In His Shadow
AKA Norma-Jean, Malkavian southern belle
Childer: Gertrude Strauss
STRENGTH:1 DEXTERITY:2 STAMINA:3
CHARISMA:3 MANIPULATION:3 APPEARANCE:3
PERCEPTION"careful":4 INTELLIGENCE"book knowledge":4 WITS:2
AWARENESS:3 EMPATHY:1 INTIMIDATION:3 LEADERSHIP:3 SUBTERFUGE:2
DRIVE:1 ETIQUETTE:3 FIREARMS:1 SURVIVAL:2
ACADEMICS:2 INVESTIGATION:2 MEDICINE:2 OCCULT"rituals":4 POLITICS:3
DISCIPLINES: Auspex-0 Dominate-2 Thaumaturgy-3
BACKGROUNDS: Mentor-2(Violetta) Status-1 Resources-2
VIRTUES: Conscience-4 Self-Control-4 Courage-3
SWAG: Beeper, pin, 38 special, Tactical knife, Phosphorous Rounds, Flak Jacket, White ribbon, Chevrolet Celebrity
RITUALS: Illuminate Trail of Prey(1) Blood Walk(2) Eyes of the Night Hawk
SHANTRY: 312 Fancy Lane Boulevard
Tracy Graves- unhappy with me
Violetta- current mentor willing to teach Path of Flame
Nicolai Antonescu- vying for princedom, noted my presence after doll cult information
Hair: Silver grey
Nationality: Western European
Duecallion has been a life-long student of the occult for as far back as he could remember in the days for mortality. As a child he spent his youth in tow of his paternal grandfather. Going state to state, some little understood country to the next. Never quite sure why or knowing where they were heading, coming from or searching for. But searching they were. He’d heard others call his Grandfather Jaoxith or “Jack” upon occasion; acquaintances all, some old some young even to Duece’s youthful eyes. No two ever really the same but they all spoke the tongue. Of some society he is sure they were all members of but of who? for what? was never explained, neither was the tongue they spoke taught to Duecallion. What was taught was knowledge, of things long past, long forgotten, little understood in the modern era.
Grandfather had secrets of this Duecallion is certain. Strong dark secrets he seemed frightful of, taking seemingly unnecessary and odd precautions when they traveled and where they slept. This nomadic lifestyle came to an abrupt end in early 1940’s when grandfather became increasingly agitated he talked top himself repeatedly that “they” were making moves in the chaos of war. This was when Duece was received by whom he assumed at the time to be an aunt of some sort, at a lonely train station in Virgina. Grandfather told me he was needed in the Netherlands and would come collect me when this “business calmed down”. He never did.
From then out Duecallion was referred to simply as “D” by Aunt Betsy. She was a kind woman and encouraged book learning and education. “Best to look to your own future then worry about that old quack” she would exclaim. But the seeds of his early upbringing would never really leave. He pursued knowledge of his times abroad and try to crack the mysteries of his youth through his education. He studied the old things in the libraries and museums attending college to become and archivist. Being hired on at Princeton University as a night archivist in his early twenties “D” would hold the position for decades never making much impression on his colleagues due to his dour nature and brash interests; they couldn’t know what he knew. There was a bigger picture under the surface and he had touched it as a child. He searched the libraries and basements for clues but found many dead ends, and ended up with more questions than answers.
Till one fateful night the search stopped. Answers came in the form of terror. “I’ve seen you search Duecallion, you don’t know what your looking for but i can pull you through the looking glass”. The fateful voice sounded through the dusty corridors as he ate his meal late that night a woman’s voice, it emanated power and deep knowing, he was drawn to it. Grabbed from behind with greater strength than the old man had himself a small slim knife was drawn across the back of his hand as he gripped the arm than held him; he heard her taste it. “I’ve been where you’ve been see what mysteries they wouldn’t share with a young lad, too young to grasp what it meant”. “you’ll see know, I’ll help show you”. Teeth sank deep into Duecallion’s neck she was pulling his life away into her own, the woman dropped him and knelt beside, drew the small knife to her wrist and clenched her hand again and again over his mouth. “It is done, you are mine, a new life starts, an unlife”.