Jaroslav "Jaro" Moravec, or as he's known among the racer crowd, "Blazer"

18

Helmsman

Truth be told, Jaroslav's ambitions aren't particularly noble or worthy of reverence. All he wants is his next fix of adrenaline. The small-time races back home just aren't doing it for him anymore. He needs to go harder, faster, and with something far more gigantic on his ass. Bonus points if it breathes fire.

Jaroslav isn't a difficult guy to read - he's an open book with a detailed synopsis. What you see is what you get; a reckless youth that doesn't remember yesterday and doesn't worry for tomorrow. He's generally laid back and takes things in a stride, to an extent that some may find irresponsible. If he does have a problem with someone or something though, worry not; you'll hear about it. Though he usually doesn't have bad intentions, he doesn't really watch what he says or to whom, and it has gotten him in trouble more than once.

It's not like he has trouble with authority on a principle or something though, and he is fully capable of following orders and doing as he's bid - even if he might complain about it on the way. Similarly, while Jaro does hate boredom and menial tasks, he doesn't purposefully seek to cause havoc, and never intentionally drags others into his mess. Sometimes it just... happens, and he only notices it when everything around him is figuratively ablaze. He will always try to fix what he's broken, though, and is not a bad kid at heart. At the core of most of his problems is inexperience, and no doubt leaving behind the city is going to do wonders in teaching him a thing or two about life - and death.

Adrenaline is, without a shadow of a doubt, Jaro's greatest vice. It's what drives him to seek excitement where he should not - but it's also what gives him the drive to overcome whatever obstacle he encounters on the way. It gets him in trouble, and it bails him out. It's what awaits him at the top, and what threatens to pull him under. He's a junkie, through-and-through.

Jaroslav was born in the lower-middle class area of Baltimore, and for as long as he can remember, it's just been him and his mother trying to make ends meet. There is this guy that sort of looks like him in an old portrait at the back wall of the house, holding his mom's hand - but considering the bastard left before he was even old enough to speak, Jaro just knows the guy as "that dude with shitty mustache." Hopefully, wherever he is today, he's got a better sense of style. Yikes.

Speaking of things Jaroslav doesn't know, most of his family history falls into that category. His mother has been reluctant to talk about anything that happened prior to his birth, but he's managed to gather some bits and pieces over the years. Apparently his family lived in some place called "Europe", and his grandfather served in the war that fucked the world over. Oh, and his mom had a dog, but the thing would be dead by now even if Earth hadn't been taken over by abominations.

Growing up, Jaro was always a troublesome kid - though not on purpose. He loved his mother even before he was old enough to realize just how hard she worked to put food on their table, and would've never wanted to cause her worry on purpose. He didn't set out to cause trouble. He just... set out at the wrong time, to the wrong places, with the wrong people. Trouble didn't just find him, it attached itself to him by the hip and made him race through life three-legged. It certainly didn't help that he practically lived and breathed adrenaline, with no amount of punishment able set him straight.

But worry over his increasingly old and weary mother eventually did, somewhat. By the time Jaro reached his teenage years, he started to try and redirect some of his energy to small jobs here and there in an attempt to financially support his mother. It... didn't always work out. He was still an easily bored teen, too easily distracted and too quick to rile up. Needless to say, many of his jobs ended prematurely, with his pockets being none the fuller.

That was until he ended up helping some of the older kids fix up their gear for a sport that had been making the rounds as of late; air-racing. Just like the name entailed, it involved racing over the city walls with small, usually home-made airboats. The vessels were only big enough for one, and needed dedicated repair often - which was where Jaroslav came in.

But he could only watch from the sidelines so long.

The first time he rose above the walls atop a wobbly boat, he fell in love. He was supposed to be just a substitute pilot, there to get a participation trophy for the real deal. He came in fourth. When he joined his next race after months of practice gliding around the city, he came in second; and from there, his climb to the top but continued. He was already a famous racer, hailed as the hotheaded "Blazer" with dozens of wins under his belt, when that incident cemented his name onto everyone's lips for months to come.

It was the Summer Ignite, the biggest race out there. Air-racing wasn't an official sport sanctioned by the city, and those participating in it were often fined if caught - but considering the size of the Summer Ignite and its popularity among the youth, too much effort would've needed to be poured into stopping it. It happened on the walls in the less populous, poorer area of the city, anyway; away from the general populace's eyes.

Midway through the race, all eyes were watching.

With no warning, the race was interrupted by two manticores emerging from the clouds below, their fearsome forms two dark dots against the blue of the sky. They caught the racers by surprise, and had Jaro not turned around and sped down to distract them away from some of the slower contestants, more than one family would've likely ended the evening in mourning.

So, at only seventeen, Jaroslav not only crossed the finish line first, he did so a hero, with two manticores hot on his trail.

The city watch managed to take care of the beasts before Jaro's heroic story ended in a tragedy.

Jaroslav's celebration was intense, but decidedly short-lived. By the time the next race rolled around and he rose to greet the skies once more, everything felt uncharacteristically... dull. All his senses, all the sensations around him. The breeze against his face, the wind's howl in his ears, the vertigo of leaning over the boat's edge to gaze at the murky clouds below. None of it made him tingle.

He won the race, probably. He wasn't really paying attention.

It made no matter whether he was walking the streets or sliding atop the wall now; the city felt like a prison regardless.

But while Jaro was busy having an existential crisis, the news of his heroic deed kept on traveling. Eventually, it reached influential ears, ones that happened to be in need of a helmsmen for a certain vessel. And so, a few months later, with no education to justify such a decision, he was offered the position of a helmsman on the launch of a new frigate; The Drake. Fancy name for a simple vessel, but hey-- Jaroslav wasn't shallow.

He speaks fluent Slovakian, not that he knows it's what the language is called. It's his mother tongue, and the one used at home the most.