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Description
. : Credits and Artist Note :.

Jacob's original design was created by Caainhurst
The font for Jacob's name was a custom creation by PookaGrafftivist ! I recommend looking at their work, it's pretty good! (I hope this is okay if I include it here? I think I read before that it is, however I cannot find your rules again to double check )
Finally got a proper reference for Jacob! And a proper everything. It took forever but I am really really happy with it. Enjoy
Everything about him can be found here, but I recommend looking at the other references listed below for more accuracy when drawing him.
Jacob's backstory is very much still a WIP. As time goes on, things in his life will change, and more will be added to his journal
This art (except the graffiti name) and character are (c) ThatFurryArtist . You may not use either in any way, shape or form, including (but not limited to) copying, tracing, gridding, reposting, using for your own roleplays, etc. Thank you.

. : Other References : .

Original Marking Reference by Caainhurst - Please refer to this for the most accurate markings (This reference takes priority over the one above).
Original Wing Reference by PenNPixel / Art by Kurekoo - Please refer to these for more wing references.
By Monrroe - This is a great example for how Jacob's facial structure looks (main focus on the muzzle)
He is covered in very short, soft fur, except for his mane/fluffy parts. They are long, soft and silky.
I have tons more reference photos, if needed please let me know!

. : Basic Character Info : .

Name: Jacob Rüskell [It is very rare for him to be called by his last name] (Last name pronounced 'Roo-SKel')
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Date of Birth: 13th of June 1999
Species: Fluffy Dragon
Sexuality: Straight
Form: Preferably feral, but anthropomorphic is also possible (however far less tasteful to him)
Where he lives: A large city located somewhere in America (specific state unknown), on top of a tall building near the city's center. The city is much like Ordos in China, however a far smaller scale, and often he will travel away from the hussle in the city's center to roam the abandoned streets around. Dragons are much like people and live among them after a long history with the humans.
Personality: Although he may act smug, regal or disgusted when in the presence of others, this is just a facade to disguise his real emotions. In truth, Jacob is lonely and hurt, easily lost in the fantasies of his daydreams. He longs for what he cannot have, and never really feels anything other than aching emptiness or blind rage. He can't sympathize with others. It's a wonder he hasn't broken publicly yet - but who's to say he hasn't privately?

. : More Character Info : .

Powers: He can make his wings grow out or retreat back into his body at will, however his main power is being able to analyse a situation and think of all the possible outcomes or paths within only a few seconds. He can also breathe/control fire, the duration depending on how much energy he has (it uses quite a lot of energy).
Statistics:
- Strength:
- Speed:
- Agility:
- Stamina:
- Intellect:
- Attack:
- Defense:
Extrovert or Introvert?: Introvert.
Favourite Colour: Black.
Favourite TV Show: Sherlock (He hasn't gotten the chance to watch all of it, but from the few episodes he did get to see he fell in love straight away. Sherlock's mindset and personality is very much like his own.)
Favourite Places: The city at night (specifically on the tops of skyscrapers and jumping from roof to roof, or standing and overlooking the going-ons below). He also loves being in the snow, however it rarely snows in the city and when it does he is too focused on trying to preserve his own life in the harsh climate.
Preferences: Prefers to be alone and left to his thoughts while roaming skyscraper roofs. He loves to explore new rooftops and look at what's happening on the ground - the way life can happen so normally while there are dangerous threats all around is absurd to him, and he finds it fascinating. He loves to collect beautiful lost objects to add to his home. He feels pleasure and an immense freedom when jumping or soaring from roof to roof, and while exploring the outer ghost regions of the city he practises his flying skills and other powers.
Relation with the City: Negative. At the age of 17 he was framed for mass arson and escaped jail after being sentenced to life in prison. More information on his backstory can be found in the journal entries below.

. : Journal Entries : .

