Jalal Casanyas

positive
✔ Incisive
✔ Clever
✔ Charismatic
✔ Adaptable
✔ Focused

likes

✔ Adrenaline
✔ Fighting
✔ Control
✔ Dry scents
✔ Music

Jalal's childhood wasn't what one might call cushy. Of course, post vampire takeover of the planet, there probably wasn't a single cushy childhood among the surviving free humans. Cushy it may not have been, but it was a relatively safe one. Children among the rebels were well protected and guarded; they were the future of the human race after all.

Survival. That was the first thing drilled into young Jal’s head. They, humanity, had to survive and take the world back from the vampiric plague that had consumed it. And to survive meant to fight. It was all theoretical at first. Raised in the heart of the rebel camp, he was mostly cushioned from the brutality and violence and death and terror that was not at all uncommon. He learned his A-B-Cs and how to spell. He also learned how to load a gun, how to sharpen a blade, how to fight and grapple bare handed in a pinch. And he learned to think, strategize, and plan.

Neither of his parents had an abundance of time for child rearing but it all worked out. One of the adults, one with less crucial skills in the field, would keep an eye on the kids; teach them and train them. And Jal shone. He wasn’t alone, either. There were a great many promising youngsters. Some, like Jal, were born into this community of survivors; while others found their way to them and were welcomed. There were kids who were stronger, there were kids who were more clever. But there weren’t many kids who were as equally strong, resilient, and cunning as Jalal. Blake Wright was one, however. He had come to the rebel camp as a teenager; baby sister in tow; and excelled at everything. He was smart, charismatic, innovative… in short, he was a born leader.

He and Jal were cut from a similar weave of cloth and found themselves teaming up rather often both in training and on actual missions. There weren't many others who could keep up with the two of them. But there were a couple of kids who were never far from Jalal and Blake; their kid siblings, who were closer to each other than Jal and Blake were. They were a promising duo, even if Blaize did trail after Isabella like a lovesick puppy more than half the time. Many in the rebel camp found it charming, watching those two grow and blossom from childish puppy love to something rather more serious. Jal, personally, wasn't over the moon about the two of them, but he had to admit it was a good match for his sometimes thick-headed little brother. Isabella was the sharper of the two by far and someone had to keep Blaize from running off on some half-cocked, emotion-fueled waste of time. That sort of thing could get him killed and Jal did love his dumb baby brother, nonetheless.

Blake was smart and strong and well loved; but Jal was just a bit more cunning, and a lot less moral. It was good that the Wright siblings had stumbled into them and become one of them. Blake had been old enough to learn from the previous leader and could then pass that knowledge on to Jal, who had been deemed just a little too young and reckless. While his younger brother made friends, Jalal made plans. He made friends too, of course, but mostly plans. Having allies was a key part of making those plans after all.

When the former leader of the NYC area rebellion stepped down in favor of Blake, Jal expected to be made his second. But instead of choosing the most qualified candidate, Blake picked Isabella. Nepotism. It was pathetic. Blake making his kid sister his second? As if she’d actually be able to keep her head in the game and act the part if he went down. The whole thing was enough to make Jal’s eyes roll out of his head and around the globe a couple times. He liked his little brother just fine but he wasn’t that much of an idiot. That opinion stayed under wraps, but it never wavered. So too did his simmering ambition. He was always careful to be there at the right time and place to do things that would get him noticed and appreciated.

With his internal thoughts and self so obsessively monitored it’s no wonder that when Jal lets loose he goes all out. Gone are the days when a reckless young man could be self-destructive in a number of ways of varying degrees of acceptability. There was only one allowable outlet: the inhuman menace that had taken over the world. As smart as he was; as clever and strategic and meticulous as he could be; when he had the chance to get in the field he was brutal, efficient, and utterly merciless. It wasn’t for any personal vendetta, though he had lost people (including his parents) over the years. It was simply the only place to channel the violence; the only adrenaline rush that made him feel good and look good. And he had more then just silver and cold iron bullets that were a staple amongst the rebellion's fighters. He used anything he could get his hands on and the more damaging the better. Silver plated brass knuckles for clocking vampires up close and personal, dirty bombs with silver and iron shards to cause lasting damage, cold iron blades with silver inlay for those times when fighting a mixed force; Jalal played hardball.

Hardworking, personable, dedicated, passionate. Those were the sentiments that began sticking to Jal. His carefully laid plans were unfolding quite nicely and he was getting the praise and, yes, the responsibility and power that came with such achievements. But he wasn’t at the top of the foodchain. Not yet. And he could be. He knew he could. He just needed the opportunity to really shine. And then everything fell neatly into place with surprisingly little effort on his part. A number of discrete and altogether backwards communications later an arrangement had been arrived at. Apparently, a certain bigwig vampire had something personal against the poor Wright siblings and was willing to play nice enough. Jal didn’t have anything against Blake, but he really was in the way of his ambitions. And yes, Blaize was going to be marrying Bella, but he'd get over the loss in time. Everyone got over loss eventually.

The setup went off without a hitch. The only casualties, besides the unfortunate Wrights, were one dead and five serious injuries. Yes, Blaize had tried to have his big damn hero moment; and yes, Jal had been forced to hold him back which lead to tussle that his kid brother had no hope of winning. Blaize would come around when he got tired of sniffling and everyone else was falling into line about as expected.Better than expected, really. Jal had been instrumental in helping lay the groundwork for unifying the world's assorted rebellions and now everything was coming to fruition.

He relocated to Australia, one of the few landmasses not completely overrun and dug in for the long haul, overseeing the global resistance. He still goes on missions, but it's easier to keep him out of the field now that raids and missions are a lot further out and require a lot more planning than before. It makes him chomp at the bit often enough but it gives his second peace of mind. She would really appreciate it if he would be a little less devil-may-care with his own safety given his position. But she has to admit it inspires the rank and file rebels to have the head lead and participate in missions. It gives weight to the idea that he would never sacrifice anyone needlessly, or ask for something he wasn't willing to do himself. Jalal doesn’t have ties with the Anointed, but he isn’t above using them, and their slave markets, to further his own ambitions. He’s the undisputed leader of the entire planet's rebel movement and he aims to stay on top of the heap.