Re: Kult RPG
Name: Charles "Blackthorn" Gregson. Referred to by associates simple as Blackthorn.
Player: CDubz
Birthplace: Glasgow, Scotland, East End, Glasgow Necropolis Cemetary.
Home: 3rd Floor of an abandoned warehouse, Calumet district, Chicago Port Authority.
Address: Warehouse 7-Block 19
Archetype: Reclusive Enforcer
Profession: Hired Muscle and Enforcer, Occasionally Hitman.
Living Standard: 7
Employer: Freelance. mafia ties.
Age: 39
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 240 lbs
Appearance: Taller then average, and broad, Blackthorn looks every bit as hard and imposing as his namesake. With a long stride, a quiet manner, and grey eyes that constantly glare out from under the mop of black hair, Charles wouldn't be considered attractive to many, breaking average along with most men were it not for the several long, shock white scars running down the left side of his face, jaw, and neck, disfiguring his face, 4 running parallel to each other across his features. His right arm is likewise scarred from shoulder to hand, a similar set of 4 deep cuts or gouges running through his flesh as if Charles had been mauled by something. A deep depression along his collarbone on the left side of his shoulder and neck are strangely reminiscent of a serious bite, and despite the disquieting severity of these wounds, they do not seem to hinder or visibly pain him. The source of these wounds has long been speculated about by his associates and contacts, but never dared spoken of in his presence. With a strong jaw and a clean shaven face, if not for these scars, Charles would not be an unattractive man.
Generally keeping to himself, Charles operates a standard dress of a heavy black wool trench coat, a matching fedora to hide his features, and thick denim jeans ranging from blue to black. His shirts are all simple cotton or wool, print-less and varying in color from grey to dark blue. His boots, usually mostly hidden by his coat are well made leather with reinforced uppers and a thick rubber sole. In the summer when the temperature reaches higher temps, Charles does not alter his manner of dress, and indeed, doesn't seem to be affected visibly by the heat outside of the usual increased sweating. Though he does insist all meetings take place at the Port Authority where the constant wind keeps the temperatures relatively low. Special exceptions are made for very specific people and requests. Charles is rarely seen outside of the area he has claimed as his own, a winding serious of cargo containers and warehouses, his own home known to a very select few, most meetings taking place in many of the other currently unused buildings in the labyrinthian warehouse district. With a reputation to back up his insistence of meeting on his own turf, this is rarely argued and Charles is never trifled with, always taken seriously, and always responding in kind, a smile an extremely rare thing to see split his marred face.
Despite his size, Charles slouches quite often, walking hunched over and relaxed, hiding his actual size and intentionally hiding his features on the rare occasion he leaves his claimed sanctuary, be it for basic errands, or a job, his suppliers usually delivering what he needs directly to him, at one of several specified drop points around the district, a benefit of his chosen living arrangements and insistence on discretion. While he may work as a freelance enforcer, those that think his primary concern is money find out quickly that the Family can pay him more in what he actually needs. While no liquid assets, the Mafia has been Blackthorn's primary supplier of both protection, and equipment. On two occasions, he has made the fact that he was hired to perform an assassination of a Mafia underboss, or in one case, a made man, known to the Family, asking only that his continued home in the Warehouse district be protected as always, in exchange for killing the man that offered the hit, a note left behind with the body always reading the same thing, "Money, and Power. The Price was outmatched." This has led to Charles being avoided for jobs outside the family with the exception of private work. Out of respect for this attitude, the Mafia doesn't pry into his other work, trusting him to bring it to their attention in exchange for the protection his warehouse residence enjoys, not existing as far as other people are concerned, as long as the money or favors fall into the right hands, hardly a difficult thing for the family currently controlling half the criminal underworld as of 1999. When questioned about this by subordinates, Charles has heard the phrase "We do not control Blackthorn, we Respect him, and he returns that respect in kind. Do not make an enemy of Charles Blackthorn."
Indeed, this quiet and respectful attitude towards himself, has led Blackthorn to show an unusual amount of loyalty to the Family, prompting him to make an offer no other benefactor has received to date. As long as he is not betrayed, he shall not do so in kind, and making the arrangement well known. This does not make them allies that can link them to eachother, but rather two entities that offer a benefit to one another. Charles knows that as soon as he becomes a liability, his protection will vanish, and the Family knows that if they stop providing, Charles will stop showing them favored treatment they have relied on through their hold in the U.S. for over a decade. There has only been one incident of possible betrayal from within the family after an arrest was named, and a man with a description matching Blackthorns was offered in exchange for protection. With no other way to stop Blackthorn, the head of the family made a personal visit to Charles home, seeing him polishing his gun. Letting himself in, he said simply "Please, wait a day. Let me fix this." Before he left. Stunned by what those words meant, Charles nodded, and let the issue go. Sure enough, the witness was dead, poisoned while in protective custody, with his testimony inadmissible without his word in a public court. In response to the odd but appreciated gesture, Blackthorn made the only trip out of Chicago he has ever made to the Don's home, in broad daylight. Caught off guard by the extremely strange action on Blackthorn's part, the Don invited Blackthorn, to which he refused. "I make your men nervous, as always, you did me a favor, and I return it." he said simply, removing his hat as a gesture of respect, before handing over a Browning Hi-Power engraved in swirling silver with the words "Per la mia famiglia" embossed in the weapon's slide, and the picture of a rival arms dealer in Charles' area. "Poetic Justice" Charles said simply, meaning the weapon now resting as a gift in the Don's hand had come from this man, offering the family a chance to kill the man with his own product. Accepting the gift, the Don took Charles' hat, set it back atop his head, and wished him a safe return to his home.
