Requiem for the West
Nathraichean 'Nathan' Keane
Intelligence 1/ Wits 4/ Resolve 2
Strength 1/ Dexterity 4/ Stamina 3
Presence 1/ Manipulation 2/ Composure 4
Willpower – 6
Morality – 5
Weakness: 1 extra level of damage from fire and sunlight.
Blood Potency – 1
Investigation 4/ Occult 2/ Crafts 1
Athletics 2/ Firearms 1/ Stealth 3 (Obfuscate)/ Weaponry 4 (Swordcane x2)/Larceny 1/ Survival 1
Empathy 2/ Socialize 1/ Streetwise 1
Obfuscate 3/ Auspex 1/ Celerity 2
Ambidexterous 3/ Resources 2/ Fencing 2/Quick Draw (melee) 1/ Two Weapon Fighting 3/ Fighting Finesse (Sword Cane) 2/ Quick Draw 1 (firearms)
Experience spent: 50/ Experience earned: 50
5 – Celerity 1
5 – Quicken Sight
2 – Quick Draw (melee)
2 – Quick Draw (firearms)
12 – Two Weapon Fighting 3
3 – Larcency 1
5 – Obfuscate 1
6 – Fighting Finesse 2
10 – Celerity 2
Born to a dirt poor family in Ireland in 1820, Nathraichean grew up in squallor. His father was a poor farmer – in both skill and money – and his mother stayed at home during the day, raising the family of his 4 older brothers and himself, and went out whoring at night in the nearby town to get whatever coin she could to support her family.
One night, when he was 12 and the only child still living and/or at home, Nathan’s mother did not come home from the town….and didn’t return for 5 nights. His father, furious and drunk, marched into town with his youngest son in tow, looking for vengeance upon his whore of a wife or the mark that killed her. When he found her, it did not go as he planned.
Nathraichean, or Nat as he called himself, noticed it first: his mother was different. Colder, more pallid. Her voice sounded different, she looked upon them more like food than family…and had no reflection. He panicked, and at that time, his mother struck out at his father with inhuman speed, pinning him up against a wall and biting him…draining him dry before discarding him. As she turned to face Nathan, he heard a voice behind him stating, “Spare this one…he has promise…now look into my eyes young man…”
As Nat spun around, he saw an older gentleman, leaning on a cane, and looking every bit the uppercrust citizen…with a roiling beast simmering just beneath. As they made eye contact, and the man’s voice rang out to him, Nat’s memories of the event altered… it was not his mother that did this, but a drunken soldier whom his father picked a fight with and was killed for the trouble; his mother would find him in the house by himself, and take him in for their new life in the city with her new master.That night, Nat’s life changed. He spent the next 13 years honing his skills of observation and detection in the city, working in Mr Allerton’s household as his errand boy and clandestine spy. On his 25th birthday, the veil was lifted, and he was given a choice: become a night stalker, or die a peaceful death as a human. The choice was made for him by his ageless mother. That night, he became a Shadow.
His tutelage began in earnest, skulking about the streets of Dublin, learning the ways of vampirekind. After a disagreement with his mother and Mr Allerton regarding Nat’s refusal to join their covenant and became a member of the Lancea Sanctum, Nat took the long slumber in a cargo ship bound for the United States. He arrived in New York in 1861….as the country was enveloped in Civil War. The mortals, and the vampires commanding them, fought with great fervor. Nathraichean found a niche working with the Northern alliance of vampires, utilizing his toolset to track down and mark enemy vampires.
After the war, Nathraichean’s skills were no longer in as high demand, and he drifted aimlessly from city to city, ending up in Chicago. It was then that he heard the call about the blood hunt of the most vile vampiric war criminals of the Civil War heading west…and the bounty on their head.