The Nomad's Vigil
Knight of the South
Name: Hollis Wheeler
Mental Attributes: Intelligence 2, Wits 2, Resolve 4
Physical Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 2, Stamina 1
Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 2, Composure 3
Mental Skills: Academics 3 (history), Investigation 1, Medicine 1, Occult 2
Physical Skills: Athletics 1, Brawl 1, Drive 1, Firearms 3 (US Army issue), Survival 1, Weaponry 2 (sabre)
Social Skills: Animal Ken 1 (horses), Empathy 1, Expression (speech) 3, Intimidation 2 (staredown), Persuasion 2, Socialize 2, Subterfuge 1
Merits: Inspiring 4, Professional Training 3, Resources 2, Language (French) 1, Professional Contacts 3 (soldiers, Southern aristocracy, Pentagon)
Weapons: Colt M1911 .45 Pistol Officer Grade: Dice Mod 3, 30/60/120 7+1 1s, Str 3. FMJ.
Colt 1851 Navy Revolver: Dice Mod 3, 25/50/100, 5, 2/J, Str 2. Hollow-points.
1867 Issue Cavalry Sabre: 2/L, Size 2/L
Remington 500 Pump-Action Shotgun loaded with buckshot: 4/L (9 again), 20/40/80, 5+1, Str 3, +1 damage at close range, x2 Armor
Telescopic Pistol Sight (half range penalty at long range)
Mine is an old story, the oldest story, I suppose, it’s one about fathers and sons.
I grew up in a land soaked in history, it grows from the trees and the fields. Rivers run with it. Boulders are heavy and cold with it. Towns whisper with it. You can’t escape history in Virginia, it can’t be done. I couldn’t.
When I was in the service, in that little forsaken corner of Europe that gets a different name every generation, I understand it’s “The Balkan Region” nowadays, it caught up with me. History, that is, not the Balkans. I beg your pardon.
It doesn’t matter, really, what I saw there. What I saw when I came back home was far worse, though like a column of soldiers advancing under a full moon it was a horror wrapped in beauty. It spoke and was charming, so unlike the things I saw in the woods of Croatia, so calm in his fortitude, so self-assured. Though I could see by the Man’s radiance the rottenness within the creature, like an apple gone sour. It killed my father, you know.
But could that dissuade me? How could it, sir? My father and his stretching back to the War…
I cannot abstain from this. I cannot. I will not. It is my duty. And as the Man, the Marble Man himself once said it, it is duty that is the sublimest word in our language.
I can do no more.
I shall never do less.