Thaddeus "Lucky" Barlow
High Concept: Lucky Rogue with a Heart of Gold ... Silver.
Template: Minor Talent
Aspects:
"No Balls, No Blue Chips".
Graveyards are Filled with my Dead.
Stories Should Have Happy Endings
You best start believing in ghost stories, you're in one.
Champion of the Underdog.
Trouble:
Live long enough and you will owe everyone something
Sucker for a Sob Story
Phases:
Where did you come from? - "No Balls, No Blue Chips"
Born in 1832 in Vicksburg Mississippi, the son of a gambler ( Garland Barlow ) and saloon owner ( Flora Wells ). My father was lynched in 1835 by a vigilante group in Vicksburg and my mother ( and me ) run out of town on rails. We settled with her running a riverboat saloon and me learning the ways of the river.
By 1858, I had been living the life of a riverboat gambler since my mid teens, first as an assistant/straight man for some of the established sharps and then on my own. I was a natural, but a little to inclined to "force" the issue. This ended up with me caught cheating at poker. I was beaten almost to death and thrown overboard. I awoke on the shore badly damaged but surprisingly still alive. I healed up nicely without any scars from the terrible beating. I continued in my chosen profession, but at this point I started getting strong feelings about the way a contest/decision could turn out. It was almost like visualizing scales with both choices being weighed against each other. The most likeliest would seem heavier. These feelings turned out to be pretty accurate, but with lady luck always getting her say. As I grew older, I noticed I never seemed to look or feel older from this point in my life.
What Shaped You? - Graveyards Are Filled With My Dead
Abby was a strong woman, able to handle life on the ship and with me. Smart, quick-witted and a biting sense of humor, she was my true love. When she was needed for a con, she could handle her part with the best. She always seemed to deal with any situation. Failing her was the great tragedy of my life. I was in process of reeling in a big mark, worth a lot of money, when the boiler exploded. I kept with the mark getting him to safety, knowing Abby could take care of herself and not wanting to lose the money even during such a disaster. Turned out I had taken the wrong bet and Abby perished. Devastated, I started traveling ... and aging.
What was your first adventure? - Stories Should Have Happy Endings
After about 10 years abroad and much internal reflection, I decided to return to the River and I stopped aging again. I returned to my lifestyle, but not with the vigor I had previously experienced. Something was missing. The thrill was gone. It was just a job, a living.
Then I met Christina. The first beautiful soul I met since Abby. Her husband was also on the Riverboat "circuit" and was an ass. I started seeing her whenever I was able to pass through Natchez or when I could catch her riding a boat with her husband. We became very close friends and I learned some of her history. I am still not sure how she got hooked in by such a despicable man. I learned of the abuse she suffered at his hands and decided to do something. Not for any potential gain for me, but because it was the right thing to do. She deserved better.
I was able to lure him into what looked like a very profitable situation with me as a partner, of course if I did not play my part correctly then things could go very badly. But why would I double cross him, we barely knew each other and would make out like bandits afterwards. Needless to say he did not live past this mistake. You don't con some people and get away with it. I am not sure if Christina ever suspected my handiwork in her husband's death or if she was just too pleased to ask any questions. But, after her mourning ( quickly ), we were married and I settled down. I had to use some disguise abilities to make it look like I was aging at least a little, but we had a very happy life together.
Whose path have you crossed? - You best start believing in ghost stories, you're in one.
Met a man named Mordred, his car was broken down just outside the city limits. I was going to walk on by, but I noticed some wounds on his flesh, they looked like claw marks. I asked him what had happened, and he was reluctant to tell me at first, but after I brought him to a bar, he began to open up and tell me about his story. That's when the shit really started hitting the fan. Seems Mordred's got a few enemies, human and.... other. There were these things he called Shen, not quite sure what exactly they were, but they looked like weird demon monkeys. At about 3 in the morning, most of the patrons in the bar just vanished, and there was this strange sound coming from outside. It disappeared after a few minutes, but then one of these things went flying through the window. Mordred took up a spear that he was carrying (strangely I didn't notice it until then) and just stabbed it. I looked outside and was able to see a whole host of them, probably 15 or more. Mordred pushed me outside, and that was the last I heard of him, until lately that is. I just thought he'd died, but I've been hearing stories, about a tall Norwegian fellow patrolling the alleys. Might be him.
Who else's path have you crossed? - Champion of the underdog
10 refresh, 35 skill
Supernatural Power:
( -1 ) supernatural sense - sense the odds
Mortal Stunts:
( -1 ) acrobat
( -1 ) catburglar
( -1 ) I know just the guy
( -1 ) read the surface
Skills: 1 Superb, 2 Great, 3 Good, 4 Fair, 5 Average (15 total skills)
***** Burglary
**** Empathy
**** Contacts
*** Athletics
*** Fists
*** Deceit
** Rapport
** Stealth
** Presence
** Endurance
* Resources
* Alertness
* Investigation
* Discipline
* Conviction
Family events:
born 1832
1st marriage 1865 ( Abigail "Abby" Robinson d. 1868 ( boiler explosion ) )- St Louis
2nd marriage 1880 ( Christina Reeves d.1907 ) 3 kids - Natchez
3rd marriage 1917 ( Nora Greer d. 1919 ( influenza )) - Memphis
4th marriage 1924 ( Hope Dalton d. 1932 ) -- New Orleans
Character Concept:
Born in 1832 in Vicksburg Miss., he made a living as a riverboat gambler ( and when out of stake money, whatever he had to do. cat burglary, confidence scams ... ). He was caught cheating in a poker game, got the shit kicked out of him and thrown overboard to die. He washed up on the shore and healed normally, but with no scarring. From this point on he did not age. He also slowly discovered the ability to "sense the odds" in situations. This is a great skill for a gambler. Unfortunately, he will go sometimes against this sense, even though he know the odds are bad, and bet the longshot or the good story or his favorite. By following his heart instead of his mind, he usually loses. And when he loses, he loses big.
Over the years, he has found his ability to not age is tied to being close to the Mississippi River. He left for New York after the War ( that one in the 1860's ), and found after a couple of years that he was aging normally. When he returned to the Delta, he stopped aging again. Since that he has not left for any extended periods.
Lucky's troubles stem from both his gambling habits and his weakness for longshots. Many years of bad bets have left his markers in the hands of many in St. Louis and, for those with longer memories, in cities up and down the Mississippi. When faced with a sob story from those oppressed by the more powerful, he is always willing to lend his "expertise" to level the playing field. This actually provides a greater adrenaline rush than the gambling.
