309 - Old Joe

Unnatural Entity: Old Joe

In life Joe's name was Koenraad Strauss, he anglicised it when he emigrated from Germany to the U.S in 1858. This was less out of desire for acceptance than the fact he'd been left holding the bag on a series of robberies in his homeland and was wanted for murder. In much the same way as he'd been a day late and a dollar short in avoiding betrayal by his old gang he missed the heyday of the California gold rush by a few years.

Undetered, the newly minted Joe staked a claim in one of the most inhospitable parts of the stake and got to digging. He reasoned that by this point the best deposits were in places no one would willingly go. In his case he was wrong. Hardship and mishap plagued Joe from day one, but instead of yielding he took every misfortune as confirmation of his theory. Doubling, then tripling down on his initial investment as his fixation proved ever more fruitless. Isolation and sunk cost turned to madness and eventually Joe died out there, reduced to stringy meat and leather by the sun drenched land.

For a while the shapeless hunger of his unfulfilled certainty stewed and chewed upon itself in the trackless wilderness, alighting upon lost wanderers who then met their end scrabbling in the underground darkness for a payoff that never comes. Joe is geographically bound, peevish of his claim and magickally dependent on it (his Urge depletes at 1% per day he spends elsewhere, recovering at the same rate) but a quirk of his demonic nature gives the fruits of his labour a tangible benefit. The bones of those who die in his mines undergo an alchemical transformation at the moment of passing, becoming laced with the gold he craves. About 5 and a half ounces a head, all told.

This amounted to little more than the gradual accumulation of death and tainted lucre until a hiking/cave blog's sudden attention sent college kids and ramblers to the site in droves.  Curious about the groups that are too many to possess at a time Joe is formulating a plan. One that involves hostages, blackmail, bribery with gold-veined femurs and a steady stream of victims lured by his agents to finally dig up the prize that's hidden  down there somewhere. It has to be, he knows it in his bones.

Old Joe, Demonic Prospector
Urge: Gooold! 65%