The Cities of Eternal Fog
- Name : Draxton
- Virtue : Fortitude
- Vice : Gluttony
- Clan : Mekhet
- Bloodline : ???
- Covenant : Unaligned
- Embrace : 1987
- Apparent age : Early Forties
- Humanity : 7
- Blood potency : 1
- Vitae/per turn : 10/1
- Mental attributes : Intelligence 3, Wits 3, Resolve 3
- Physical attributes : Strength 2, Dexterity 2, Stamina 2
- Social attributes : Presence 2, Manipulation 2, Composure 3
- Mental skills : Academics 1, Investigation 3 (Finding Evidence)
- Physical skills : Athletics 1, Drive 2 (Tailing), Firearms 1, Larceny 2, Stealth 3 (Shadowing), Weaponry 1
- Social skills : Empathy 2, Persuasion 3 (Silver-Tongue), Streetwise 3, Subterfuge 3
- Merits : Shared Haven 2, Resources 2, Contacts 2, Danger Sense, Eidetic Memory, Iron Stamina
- Disciplines : Auspex 2, Obfuscate 3
- Equipment : Kevlar Vest (1/2), Police Baton (2 B), Beretta 92 (2)
- Discipline (Obfuscate 2 – 10 EXP)
- Skill (Drive 2 – 6 EXP)
- Skill Specialty (Drive [Tailing] – 3 EXP)
- Discipline (Obfuscate 3 – 15 EXP)
- Skill (Weaponry 1 – 3 EXP)
- Skill (Firearms 1 – 3 EXP)
- (Total EXP: 58 – EXP spent: 40 = EXP available: 18)
Draxton led a complicated, unfulfilling life, even before he was Embraced. He was a born trouble-maker, always sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, peeking in windows, reading his sister’s diary, and generally being a nuisance to everyone around him.
Unable to hold a steady job in any of the usual paper-pushing, cubicle-jockey environments, Draxton figured if he was going get into trouble, he might as well get paid for it. So he became a private investigator. As it turned out, he was more of a voyeur and black-mailer than a legitimate investigator, but that never bothered him.
Originally from St. Louis, Draxton doesn’t offer much about how he ended up in San Fran, or the more intimate aspects of his former life.
Draxton’s job doesn’t differ much from what he did before his Embrace, although the kinds of things he sees while peeking through windows are far more gruesome and terrifying than before. However, it cannot be denied that Draxton is good at what he does. Reticent to pledge allegiance to any particular covenant for fear of alienating potential clients, he has thus far managed to keep himself from becoming so reviled by one sect that they wouldn’t put aside past injustices to hire him. His mercenary sensibility and unique skill set has led him to a comfortable, if not luxurious, place in the kindred world.
If it looks like Draxton is 20 years behind the fashion curve, it’s probably because he is. Embraced in 1987, he just never got around to keeping up with the trends. Turned at the tender young age of 40, Draxton’s black hair is already thin and in a perpetual state of limbo, somewhere between carefully parted and frayed mess, matching the usual patchy layer of stubble on his face. His physique is unimpressive, as he is below average in height, and although he has a naturally thick build, signs of love-handles and a budding second chin are apparent. He generally wears oversized polo shirts of varyingly offensive color combinations and patterns, slacks, and a dark gray nylon flight jacket. He also sports a pair of thick glasses, with a bulky, clear plastic frame.
While he is capable of occasional bouts of charm or grace, Draxton is, for the most part, a smartass. He prefers to take the unconventional route, which can often land him in trouble. Sarcastic, creative, perversely insightful, and curious to no end. He is also an avid smoker (and prefers to feed on those who share his love of nicotine). This, as he proclaims, is not so much from the enjoyment one might derive from it, but to “rub it in the faces of those people who told me cigarettes would kill me…”