Jace Carrick

Jace Carrick has short, messy brown hair that looks tousled by every brisk alley wind. His sharp brown eyes dart constantly, always watchful. A faded scar cuts across the bridge of his nose, a souvenir from a close scrap with a rival pickpocket.

Jace's mother died when he was a child. He was taken in by a man claiming to be his uncle, but that man later abandoned him, forcing Jace to survive alone on the streets. This betrayal shaped Jace's determination to create a family among his gang of orphans, a family that won't abandon each other.

Jace Carrick is quick with a grin and a clever comeback, always keeping others off-balance with his sharp wit. Yet beneath that banter, he's cautious and watchful, often quiet when sizing up new faces or threats. He taps his thumb against the worn edge of his locket when deep in thought and speaks in clipped, confident bursts—never wasting words. His humor surfaces most with his gang, a bond of sly jokes and knowing glances that keep their spirits up. Jace keeps his walls firmly raised—slow to trust and quick to test anyone who tries. His sharp eyes and clipped tone make it clear: you earn your place, or you don’t get in at all. But when he lets someone past those gates, his loyalty turns fierce, protective, and relentless. He won’t hesitate to defend his chosen family, even if it means putting himself in harm’s way. His voice is low and steady, carrying the grit of someone who’s learned to speak only when it counts. He drops words into sharp, clipped sentences, like each syllable is a tool rather than a song. When he’s joking with the gang, that edge softens into quick, sly banter, tossing out nicknames and clever barbs. Under pressure, his tone hardens, calm but cutting—like a blade hidden in plain sight.

Jace's stubborn streak is ironclad, a shield forged from years of scraping by on his own. He never backs down once he’s set his mind on something, which can land him in trouble as much as it drives him forward. Deep down, he harbors a sharp fear of abandonment—any hint that someone might leave again tightens his walls and makes him fight harder to keep his chosen family close.

Jace’s voice is low and steady, carrying the grit of someone who’s learned to speak only when it counts. He drops words into sharp, clipped sentences, like each syllable is a tool rather than a song. When he’s joking with the gang, that edge softens into quick, sly banter, tossing out nicknames and clever barbs. Under pressure, his tone hardens, calm but cutting—like a blade hidden in plain sight.

Jace dreams of buying a house for his gang, a real home where no one gets left behind and every face is family.

Jace’s gang has been framed for a series of high-profile thefts they didn’t commit, making them fugitives and forcing them into hiding. The true culprit is a shadowy fence with ties to the city’s corrupt elite, using the orphans as pawns in a larger game. Jace is also secretly sheltering a child from a powerful family who wants that child silenced—a dangerous secret threatening to break his fragile hold on the gang. At the same time, a rival gang encroaches on their territory, pushing Jace toward conflict that could shatter his dream of safety for the orphans.