| abstract
| - Born as a simple commoner in Brill, Jacob knew little of what would come to pass in his life. His parents, Joshua and Kayla Strecker, were overjoyed (and a little worried) to have been blessed with little Jacob. Jacob, after a few years as an infant and toddler, picked up after his father's overly-studious ways. He often asked 'Why?,' which rather annoyed his teachers and older members of the community; they proved themselves unable to answer his innocent questions and, by extension, sate his thirst for knowledge. This, again to their dismay, led to him simply asking more questions, until a believable answer was given. There was one other thing that stood out about the boy, though: His love of magic. While other children would play Guards and Bandits or act out battles against fictitious evils, Jacob would try his hand at simple 'parlor tricks,' as more experienced spellcasters dubbed them. Making sticks join together, becoming a tiny, misshapen figure and dance around; causing string to move on its own like a snake; even conjuring tiny dots of a purplish, arcane light simply fascinated the young Jacob. He wasn't gifted, by any stretch of the imagination, but he never gave up. As Jacob grew older, however, his life took a far, far worse turn. Shortly after he turned ten, the elder Strecker spoke to him alone in a locked room in the back of their house. "Jacob, son," the father said, "I... I am going to be leaving. It isn't safe for me anymore. I know, if I do not leave, I will die." Jacob, naturally, was horrified and perplexed by this sudden statement. Seeing his jovial, always-smiling father become a frowning, seemingly older man right before his eyes worried him. "Your grandfather, James Strecker," he spoke the name with darting eyes and a hushed voice. "Your grandfather damned us all, Jacob. Without fail, every Strecker man since him has met an untimely end thanks to a brutal, vicious murder." Joshua shook his head, not wishing to say anything more on the subject, leaving the boy to worry further. "So, I am giving you this ring, James' ring. Please, Jacob, keep it safe." Joshua and Kayla left, smiling despite knowing their fate, the next day. A week later, their remains were found, torn to pieces. Only the clothing scraps that remained gave any identification to the victims. Even the few bones found were charred and scarred, indicating a brutal demise, just as the man said. After the funeral of his parents, and his own personal mourning, Jacob took up a job nearer Capital City as a librarian's assistant. It was here he met the man that his 'inner mage' had been searching for all this time: Anem Paranis, a young elf who had come with his parents from Quel'thalas en route to Dalaran. The two became fast friends, spending the better part of a year together. Jacob gave Anem and his parents a small place to stay - the Strecker house was, by no means, too small for four - and Anem's family repaid his kindness with rudimentary magic lessons. Before long, the young elf chose to stay with his new-found friend. After a few months, Jacob had a small amount of skill, juggling small, fragile arcane orbs to amuse the children of Tirisfal. However, all good things had to have come to an end. Anem left tearfully after a year had passed, making a promise to someday see Jacob again. Years passed, people grew older, died, and were born. The Alliance had splintered. Jacob was sixteen at this time, and grew lonely and tired of mundane life, visiting his parents' makeshift graves more and more, hoping for some sort of advice from the late Strecker family. Unfortunately, none came. A guiding figure, someone older, was all Jacob wanted. He found it in the most unlikely of places. A man pulled him aside in Capital City once, taking him to the a back alley. He spoke of a man named Kel'thuzad, and the promises of a great cult. Jacob was swayed into the folds of the cult at the age of seventeen. During his time, he was only assigned to simple murders of those who would not join. However, months after he joined, this changed. Jacob was in a small group to be led by a far more experienced member. Their mission? Incapacitate the guards and pave the way for their new 'leader,' as several referred to him as, Prince Arthas Menethil. The Prince, indeed, came on the foretold day, the runeblade Frostmourne at his side; he drove the weapon through the heart of King Terenas Menethil II, his own father. In the ensuing panic, Jacob was captured and tortured, mentally and physically, for several weeks. Eventually, his torturers tired of his lack of answers and constant utterance of 'Why?' and opted, simply, to drown him and leave the body on the shore. They never noticed one of their own turn back, carrying the body lovingly to a small crypt in the area now known as Deathknell, leaving it with a spell and an engraved J-shaped rune on the back of his hand.
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