Baroque Thumbs

Carmine "Thumbs" Javrotti

Background

Synopsis: Ex-muscle, gun runner, straightforward brick of a man. As said of Marv, he'd fit perfectly on some medieval battlefield. A local boy forever, he'll live and die on these streets, and knows it. Also knows that Baroque is a rough place to have dreams, because the city will choke the life out of them, if it can.

Sells guns to all takers, without much ethical quandry, because he knows they'll get them anyway, and this way, they won't blow up in the buyer's face. A holdover from the pre-mask days, he's much more comfortable with gimmickless mobsters than the current face of crime - one of the reasons he's stepped out of the business to a large degree. That, and he felt he wasn't rising fast enough.

He's starting to feel his age - mentally, if not physically - an ol' timer, in the privacy of his own head, and that has a lot to do with the changing world. He's not afraid of this, because largely, he knows he's far more likely to get a viking swansong than a slow slip into retirement.

But he's moving along. He's got time, and there's still beer to be drunk, fights to get into, and broads to cozy up with at night. He lives straightforward and directly - and expects everyone else to live the same way. He does unto others, as he would have them do unto him - which means fighting them to the death if they get in his face.

Appearance & Style: He's a jacket and slacks kinda guy. Suits are too upmarket for him generally - but he feels a man should wear a coat. Favours maroons, greys, olive greens and blacks. Wears a drivers cap, most of the time, with a thinning grey crew-cut underneath it. Starting to get a slight sag around the midsection these days, but its not slowing him down. Nose spread across his face from numerous breaks, jutting chin, sloping forehead. Broad smiles, with chipped teeth, but that doesn't stop him. Long scar across his hairline. That special "Frank Miller" quality of old, where despite the fact he's pushing late middle age, he's the most dangerous man on the table. Huge hands. Ex-Super Heavyweight Prize Fighter, about 6"6, with the muscle mass to match. A collection of old bruises, scars and bullet wounds that most people don't see. Tatoo on his upper arm with 'Maria' on it, which he doesn't speak about.

Skills:

• Great (+4): Endurance
• Good (+3): Fists, Intimidation, Might
• Fair (+2): Resolve, Drive, Alertness, Guns, Athletics,
• Average (+1): Burglary, Gambling, Stealth, Empathy, Weapons

Aspects:

Been around forever Thumbs is a Baroque icon. He's been arrested more times than he can count, knows everyone of a certain class and isn't without notoriety. Invoked to know people and places, to remember and be remembered. Compelled to be punished for it - hated by someone for a long-ago grudge, owing a debt never forgotten, or just too damn old and tired.

Gotta Hold On Ta Something Thumbs has survived in Baroque, a city with a mortality rate beyond the wildest dreams of statisticians and a suicide rate almost as bad. He knows that what this city wants to take from you is your dreams. Once you lose those, you're gone. It's just a matter of time. So he holds onto the little victories, and his own personal ambitions, small though they are. And he thinks everyone else should do the same. Invoked to give him inspiration. Compelled to give him rage and despair.

I Am What I Am Thumbs admits he's walked the line, but he thinks of himself as at least trying to be a moral man. It's an old fashioned code of ethics, from what he thinks of as a simpler time. He hates to lie, and is absolutely no good at it. He swears, but tries to watch it around what he thinks of as 'ladies' - he knows dames in the neighbourhood curse worse than him. He disapproves of drugs, won't take 'em, won't sell 'em - but drinks like a fish and smokes cheap cigarettes. He's honourable (after a fashion) and dependable - if he says he'll do something, he'll do it, or die trying. Aside from that, he leaves the more complex ethical questions up to others. If he thinks something's bad, and he can do something about it, he'll stop it. If not, he'll pass on the word, but leave it alone. Won't allow him to tolerate people like the Cheshire Cat and the Red Queen, whereas he's uneasily okay with a lot of the Cammorae.

Man of Violence His main problem is violence. He's not even a particularly angry man - he just lacks a sense of propensity, or any kind of sensitivity to death. He doesn't attempt to kill with particular style, but if he wants you gone, you'll be gone. To bring him a few steps closer to his desired outcome, he'll throw a guy through a wall without thinking. It doesn't really occur to him that extreme violence is any kind of problem, as long as its straightfoward. He wouldn't kill someone to rob them, because he thinks of that as dishonest, but would probably grab something off them if he'd been going to kill them anyway.