February 26th 2017 (86 days ahead of our time)
Forewarning: Mild cursing

This journal . . . I think it is a stupid thing. Those who read it probably won't believe it. Yet I can't help with write it; if I don't, I fear I will go mad.
While reading please bear in mind that this story only covers the general going-ons, not really any specifics. Why no details? The answer is simple. I do not have the time to write everything, it is far too likely the police could find me while I dally. That, and the fact that . . . I am not ready to face everything from the past. Not yet.
I guess I should start from the beginning. I am Jacob Rüskell, and I grew up an orphan in the alleyways of this city, left to fend for myself after my father killed my mother and then committed suicide when I was only three. It may seem unlikely I could survive, but dragons mature a lot faster than humans. At the age of three I was equivalent in maturity to a human nine year old, only with far more survival skills.
Day after day, hour after hour, all of it was a continuous battle to stay alive, to see the dawn of a new day. Eat from this garbage can, steal from that shop vendor, learn to blend in with the shadows as to not draw unwanted attention. The same thing day in, day out. Until I met him.
He was another dragon, and a strange one at that. Though he was strange in the way I am strange; there's something there, and when people meet you they cannot quite figure out what's wrong, but feel a certain sense of uneasiness.
His name? Caleb. And the thing that made him different was that he had a power.
That alone may not come as a shock - most of the dragons and even a few humans in this city have some sort of power. However they are almost always weak, and, well, Caleb was anything but weak.
We met on a cold winter's night. I was hidden just out of reach of a street lamp's glow, making my home the shadows and trying to retain as much bodily warmth as I could. He was running out of a clothing shop on the same side of the street that I was on, alarm blaring behind him, the shopkeeper shouting and sirens wailing nearby.
He turned and started along the path where I was crouched, and I couldn't help but notice his laboured breathing, prominent bones and small bundles of stolen goods hanging from his mouth. I felt a rush of sympathy - how many times had I been in the same situation? - and without any prior warning I reached out and dragged him into a side alley, motioning for him to stay silent.
My makeshift plan worked; after they briefly stopped to talk with the shop owner, the police continued in their cars past our alley, and the sirens gradually faded into the distance.
Caleb couldn't stop thanking me. He offered to share his loot, and although I felt guilty in doing so, I eagerly took two of the garments. In the cold of winter one needs to preserve himself, and warmth is one of the biggest factors in surviving. I know many a person - dragon and human alike - who have fallen prey to her greedy cold bite.
We retreated further into the alley and made small talk, before curling close together to share body heat. Although it felt like an oddly intimate moment, it was the best and most comfortable night I had had in a long time. Maybe even the first where I actually had a decent amount of sleep, too.
As the days and eventually weeks went by, Caleb decided that he wanted to stay with me, and we started to grow close. From what he told me he grew up in a similar way - parents dead, forced to fend for himself. He said I had never seen him in my part of town because he became too well known in the area he originally occupied and was forced to move, or risk capture. But then, what do I know? He was a lie. His past was a lie. Everything was just a lie, lie lie lie lie -
I'm sorry. I must not deviate from the story.
We stayed together for two years, and . . . I will admit, I started to get feelings for him. Although now I look back on it they were only brotherly feelings, nothing more.
He always cheered me up when all I wanted to do was sit in the middle of the road and get hit by a truck. He always shared anything he stole. He and I made a great team, and I thought we would be eternal.
But that's all it was. Just a thought. Because on November 19th of 2016, everything started to turn to shit.
In sections of the city that we roamed, shops started to go up in flames. Within the space of a week, five shops had been turned to ash. Four dead. Six injured.
And every night it was to happen, Caleb snuck off when he thought I slept.
And like the blind idiot I was, I refused to believe the increasingly obvious truth. I convinced myself that he just had to use to bathroom, or he was going for a stroll, or maybe even some late night thievery. Anything but the truth.
The arson fires continued another two weeks and became increasingly frequent - some even occurred in daylight to catch the police and shop owners off guard.
Three weeks. Thirty-six shops burnt down. Nineteen dead. Twenty-six injured. Hundreds of thousands in dollars worth of damage - not millions, because the arsonist was clever, you see - he only targeted small, out-of-the way buildings that people weren't expecting to be targeted. And then, on the Thursday of the fourth week, December 12th, everything got way more drastic.
You know how before I said Caleb was powerful? Do you want to guess what he could do? No? Well, I'll tell you. The fucking bastard had an affinity for fire and could control the finer details of illusion magic.
I finally had to acknowledge the terrible truth - Caleb was the arsonist, and I had no doubt about it although I tried to convince myself otherwise. I went. I confronted him.
