Ed "Black Jack" King

From Changeling Venue

This character is dead

Seeming	Ogre Stonebones
Court	Summer Court •••
Freehold
Player	Sean

1 This character is dead
2 Overview
3 Character Information

Quite Rage

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Overview

Alias(es): Black Jack

Real Name: Edward Joseph King

Age: 45

Concept: Quite Rage

Physical description: Battle worn skin that looks something like a cross between leather and stone At 5'6 and 200lb you would not think that he was anything more than a fit man in his late 40's

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Character Information

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Known History

Black Jack is simply a quiet thug who helps people "disappear". This is no place for a Gladiator. Black Jack was a great Pit Fighter. He meant something there. Here he is just a hired a thug. He misses the roar of the crowd and the rewards when he won a match.

King, born Edward Joseph King in 1962 in Queens NY had a almost text book blue collar dysfunctional Childhood. King's childhood was hard and brutal from the fights at school to the fights with his step father. at the age of 13 he had already broken his nose twice and been detained by the police for assault. Before the fighting started his mother raised him alone, his real father, A cop, was killed in the line of duty. His mother raised him to be a good boy and do the right thing. She taught him to be kind to girls and never disrespect his family. When his mother passed away when he was 6 from the cancer that ate her lungs King's step father took him in. The brutality started almost as soon as he walked in the door. It did not take long before King began to fight back. Thou king was not the biggest he was very strong, both in body and in his will to stand up to any challenge. at 16 Kings step father more drunk that usual came at King with a knife. In a flash of movement king was left with a scar from hair line to chin pausing only once to save from destroying his left eye. With his new scar King also found freedom from the man that had hardened his fists and his heart. King's step father lay dead at his feet in a pool of deep red that seemed to shimmer in the sickly neon light of the small kitchen.

From there King's life was simple he joined a street gang and found work as a collection man, he had few enemies and even fewer friends. He soon found that the rest of the gang had stated Calling him "Black Jack" for his fondness of the only card game his simple mind could keep track of. Having never gotten very far in school there was nothing more King could do but fight and he did. He soon stopped collecting money for the mob and let himself fall into the world of bare knuckles fighting. With fighting came a level of fame that King thrust for. When he would win the crowd loved him, people would swarm around him just to shake his calloused blood soaked hands. Even women that would normally turn up there noses at the sight of him would show affection to him as long as he kept winning. The crowed seemed to drive him and he loved them for it, the more blood that hit the ground to louder the crowd got. The louder the crowd got the more blood thirsty King became. Black Jacks master found him in a back alley street fight in south Bronx in the late 80s. His masters name was never know to him, only that he had hand picked King for his fierce rage and seemingly endless stamina. Kings master was looking for a new pit fighter seeing as his last fighter was now feeding his dogs. The nameless Fae offered King fame and power along with the promise of good treatment, he offered him a simple life. If he wins in the pit, life would be good. King did not know that He would never again know the touch of soft skin. In fact this would be the last time King would see the sun for the next 20 years.

It did not take long for the pit to shape and mold king into a fierce and dangerous opponent, he grew in power as the memories of another life faded away. King was like no other fighter the pit had ever seen at only 5'6 and 200lb he seemed to almost dance around the other fighters. It was at this point his master lost him to another Fae in a bet. And this began a circle that would start with King changing hands and undergoing training in the Fae's favored stile of fighting he would fight for a while under the Fae and then be traded or sold to the next Fae and the circle would begin again. He has mastered a fighting stile like no other during his time in the pit fights fast and final. The style is called Keysi, it involves being in close to the opponent and using elbows, knees, fists and head in what can only be described as feral precision. What is left of his opponent is a twisted broken mass with little chance of living out the night let alone walking right again. King enjoyed is life the crowds of people calling out his name the smell of dirt, blood and sweat. He did not mind being traded or sold just so long as he could continue to fight in the pit. The last time King was sold he was moved by caravan to a remote corner of the hedge. the caravan moving him to his new masters home was ambushed by a band of privateers looking for things to sell and trade in the goblin market, what they did not count on was that the cargo was King and King was loyal to his masters, VERY loyal, after killing three of the attackers in a grotesque display of wet crunches and muffled screams the rest fled into the hedge. Enraged by the desecration of his new masters things and still thirsty for blood King gave chase. Wondering the hedge looking for his would-be attackers King found himself lost and alone, with no direction King wandered becoming more and more desperate for any attention. A month passed and he was no closer to finding the people that had attacked him or anyone ells, he was pitted against a new opponent, solitude. For the first time in kings life he was alone, and for the first time in his life he felt fear. More time passed and King found himself in a clearing with the sweet smell of meat in the air, he had found a goblin traveling bazaar, This was kings first real look at the world around him. He had never seen so many people not gambling on who was going to die next. Thou King was surrounded by people he still felt the cold chill of loneliness, without the pit King would have to learn how to interact with real people. Without the pit King is just a thug, without the pit King is nothing.

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