Jethro Watkins

Description:

Nature: Survivor
Demeanor: Gambler
Concept: Bouncer/Wilderness Enthusiast
Primary Virtue: Zeal
Creed: Defender

PHYSICAL:
Str: 3
Dex: 2
Sta: 4 (Tough as Hell)

SOCIAL:
Cha: 2
Man: 2
App: 2

MENTAL:
Per: 4 (Sudden Movement)
Int: 1
Wits: 2

TALENTS:
Alertness: 3
Athletics: 1
Awareness: 1
Brawl: 2
Dodge: 2
Intimidation: 2

SKILLS:
Drive: 1
Firearms: 4 (Called Shot)
Melee: 2
Stealth: 2
Survival: 3

KNOWLEDGES:
Finance: 1
Medicine: 1
Occult: 2

EDGES:
Ward [defense]
Rejuvenate [defense]

VIRTUES:
ZEAL: 3

BACKGROUNDS:
Arsenal: 2
Resources: 2
Iron Willed: 3
Contacts: 1 (Carlo: Club Owner)

CONVICTION: 8
WILLPOWER: 8

MERITS:
Firearms License +2
Acute Sense (sight) +1
Hollow Leg +1
Good Night Vision +2

FLAWS:
[undisclosed] -2
Uninsured -2
Vice (alcohol) -2

DESCRIPTION:
Long chin, big nose and ears, thin but athletic frame
Clothes: Brown cargo pants, olive green shirt, army surplus jacket, brown fatigue hat.

AGE: 30
RACE: CAUCASION
NATIONALITY: AMERICAN
HAIR: BROWN
EYES: BROWN
HEIGHT: 6’4
WEIGHT: 200lbs.

Bio:

I was born and raised in the backwoods of Mississippi by my eccentric grandfather, Otis, who owned the local bar downtown, and when I say downtown i mean the mile long strip of road that has a gas station and grocery store on it. I suppose it wasn’t such a bad thing for us given that the only thing the people in that shitty town had to do was to go out drinking every night.

When I was growing up, I’d spend my days out in the woods with Otis hunting, trapping, and learning how to run the bar. Otis was a crazy old bushwhacker who spent more time living out in the woods than he did at home. Every weekend we’d go out duck hunting and trapping and all the while I’d be listening to his tall tales of bigfoots, swamp things, and other crazy creatures he thought were lurking out in the deep woods somewhere. I don’t believe in that much now, but as a kid it sure scared me enough to keep me on my toes when we’d be out on a tree stand deer hunting. Every time a rabbit would dart out or a deer would start moving through the bush line, there’d always me a moment where I could hear my heartbeat over the sound of the grasshoppers. I never would’ve thought that sitting up in a tree could be so thrilling and for a good part of my teenage years, I thought I’d be completely content in living in those woods like Otis did.

I wasn’t too good at keeping in line when I was a teenager and I found myself getting in trouble with the law about as often as I’d skip class to go out shooting. I figured I’d either build myself a shack in the woods and live off the grid or end up running that damn bar my whole life anyhow, so I dropped out and got right to it soon as I could, I was pretty content for the first couple of years running the bar with Otis and dealing with the locals and the occasional bar fights but by the time I was 25, I was fed up with living in a small town, seeing the same people bitching about the same problems day after day, and although I still loved going out in the woods and roughnecking it, those woods had become just as routine as the lives of the local barflies and I realized that I needed a change, so I saved up for a few years and when I turned 30, I finally had enough enough to purchase a used van and afford living in the city while looking for work. After going on one last weekend hunt for big foot with Otis during the final week of deer season, I packed my gear and decided to head north to the city of Chicago. One of my regulars at the bar always talked about living there and luckily for me, one of his cousins was a landlord and she had a small apartment available.

It took awhile to get used to the new place and the lack of open space that I was used to. City life is much more fast paced and the people are much more irritable it seems, probably all the damn traffic. I found work as a bouncer for a club downtown and it’s a pretty strange crowd of people. The music is all electronic and the patrons all seem to be rather antisocial. Back home, people all knew each other and you couldn’t go a night without hearing everyone’s life story, but in this place you can’t hear much of anything over the music and the only people who appear to be having meaningful conversation are suit and tie business looking folk who mainly sit at the tables upstairs overlooking the stage and dance floor. It’s funny how living around millions of different people makes you more antisocial instead of the other way around but that’s how the people in this city are; it’s probably all the crime and crazy homeless people.

I’ve been working here for a good month and a half and there hasn’t been any rowdiness or anything close to a fight. The work’s dull but the music is growing on me and the hours are late, which is perfect for a night owl like myself. I asked the manager, Carlo, about becoming a bar tender so I’d feel more useful (and from what I’ve seen, they probably take home more in a 4 hour shift than I make all night) but he seemed to brush it off saying there weren’t any positions available at this time. I told him about my experience running my grandfather’s bar back home and he smiled a little and said he’d keep that in mind if he needed a new mixologist. Never heard that one before, I hope it doesn’t require a degree or something.

I’ve been hanging out with my landlord, Sofia, for about a month now. She’s one of the few people who can drink as much as I do and not become a complete mess. She’s from El Salvador and has dark braided hair with pink and green highlights and the cutest accent I’ve ever heard. She came to the club last Friday and ended up staying after hours helping me close up for the night, which the boss didn’t seem to mind at all. The three of us ended up drinking and talking about life until 5 in the morning, which was pretty cool. She told me about how her parents immigrated to the States when she was a child and how her father worked and saved until he finally saved enough to buy the apartment complex that I live in. He passed away while she was in college and left her the place in his will. She used the inheritance to make improvements and buy the other apartment building across the street. She majored in business management and does a real good job. After a few more drinks, We said goodbye to Carlo, who said he still had some work to take care of and Sofia ended up spending the night at my apartment; I’m glad I cleaned the house before work. When I woke up today, Sofia was already up and making breakfast, which was pretty cool. I love her independent spirit and she’s very beautiful and caring, which seems to be a rare combination of traits in this city. Most of the good looking women I’ve met are either self absorbed or very high maintenance and she’s nothing like that. We have a good thing going and I intend on keeping it that way.

Jethro Watkins

Strange Bedfellows roninheart19