At first I begged him to stop. I wanted everything to go back to how it had first been. But eventually those pleas turned to threats when Caleb admitted yet refused to stop or tell me why he had become like this.
I said I would call the police. He said he would flee before they arrived. I said I would fight him and keep him immobile until they arrived. He looked at me with so, so much hate, something so utterly foreign and unnatural, and then he disappeared - the first yet certainly not last time I saw him use illusion magic.
That night was when everything turned to hell.
He set fire to ten buildings in three hours close to our hideout, and then six more a little further away before he started a fire in the city park. But those, those were all just distractions. Distractions made to get all of the city's authorities to be too busy saving people and fighting the flames to even try to image what would happen next. Because while they fought the flames he made his way to the city's largest bank.
I will spare you the details, but he slaughtered all of the security guards and late-night employees, and stole over five million dollars worth of cash and credits from vaults and accounts, before yet again starting another fire, however only in a very small area where the bodies were.
But you know what the cherry on this cake was? What the real thing that topped it all of? It was that he deliberately let himself be filmed by the security cameras while doing all of this. But he didn't look like him, oh no no no. That bastard, that fucking maniac, that fire-wielding, trigger-happy psychopath, was disguised as me for the entire night, so not only did the bank cameras catch 'me', cameras everywhere showed me causing all of this chaos. But you think that as the last of it? Hah, I wish.
You may be thinking, 'but footage isn't everything. They need physical evidence.' But the police had plenty of that. He made sure to leave footprints and hair samples all around the bank. But wasn't it his samples, then? No no no no n o, I mentioned that he was powerful and it's because his illusion magic can replicate someone or something exactly - so the cops found my DNA everywhere, not his.
The police caught me unaware and took me to court. I had no proof, the word of a homeless alleyway thief means nothing to the government. I was charged with the arson of fifty-three buildings and the city park, the murder of twenty-seven humans and dragons, injuring forty-two, and stealing over five million dollars, although they could not find it no matter what. I guess that's when the severity of what Caleb did hit me. I broke down in the court. I pleaded. But like I said, the word of a homeless thief with a prior criminal record and some affinity with fire means nothing. And then I was sentenced to death. Firing squad, four-thirty on the afternoon of December the 13th. Black Friday.
I was thrown, screaming and choking on my own spit, into a cell to wait until the squad was ready. But there was no way I was just going to sit there and wait for them to come and fetch me.
Caleb had a strong power. Did I mention I have one as well? His is indeed very dangerous, but perhaps mine is more so. You see, I can control fire and I can grow wings, but I can also look at a situation and analyse all the possible outcomes within just a moment. So all I had to do was scan the cell I was in to see that if I inserted my claw into one of the hinges a certain way, and then violently twisted it to the right before curling my horns around one bar and pulling with as much force as I could, the door would give way and I could get out.
Escaping from the cell was easy. Escaping from the prison compound was harder. But with over a decade's worth of experience hiding in the shadows, and the strength of my power backing it up, I managed to escape without incident - although I was very close to being caught.
So I guess my story ends here for now. It's been just over two months since I escaped, and if I was to be caught again I have no second chances. Authorities have the ability to shoot me on sight.
I haven't seen nor heard from Caleb, but that doesn't stop me from trying to hunt this fucker down. He will pay for ruining my life and forcing me off the alleys that I called my home for so long. However, I guess I should say that I do find it much more appealing living on the roofs. I feel so wild and primal, I feel so free. There's something oddly charming about jumping from roof to roof with the lure of death below every time you move.
This entry ends here for now. Although I probably will write more soon, as this was a strangely calming pastime. My mind feels more clear now.
I'm currently at my hide out on top of a large sky scraper near the center of the city, but hidden in the midst of other smaller ones. The wind is tickling my mane, I can smell the mingling scents of food and fumes, and I can hear the busy city life going on below me. How ignorant they must be to continue their lives when such a threat is still out there. And how stupid I must be to try and find him.
But I guess my sense of stupidity and all my other emotions were burnt by him long ago. All I feel now is an emptiness - an emptiness filled with blind rage and aching desire to see his blood spilt and neck slit. He will die, and I will be the last face he sees. Not just for what he did to me, but for what he did to so many other people's lives.
I must remember that I am not the only one to suffer at his claws.
I must remember who I am.
I must remember not to lose control.
But I don't know if I can keep remembering.