Background: Born in the Necropolis Cemetary of Glasgow, Charles lived a fairly normal, wealthy childhood, kept bust in primary schooling until his rebellious nature saw him leaving schooling early, showing a deeper interest in some of his older brother Frederick's less legal practices, including dog fights, underground bareknuckle boxing, and gang enforcement. Roaming the streets of the city, Charles was rarely home, and disregarded by most of his natural family as unnecessary until he mentioned in passing on his 14th birthday, that he saw strange colors floating around some people, thinking perhaps he needed glasses. His father, a short, but imposing man immediately reacted, demanding specifics that confused Charles, such as the colors he was seeing, around what kind of people, and how often. Offering up the information easily, as he tried not to anger his family, who overlooked his more illegal dealings as a youth, Charles was quickly sent to his room in his families large estate overseeing the cathedral and the Necropolis Cemetary.
A year passed after his month-long isolation regarding the information he had shared without incident, and indeed, Charles was not foolish enough to bring up the subject again, hoping perhaps that his father had forgotten. He hadn't liked the unhealthy and hungering look in his Father's eyes. In that year, his father sired a bastard child, a healthy boy, and another sibling to join him named Gregory, his older brother, and their younger sister Anne. Anne, the kind and doted upon flower of the family was 2 years Charles' junior. A sweet, kind girl with long blonde hair and deep green eyes to match their deceased mother Anne was the foundation that held their family together. Immune to their father's stranger outbursts and temper, Anne had always filled that middling role of peacekeeper in the house, and was treasured by Charles and Frederick.
Now 16, Charles started noticing that Anne was drawn, as if she hadn't been sleeping well, and indeed, she seemed different altogether. Short tempered and likely to lash out if provoked, her performance slipped and in a last ditch effort to find out what was wrong, Frederick and Charles stayed up in their manor home, watching her room, worried that she wasn't sleeping. As it turned out, Frederick's hunch was correct, and soon enough, as the two brothers hid in the shadows, they saw their father enter her room, and lead her out. Confused, Charles stared at the colors streaming off their father, malicious, murderous, and was only stopped from interfering by Frederick's strong hand on his shoulder and a warning look. They needed to know what was going on.
Following quietly in their wake, Charles and Frederick were soon led deep into the Necropolis, the silence of the cold Scotland night itself oppressive in a way that made Charles' skin crawl with fear and disgust. Watching in horror, again Frederick stopped Charles from calling out or interfering, Charles trusting in his older brother's judgement as they watched their father standing Anne in the center of several stones in her night dress, and pulling out a large, leatherbound tome. Opening the book, both brothers were surprised that Anne hadn't reacted to anything, not the cold, not her state of dress, or even where they were, as if drugged or in a trance. Soon enough, their father left Anne there to stand in the cold, Anne unmoving and unresponsive. Rushing over, both brothers found that their sister would not answer their questions, would not speak or move, and actively resisted being moved away. Not wanting to hurt her, both brothers panicked when they heard the crunching footsteps of their father's return. Walking back, their father now carried a bucket with a crimson load, smelling of copper and old metal, the smell of fresh blood, and the stirring body of Gregory in his other arm... Before either could react, and indeed, frozen in horror, both watched transfixed as the blood was poured around Anne and on the stones, and then Gregory was killed with a long, dark, stone blade.
Filled with shock and horror, Charles was unable to react, but Frederick was already moving, charging through the stones to collide with their father with a scream of rage and hatred, a struggle ensuing as Frederick, Charles' equal in both size and strength wrenched the blade from their howling madman of a father, who even now laughed and cackled, before plunging the blade into his heart. Still frozen in place, Charles didn't know how to react, but his father wasn't dead, he could still see the aura, and indeed, as soon as Frederick looked away, their father's hand shot out to close around his throat, before the blade was turned on his older brother, who died quickly, with a shocked expression across his face.
As their father stood, Charles noticed no blood from the wound, nothing to indicate that indeed, his father had been stabbed, but when he started moving towards Anne, Charles finally found his legs working, and unlike his brother, Charles didn't stop until only the shattered corpse of his eviscerated father had stopped showing the colors only Charles could see, fading along with their father's laughter.
As if this would be the end of things, Charles finally turned to regard Anne, who, still lost in her own way, wouldn't wake. Picking her up, Charles started to walk back to the manor, stepping as if a dead man, his eyes glazed and lost, the bodies of his family left behind. Depositing Anne in her bed, Charles promptly passed out near her bedside.
