John Newcomb

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John has always been a talker, not a fighter. Did I say John I meant Jim or Zeke or Bradly or Reverend Colliver or Dr. Jorde or any of a number of names and faces he has had throughout his life. He started life, as many do, at a young age learning from his mother and then the schoolmarm, working the land with his father. His family had headed west early right after the quake but never made it. Stopping in the Oklahoma planes they put down roots and started farming, selling to settlers and ghost rock hounds that came after them; headed for California and riches or ruin. John, we will stick with John for now as it is the latest name he's using, grew up listening to their stories, wishes, and hopes. It is no wonder that at 13 he ran away to follow them himself.

While the story that his father had sent for him managed to get him to the maze it didn't feed him once he was there. A month on a maze runner convinced him that life on the seas and between the towering pillars of rock was not for him. Jumping ship in Shan Fran he told himself that in the last 30 days he'd done 6 months' worth of work and since that was the agreed-on wage he deserved it. Talking the purser into it was much easier than he expected as well. So an adult at 14 he had some walking around money and an inflated idea of his own intelligence, a sure sign of great things to come. Come they did in the form of Madam Zorastion heir of Nostradamus and spiritual medium. A rather large woman born Sally Mayweather of London below the high street.

She took pity on the boy with far too much money and helped him spend it, but was kind enough to give him a job after. She would be his third, and he would say greatest, teacher. She taught him the elements of the grift, how to cold read a mark, what it means when they start getting antsy, and last but not least when to take the money and run. She also introduced him to Hoyle a friend he would take solace in from that time forward. Madam Mayweather was an old-school huckster, still using tarot cards. She incorporated hexs into her readings to cause things like the table to rise or the candles to flare up strictly low-risk stuff, she would never touch more powerful magics; at least that she showed him.

John parted ways with her after a number of years, now an older man he was besat with wanderlust again, and the end of the rail wars provided the perfect opportunity to travel east! Running scams and short-term grifts he worked his way back across the country headed for the big cities of the east, the north depressed him, to close together, too little space, good money but too many people. Heading south the remains of the war, the devastation of the cities shocked him. The people still going on and rebuilding were inspiring to him he developed a bit of a conscience seeing how people were helping and supporting each other. From then on he would only steal from those who could afford to lose it.

New Orleans was a joy, no devastation, plenty of rich marks, and a culture rich in magic; The nightlife wasn't bad either. His stay there ended all too abruptly as it was made clear to him that his education in magic was sorely lacking in breadth when something peeled it's skin off in front of him and told him to get out of town if he wanted to keep his skin on his bones. That leads us to the present day now older, if not old, and wiser, if not wise, he has wandered into Brimstone no clear purpose in mind yet but the smell of money is in the air and it has never led him wrong yet.