Description
. : Credits and Artist Note :.

Jacob's original design was created by Caainhurst
The font for Jacob's name was a custom creation by PookaGrafftivist ! I recommend looking at their work, it's pretty good! (I hope this is okay if I include it here? I think I read before that it is, however I cannot find your rules again to double check )
Finally got a proper reference for Jacob! And a proper everything. It took forever but I am really really happy with it. Enjoy
Everything about him can be found here, but I recommend looking at the other references listed below for more accuracy when drawing him.
Jacob's backstory is very much still a WIP. As time goes on, things in his life will change, and more will be added to his journal
This art (except the graffiti name) and character are (c) ThatFurryArtist . You may not use either in any way, shape or form, including (but not limited to) copying, tracing, gridding, reposting, using for your own roleplays, etc. Thank you.

. : Other References : .

Original Marking Reference by Caainhurst - Please refer to this for the most accurate markings (This reference takes priority over the one above).
Original Wing Reference by PenNPixel / Art by Kurekoo - Please refer to these for more wing references.
By Monrroe - This is a great example for how Jacob's facial structure looks (main focus on the muzzle)
He is covered in very short, soft fur, except for his mane/fluffy parts. They are long, soft and silky.
I have tons more reference photos, if needed please let me know!

. : Basic Character Info : .

Name: Jacob Rüskell [It is very rare for him to be called by his last name] (Last name pronounced 'Roo-SKel')
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Date of Birth: 13th of June 1999
Species: Fluffy Dragon
Sexuality: Straight
Form: Preferably feral, but anthropomorphic is also possible (however far less tasteful to him)
Where he lives: A large city located somewhere in America (specific state unknown), on top of a tall building near the city's center. The city is much like Ordos in China, however a far smaller scale, and often he will travel away from the hussle in the city's center to roam the abandoned streets around. Dragons are much like people and live among them after a long history with the humans.
Personality: Although he may act smug, regal or disgusted when in the presence of others, this is just a facade to disguise his real emotions. In truth, Jacob is lonely and hurt, easily lost in the fantasies of his daydreams. He longs for what he cannot have, and never really feels anything other than aching emptiness or blind rage. He can't sympathize with others. It's a wonder he hasn't broken publicly yet - but who's to say he hasn't privately?

. : More Character Info : .

Powers: He can make his wings grow out or retreat back into his body at will, however his main power is being able to analyse a situation and think of all the possible outcomes or paths within only a few seconds. He can also breathe/control fire, the duration depending on how much energy he has (it uses quite a lot of energy).
Statistics:
- Strength:
- Speed:
- Agility:
- Stamina:
- Intellect:
- Attack:
- Defense:
Extrovert or Introvert?: Introvert.
Favourite Colour: Black.
Favourite TV Show: Sherlock (He hasn't gotten the chance to watch all of it, but from the few episodes he did get to see he fell in love straight away. Sherlock's mindset and personality is very much like his own.)
Favourite Places: The city at night (specifically on the tops of skyscrapers and jumping from roof to roof, or standing and overlooking the going-ons below). He also loves being in the snow, however it rarely snows in the city and when it does he is too focused on trying to preserve his own life in the harsh climate.
Preferences: Prefers to be alone and left to his thoughts while roaming skyscraper roofs. He loves to explore new rooftops and look at what's happening on the ground - the way life can happen so normally while there are dangerous threats all around is absurd to him, and he finds it fascinating. He loves to collect beautiful lost objects to add to his home. He feels pleasure and an immense freedom when jumping or soaring from roof to roof, and while exploring the outer ghost regions of the city he practises his flying skills and other powers.
Relation with the City: Negative. At the age of 17 he was framed for mass arson and escaped jail after being sentenced to life in prison. More information on his backstory can be found in the journal entries below.

. : Journal Entries : .