Charles, haunted by vivid nightmares, was awoken by a banshee like howl splitting his ears, turning to see Anne... Her hair wild, her fingers tipped in long claws, and needle like teeth filling her mouth. He couldn't react before his sister was on top of him, tearing and biting. Screaming in pain as he felt her teeth tear into his shoulder, Charles struggled to pick her up, bleeding severely from his face, shoulders, and arm, Charles reached for the knife he killed his father with after throwing what used to be Anne across the room. With his own blood dripping down his hand on onto the blade, Charles fought Anne, his sister not subsiding until he had been forced to dismember her, and even then, she still screamed, and called, and Charles wept for everything, overcome by the insanity of everything. Crippled and unable to move, Anne was locked inside her room as Charles fled, only stopping to set the house ablaze as he ran, and ran, and ran. he didn't stop until his legs gave out outside a friends house, a local thug who paid him and his brother for easy work. shocked at the state he was in, Byron dragged Charles instead, treating his wounds himself, and stopping him from bleeding out completely, shocked that he was alive to begin with.
Charles slept, and dreamed, hidden by Byron, it as a full week before he awoke, and another 2 before he was well enough to move, or eat on his own, Byron's non expert, but sufficient care enough to keep him alive, but not whole. As Byron spoke about the manor, the fire, and the bodies, he looked at Charles, unable to ask if it was murder, and unable to explain the terrible wounds he had shown up with. Charles said he wanted to leave, never to see this place again, to put as much distance between here as he could, and never return. Nodding with some understanding, a kind man at heart, Byron made the call, and soon had Charles on a flight to the U.S. with a good word with a fellow criminal that saw the start of Charles "BlackThorn's" Career... now he lives in Chicago, working on a good reputation and powerful friends, having earned his position and his respect the hard way. 23 years have passed since that night, and not a single day has passed without Charles screaming in rage and fear as it haunts his nightmares. Children seem to turn into vicious monsters, and crowds make him suspicious as the swirl of auras and confusing signals threatens to overwhelm him. Now he lives in seclusion, moving around at night, doing work as needed, and pretending his past is just that.... Passed.
Dark Secret: Family Secret/Supernatural Experience
Agility 14
Movement 7 meters. Initiative +2
Strength 15
Constitution 20
Comeliness 3 (originally 10)
Ego 18
Charisma 4
Perception 15
Education 5
Endurance 130
Advantages and Disadvantages
+ Influential Friends (15) ((Connections to many organized crime syndicates and fellow enforcers, dealers and other criminals. Notable friends include Hard ties to the Local Mob and favors owed that he has never collected on. In exchange, Charles became more and more ingratiated with the family, and is well known and respected.))
+ Good Reputation (10) ((Infamous in his profession. Known for his efficacy))
+ Magical Intuition (20)
- Maimed (15)
- Phobia - Children (15) ((Charles will actively avoid contact with children, he cannot look them in the eyes without growing extremely aggressive, or finding a reason to leave the area. Children that do not scare easily will force Charles to flee as he usually deals with this by scaring children away. this applies to anyone under the age of 12 {Family Secret} ))
- Phobia - Crowds (5) While uncomfortable in groups of people, and making an effort to avoid them, this is not as crippling as his problem with young children, and can be controlled.
- Nightmares (10) Charles has not known a night of peaceful sleep in over 23 years. He frequently awakes suddenly, and with a weapon drawn. He has never shared the nature of these dreams with anyone. The only ones who share this knowledge are already dead.
- Mental Compulsion (5) Upon entering or leaving his home, Charles will, without fail, check a family symbol gouged deeply into the door, looking for damages. If the symbol is damaged, Charles will not enter the building until it has been repaired. {Family Secret}
-Manic-Depression. (20)
Mental Balance -25 ((Disturbed))
Skills (0 pts) 175 total, 175 spent.
Agility
Handgun 25 (44 skill points)
Weapon Maneuvers: Double Shot (20)
Weapon Maneuvers: Quick Draw (19)
Strength
Impact weapons 18 (23 skill points)
Unarmed 18 (15 skill points)
Constitution
Swim 15 (12)
Perception
Night Combat 15 (15)
Shadow 14 (14)
Ego
First Aid 18 (18)
Education
Earthly Things
Money: $25,000
Monthly Income: $ 4000
Net Avail/Mo: $ 2000
Savings: $ 50,000
Credit Value: $ 150,000
Residence: $ 150,000
Standard of Living: 7
Property: a car, furniture is sparse, though not cheap. an advanced and thorough medical-trauma kit including everything needed to treat most serious wounds without a hospital in an emergency. Most of his assets are kept liquid due to the nature of his work, and the need to purchase equipment.
Equipment:
Beretta 92FS 9mm handgun +
+Silencer (Currently not attached)
+Holster (shoulder)
Blackthorn Cane (Use Steel Pipe stats)
Kevlar Overall (Easily the most expensive thing he owns, Charles does not enter a hostile situation without it if he expects trouble)
Kevlar Vest (What is worn more often, this vest is worn during any trip leaving his home while not working.)
