestly, he didn’t know that it was a Seventen and the bottle smashing was a total accident. And the fact that the officer in question fell into the jagged end. Really, PJ wasn’t to blame but well, he could hardly argue now, could he?
Having seriously injured a Seventen, it couldn’t be taken lightly, despite him being a galdor. To begin with, he was given a hefty fine, which sucked up all of his funds — ill-gotten or otherwise — and left his parents with the burden of the remainder. He didn’t have the opportunity to worry about his lack of money though given his prison sentence: nine months in a mixed prison. As a galdor, it was probably hoped that he’d have the fear of the Circle put into him by being placed amongst the lower races but PJ wasn’t a typical galdor and he was willing to assimilate into the general prison population rather than trying to keep himself separate.
It wasn’t the first time that he’d had dealings with humans and the like, having encountered them often enough in bars and even managing to get along with them all right when alcohol had made everyone loosen up around one another. There was no alcohol in prison but given the duration of his stay, his companions weren’t fleeting ones either and he found that he had quite a few friends when they got over the galdor thing, especially as he didn’t seem too friendly with the galdori minority imprisoned with him.
Prison certainly wasn’t a jolly holiday but things could have gone a lot worse for PJ. As it was, he had a chance to learn some important life lessons from his so-called racial inferiors, such as the rudiments of shady dealings and how to keep beneath the notice of the law. It was something that he was able to practice by helping with lower-race literacy when he found that it suited him, thrilled by the chance to undermine the law and its caretakers in more subtle ways. It was also from these companions that he learned and began using Tek, the immersive environment allowing him to progress well in it, something he would build proficiency in over the years.
His prison experiences led to a great deal of introspection, the man hardening in some ways and reconsidering his place in the world. While in prison, he began keeping a diary of sorts, noting down his experiences and his thoughts, as well as noting down information that he received from others. He discovered an interest in writing, finding that he had a flare for writing things that provoked emotional responses in others, mainly jotting down tongue-in-cheek titbits to read out to his companions, reverting somewhat to the class clown that he had been in his schooldays.
By the time his almost year long prison stint was completed, PJ was a changed man, or at least one who had a better idea of his path in life. His parents were delighted when he began work with the printers and typesetters working for a newspaper in Vienda, young PJ seeming to have a genuine interest and dedication to something, and a chance to gain a trade and a stable job. While he began work as a printer, the man hadn’t forgotten the allure of crafting words rather than simply setting them out and he worked at ingratiating himself to his superiors so that he could have the chance to write as well as working with printing words.
PJ continued to learn valuable skills, quietly working towards his own goals — the chance to write what he wished and be his own master. All the same, the long game wasn’t one that he was good at as his patience typically wore thin too quickly, the pull of quick gratification and hedonism leading him to slip up again and again so that over the space of a few years, he had run the gamut of all the respectable Viendan papers who were willing to employ him, finding himself effectively blacklisted because of his tendency to slip in small, unauthorised segments into the publications he worked on.
When even some of the more salacious publications began to grow wary of him, the man struck out on his own, learning over time that there were many ways to make money if you could get your hands on a printing press and that most of them were far from respectable. He discovered that the more of a hack he became, the more money-making opportunities opened up to him. Since then, the man has been coming up with all sorts of printed matter, growing ever more creative in his attempts to satisfy the appetites of those willing to pay for them, something that has been aided by the deaths of his parents in recent years, as his inheritance has left some resources at his disposal along with a steady income.
Since finding a place in the world where he seems to fit, PJ hasn’t looked back; looking back makes people think you’re expecting pursuit and honestly, that’s a sure sign of guilt, why would you do that?
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Aptitude Skills
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Mental
Good
Good
Physical
Poor
Poor
Social
Average
Average
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Focus Skills
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Career and Income
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Housing and Inventory
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Goals
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- Make lots of money
- Try not to piss away all your money in the gutter
- Expand operations to include more locations, presses and more exciting material