February 26th 2017 (86 days ahead of our time)
Forewarning: Mild cursing

This journal . . . I think it is a stupid thing. Those who read it probably won't believe it. Yet I can't help with write it; if I don't, I fear I will go mad.
While reading please bear in mind that this story only covers the general going-ons, not really any specifics. Why no details? The answer is simple. I do not have the time to write everything, it is far too likely the police could find me while I dally. That, and the fact that . . . I am not ready to face everything from the past. Not yet.
I guess I should start from the beginning. I am Jacob Rüskell, and I grew up an orphan in the alleyways of this city, left to fend for myself after my father killed my mother and then committed suicide when I was only three. It may seem unlikely I could survive, but dragons mature a lot faster than humans. At the age of three I was equivalent in maturity to a human nine year old, only with far more survival skills.
Day after day, hour after hour, all of it was a continuous battle to stay alive, to see the dawn of a new day. Eat from this garbage can, steal from that shop vendor, learn to blend in with the shadows as to not draw unwanted attention. The same thing day in, day out. Until I met him.
He was another dragon, and a strange one at that. Though he was strange in the way I am strange; there's something there, and when people meet you they cannot quite figure out what's wrong, but feel a certain sense of uneasiness.
His name? Caleb. And the thing that made him different was that he had a power.
That alone may not come as a shock - most of the dragons and even a few humans in this city have some sort of power. However they are almost always weak, and, well, Caleb was anything but weak.
We met on a cold winter's night. I was hidden just out of reach of a street lamp's glow, making my home the shadows and trying to retain as much bodily warmth as I could. He was running out of a clothing shop on the same side of the street that I was on, alarm blaring behind him, the shopkeeper shouting and sirens wailing nearby.
He turned and started along the path where I was crouched, and I couldn't help but notice his laboured breathing, prominent bones and small bundles of stolen goods hanging from his mouth. I felt a rush of sympathy - how many times had I been in the same situation? - and without any prior warning I reached out and dragged him into a side alley, motioning for him to stay silent.
My makeshift plan worked; after they briefly stopped to talk with the shop owner, the police continued in their cars past our alley, and the sirens gradually faded into the distance.
Caleb couldn't stop thanking me. He offered to share his loot, and although I felt guilty in doing so, I eagerly took two of the garments. In the cold of winter one needs to preserve himself, and warmth is one of the biggest factors in surviving. I know many a person - dragon and human alike - who have fallen prey to her greedy cold bite.
We retreated further into the alley and made small talk, before curling close together to share body heat. Although it felt like an oddly intimate moment, it was the best and most comfortable night I had had in a long time. Maybe even the first where I actually had a decent amount of sleep, too.
As the days and eventually weeks went by, Caleb decided that he wanted to stay with me, and we started to grow close. From what he told me he grew up in a similar way - parents dead, forced to fend for himself. He said I had never seen him in my part of town because he became too well known in the area he originally occupied and was forced to move, or risk capture. But then, what do I know? He was a lie. His past was a lie. Everything was just a lie, lie lie lie lie -
I'm sorry. I must not deviate from the story.
We stayed together for two years, and . . . I will admit, I started to get feelings for him. Although now I look back on it they were only brotherly feelings, nothing more.
He always cheered me up when all I wanted to do was sit in the middle of the road and get hit by a truck. He always shared anything he stole. He and I made a great team, and I thought we would be eternal.
But that's all it was. Just a thought. Because on November 19th of 2016, everything started to turn to shit.
In sections of the city that we roamed, shops started to go up in flames. Within the space of a week, five shops had been turned to ash. Four dead. Six injured.
And every night it was to happen, Caleb snuck off when he thought I slept.
And like the blind idiot I was, I refused to believe the increasingly obvious truth. I convinced myself that he just had to use to bathroom, or he was going for a stroll, or maybe even some late night thievery. Anything but the truth.
The arson fires continued another two weeks and became increasingly frequent - some even occurred in daylight to catch the police and shop owners off guard.
Three weeks. Thirty-six shops burnt down. Nineteen dead. Twenty-six injured. Hundreds of thousands in dollars worth of damage - not millions, because the arsonist was clever, you see - he only targeted small, out-of-the way buildings that people weren't expecting to be targeted. And then, on the Thursday of the fourth week, December 12th, everything got way more drastic.
You know how before I said Caleb was powerful? Do you want to guess what he could do? No? Well, I'll tell you. The fucking bastard had an affinity for fire and could control the finer details of illusion magic.
I finally had to acknowledge the terrible truth - Caleb was the arsonist, and I had no doubt about it although I tried to convince myself otherwise. I went. I confronted him.
