Jacob "Jack" Ortega Baldwin

From Fate's Harvest
Jump to: navigation, search

Jacob "Jack" Ortega Baldwin
Nick cave 2.jpg
On Game As: Ashengard
Played By: Nick Cave
Concept: Wandering Lost
Date of Birth: 04 Dec 1989
Apparent Age: 25
Occupation: Cleaner
Virtue: Fortitude
Vice: Gluttony

Freehold: None
Motley: None

Seeming: Darkling
Kith: Tunnelgrub Hunterheart
Court: Autumn
Keeper: The Lord of Ashenvalley

He wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it — George Orwell

Good For Nothing, Nothing of Good


He was eight when he ran away from St. Genevieve’s Orphanage, eight and three months when Mr. Albuquerque gave him a job at his bodega doing stock work; eight and a half when the police eventually tracked him down and dumped Jacob back to the orphanage. Twelve when he got adopted, twelve and seven months when the family asked for their refund.

From then on a few more couples tried, they never got past the interview phase, Jacob wouldn’t let them; he was better off with what he knew and what he knew gave him freedom. He could endure Mrs. Westworth, her once brutal hands were going soft with age, he knew the routine of the convent well enough to sneak whenever he wanted – take a walk ‘round the city, workshop on getting some real chances at life, not vying for a rescue or a miracle that would never come.

His emancipation came when some buddies came to pick him up from the orphanage exactly at midday of his 21st birthday, saying their jolly good mornings to the nuns, cat-calling Jack until he got inside the damn car — a crowded, beaten down, red paint chipping off 83's Volkswagen Passat full of beer smelling punks — about to get that much crowded with his backpack of meager possessions and Jack's tall lanky self. Hooting their farewells and He never wants to see you again you hag! at nun Westworth, they peeled off down the streets of El Paso, a city Jack had decided he never wanted to be seen in again.

Somewhere, somehow, he'd make a name for himself and forget all about his meager beginnings.

That same week, he left for the open world, for some other place that did not remind him of Texas. After months of hitchhiking and living off of motels, Jacob found in Fort Brunsett — in working for the Alexander Family — the leverage he needed to make something for himself. By the age of 30, Jacob has not only an apartment or a job: he has contacts, he knows what goes on the streets instead of only being a pawn to its inner workings, more than anything he feels the city breathe in and exhale with every death, every deal, every smuggle made; he learns something new about his city. He has ownership of himself, he has Fort Brunsett by the goddamn balls.

He works as a cleaner.

Deals sometimes get fucked over, things get messy, someone needs to step in. Someone needs to make it all a disappearing act. Jacob is damn good at his job.

His wanderings persist though. He never took a test for a driver’s license, never owned a car, or a motorcycle. He owns a bike at most. Gets him where he needs to go and if he needs the tools for his job? Well, he never works alone anyway, his services are good enough his bosses don’t complain about his little eccentricity.

It was Autumn when he heard about it. It was Westworth, Abigail. God had finally decided to call back his little angel. Of course Jack went to the funeral. Paid his respects like a good Christian boy. Didn’t piss on her coffin, that’d be rude to the one person who had bothered to teach him anything about the world. Hell, that fuckin’ nun even drilled in some manners in him. Always burp in, never set your elbows on the dinner table, pull a chair for a lady (or your date-guy, he wasn’t picky) and always always pay your respects to the dead. God knows she’d wake up from her eternal slumber just to rip him open a new hole somewhere painful if Jacob didn’t say good-bye. She cared for him.

He couldn’t say he didn’t care for her back.

And so it was Autumn; way back in Texas where he promised he would never return (and yet, he took the time to make the trip back in honor of his primary caretaker had he not? A fuckin' Catholic paragon); when he wandered too far. When he found it. He was off-kilter drunk, took cheap whisky to drink at Westworth funeral – he wasn’t ‘bout to spend good alcohol on that hag – the walk back to the motel room he was staying was long but that’s how he usually liked it. He was free for another couple days 'till the Alexanders required him back in Fort Brunsett again, he could wander. And so, he did.

And went too far.


...Is the name he gives to those who ask. He doesn’t remember his own name, he has lost his voice.

But then again, he was always far more part of the environment he lived in than his own ego.

He used to be a people’s person, charismatic, a shifter capable of molding peoples' perception of him to something of his favor. Nowadays, he feels barely even human with a hunger and anger he always possessed, only deepened and made worse by Arcadia's enviroment. Ashengard had been wandering around El Paso - where he disappeared - for days before recalling a glimpse of his former life and making the long and difficult road back across the country to Fort Brunsett. He has just arrived (with a few stale granola bars and one freshly acquired fake ID), with no idea what to expect of the home he made for himself, nor the new life he will have to lead.


  • Abigail Westworth — nun of British heritage and Jack's primary caretaker
  • Alexander Family — employee
  • Mr. Albuquerque — stout grey haired and bearded Portuguese man with a mighty appetite and even mightier rap sheet
  • Petra Riley Green — a little fox he used to know, from somewhere else. Somewhere terrible that humans cannot abide. He wants to see her again


Dead Weight - PVRIS

If we start cracking at the center
I won't let it break
Hold it together through the weather, it's my DNA
So sick of being your giver
Throwing my soul away
All give, no take
Look what you started
You're turning me heartless
I'm trying my hardest
If I'm being honest
I can't take it over and over
Dead weight hanging off of my shoulder
Nothing changes I'm getting colder
Dead weight hanging off of my shoulders

To Be Alone - 5 Finger Death Punch

So tell me, how does it feel to know that no one is coming?
No one is running
When you hit the ground (you hit the ground)
How does it feel to know that no one's around you?
No one will be there
When you hit the ground (you hit the ground)
How does it feel?
How does it feel to be alone?

Here Come the Vultures - Delain

I once had an understanding that everything would go my way
But now we've come too far along for me to hold on to my own beliefs
I'm not in it for the fun of it but for the pain
I'm not at all interested in your temporary fame
I just want to see you stare
As I lay my soul bare for you
To crush upon with heavy feet
I'm in it for the beat
Stranger the faces
Stranger the places
They're becoming us
Here come the vultures
Here come the vultures
Heading over us

The Haunting - Kamelot

Somewhere in time
I will find you and haunt you again
Like the wind sweeps the earth
Somewhere in time
When no virtues are left to defend
You've fallen deep
I was a liar in every debate
I rule the forces that fuelled your hate
When the cold in my heart leaves
It comes to an end
And quietly I'll go to sleep

Other Worlds Than These - Starset

There are monsters in the sky
There are demons in the sea
I have seen them with my eyes
I've seen what you won't see
Pull the wool out from your eyes
It won't shade your frail belief
In the end we cannot hide
There are other worlds than these

Half God Half Devil - In This Moment

I won't pretend that I resist temptation
I think it's funny when you preach damnation
I've been to hell and back and now it's just a part of me
Without the darkness there'd be no light in me
I waged war in a fiery blaze
I found peace in a purple haze
My angels and my demons
They don't know their place
Ready or not
They're gonna come out and play


No logs have been posted yet.