Family Man Thumbs doesn't know it, but particularly with these people over the last few years, he's given up on the idea of being alone. After spending most of his time with these people, he's developed an ironclad loyalty to them. He doesn't speak about it, and they don't ask, but they're the closest thing he's got in this life to his children (as far as he knows). Invocation and compelling should be obvious.

Worked Both Sides Thumbs has been muscle for the Maronis, and a bouncer against them. He's a known associate of Paul Revenge, but he's still an active if minor arms dealer. He's got four citations for public bravery, and a long felonies list. Contradictions abound. Invoked to claim experience and connections in the criminal underworld and police department. Compelled to claim experience and connections on the wrong side of the criminal underworld and police department.

Stunts:

• One Hit to the Body [Endurance]
• Thick Skinned [Endurance]
• Man of Iron [Endurance]
• Now You've Made Me Mad[Endurance]
• Crippling Blow [Fists]

Relationships:

CHARACTER RELATIONSHIPS

K - Me and K. I tell ya, I don't care if half the shit they say about her [I]is[/I] true, there ain't no other way to say it, she's like the kid I never had. I'd never tell her that, 'cause the last thing she needs is a sentimental old man crowdin' her - but I'm proud. A fighter's gotta know his advantages, and I know she's got it on me in spades. That brain o' hers is gonna keep her on top every time - and she's always come through in the right way.

Alexei Rovana - I didn't like this kid at first. Too fuckin' wordy. All style, no substance. A pro, sure, but you can't trust guys who get that close that fast. They're plannin' somethin'. Anyhow, we got caught in Madam Kosta's down in Hawksmoor, when that eclipse thing happened. End o' the night, he and I got through. Then the Bishop came along, and my comeback fight. Kid went to the wall for me every time - and I'd do the same for him.

Salil - I never liked all that Voodoo shit. I mean, I know its around, and that's dandy - but leave it to the professionals, eh? Until the Circle. Until those cult fucks tried to jones our lives six ways from Sunday. Now I see what he's doin', it's important. I sure as hell still don't like it, but I respect it. Most of the time we stay out of each others business. It's all jawing and kicking back, but when I do get involved I try to make sure he don't run into no walls when he's chasin' his ghosts and vamps.

Paul Revenge - Man knows the fuckin' PD ain't looking out for no-one but their own interests as a whole - but Revenge? He's out there, doin' his thing, week to week. We've shared a beer, a time or two. Now, I don't inform - but you hear about those boys who Father Aaronson took up with? Paul Revenge sorted that out - and that's worth a lotta points.

Eddie the Angel - What is it about mouthy smooth fellas like him? 99 times out of a hunnerd, I want nothin' more than to send 'em to the mattresses, but the hunnerdth, we end up pals for life. And he's a fuckin' RAITH too. I remember when his grandpappy used to come down to the fights, watch us cut each other down like we was animals. Expression on his face, sayin' there ain't no glory to the fighter. No passion. We was just playthings to him. But Eddie. Him and his camera. Always makes me smile. No wonder everyone likes him.

OTHER PERSONAL CONNECTIONS

Trina O'Reilly and her daughters, Prudence and Sharon. His old lady landlord. A pleasant, motherly Irish Catholic lady, who sometimes leaves him hot dinner plates outside his door. Everyone knows he's very protective of them. The two daughters live in a dangerous neighbourhood, and he tries to keep them from getting too fucked around by it.

Carlysle Withersport. His ex-manager. English very posh and proper, but nevertheless, a pal. Lives up in Raith, out of Thumb's usual haunts, but knows a lot of good fighters come out of this area, and still runs a gym down here. Full of reminiscing about the old days - and Thumbs knows boxing is a night game, so who cares where he gets to during the daytime.

Steady Eddie, a local drunk, he often slips food, booze or cash to, depending on his resources and mood. Eddie's a veteran, and fought against the White Martians, a damn war America didn't belong in, that cost the lives of some good kids. Stalemate is a black mark on this country's record.

Worked for the Maronis. Considers himself 'out', but you know the old saying. They've been content to leave him alone thus far, which he's grateful for, but realises that doing them a 'favour or two' might still be good practice. Besides, he's got a lot of good pals at the organisation.

He gets his guns from the Jade Mirror (albeit indirectly) and although he's not part of their organisation, he still likes Lao Tam, and would help him out as a favour, if the tugboat pilot ever realised that he'd be entitled to ask

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