At first I begged him to stop. I wanted everything to go back to how it had first been. But eventually those pleas turned to threats when Caleb admitted yet refused to stop or tell me why he had become like this.
I said I would call the police. He said he would flee before they arrived. I said I would fight him and keep him immobile until they arrived. He looked at me with so, so much hate, something so utterly foreign and unnatural, and then he disappeared - the first yet certainly not last time I saw him use illusion magic.
That night was when everything turned to hell.
He set fire to ten buildings in three hours close to our hideout, and then six more a little further away before he started a fire in the city park. But those, those were all just distractions. Distractions made to get all of the city's authorities to be too busy saving people and fighting the flames to even try to image what would happen next. Because while they fought the flames he made his way to the city's largest bank.
I will spare you the details, but he slaughtered all of the security guards and late-night employees, and stole over five million dollars worth of cash and credits from vaults and accounts, before yet again starting another fire, however only in a very small area where the bodies were.
But you know what the cherry on this cake was? What the real thing that topped it all of? It was that he deliberately let himself be filmed by the security cameras while doing all of this. But he didn't look like him, oh no no no. That bastard, that fucking maniac, that fire-wielding, trigger-happy psychopath, was disguised as me for the entire night, so not only did the bank cameras catch 'me', cameras everywhere showed me causing all of this chaos. But you think that as the last of it? Hah, I wish.
You may be thinking, 'but footage isn't everything. They need physical evidence.' But the police had plenty of that. He made sure to leave footprints and hair samples all around the bank. But wasn't it his samples, then? No no no no n o, I mentioned that he was powerful and it's because his illusion magic can replicate someone or something exactly - so the cops found my DNA everywhere, not his.
The police caught me unaware and took me to court. I had no proof, the word of a homeless alleyway thief means nothing to the government. I was charged with the arson of fifty-three buildings and the city park, the murder of twenty-seven humans and dragons, injuring forty-two, and stealing over five million dollars, although they could not find it no matter what. I guess that's when the severity of what Caleb did hit me. I broke down in the court. I pleaded. But like I said, the word of a homeless thief with a prior criminal record and some affinity with fire means nothing. And then I was sentenced to death. Firing squad, four-thirty on the afternoon of December the 13th. Black Friday.
I was thrown, screaming and choking on my own spit, into a cell to wait until the squad was ready. But there was no way I was just going to sit there and wait for them to come and fetch me.
Caleb had a strong power. Did I mention I have one as well? His is indeed very dangerous, but perhaps mine is more so. You see, I can control fire and I can grow wings, but I can also look at a situation and analyse all the possible outcomes within just a moment. So all I had to do was scan the cell I was in to see that if I inserted my claw into one of the hinges a certain way, and then violently twisted it to the right before curling my horns around one bar and pulling with as much force as I could, the door would give way and I could get out.
Escaping from the cell was easy. Escaping from the prison compound was harder. But with over a decade's worth of experience hiding in the shadows, and the strength of my power backing it up, I managed to escape without incident - although I was very close to being caught.
So I guess my story ends here for now. It's been just over two months since I escaped, and if I was to be caught again I have no second chances. Authorities have the ability to shoot me on sight.
I haven't seen nor heard from Caleb, but that doesn't stop me from trying to hunt this fucker down. He will pay for ruining my life and forcing me off the alleys that I called my home for so long. However, I guess I should say that I do find it much more appealing living on the roofs. I feel so wild and primal, I feel so free. There's something oddly charming about jumping from roof to roof with the lure of death below every time you move.
This entry ends here for now. Although I probably will write more soon, as this was a strangely calming pastime. My mind feels more clear now.
I'm currently at my hide out on top of a large sky scraper near the center of the city, but hidden in the midst of other smaller ones. The wind is tickling my mane, I can smell the mingling scents of food and fumes, and I can hear the busy city life going on below me. How ignorant they must be to continue their lives when such a threat is still out there. And how stupid I must be to try and find him.
But I guess my sense of stupidity and all my other emotions were burnt by him long ago. All I feel now is an emptiness - an emptiness filled with blind rage and aching desire to see his blood spilt and neck slit. He will die, and I will be the last face he sees. Not just for what he did to me, but for what he did to so many other people's lives.
I must remember that I am not the only one to suffer at his claws.
I must remember who I am.
I must remember not to lose control.
But I don't know if I can keep remembering.