Name: Charles Winston Winfield III Alias: Doc
PoB: Tacoma, Seattle DoB: September 8, 2033
Gender: Male Age: 27
Height: 5’9” Weight: 145 lbs
Hair: Sandy Blonde Eyes: Brown
Doc has a slight, swimmers build. His hair is shoulder length and sandy blonde, with a scraggly beard and mustache. He often wears jeans or khakis with a t-shirt, with a long, brown, trench coat. He wears a necklace of various colored beads of different materials. On this necklace are also three charms: one depicting a winged foot, a cadeuceus, a lightning bolt and a cameo. He wears a plain gold engagement ring (Force 3 – Armor Sustained Spell Focus) He walks with a barely noticeable limp, though it worsens as he moves faster.
Doc is a logical individual, and uses his knowledge and wits to problem solve. He is usually patient, and does not believe that violence is the only answer. Doc is a social liberal and believes in the tenets of the Universal Brotherhood, except for the stuff about the bugs. He also believes in ideas of social justice, tolerance and compassion. Doc is politically active and consistently votes for the One World Party, much to his father’s dismay.
Doc enjoys reading leftist authors and poets, particularly enjoying the works of Steinbeck, Neruda, Gibran, Dos Passos and Ginsberg. He is inspired by people such as Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr. and Che Guevera. He attends poetry slams and independent and experimental theatre. Doc enjoys listening to classical and world music. He prefers ethnic foods, particularly spicy ones. When it comes to drinking, some may consider him a lightweight; he has spent one too many hours fearing an abusive alcoholic to know the evils that heavy drinking can bring. He is allergic to cats. For exercise, he enjoys to jog and do yoga. He dislikes most professional competitive sports. Spiritually speaking, Doc has views that are largely Universal. He used to attend Presbyterian services, and the last one he attended was his mother’s funeral.
Madame Janeet- Talismonger, mother-in-law; operates the Mayadeva Center.
Dr Maroni- Former physician at University Hospital, and who now runs his own clinic, Reliable Health Care.
Walter McKinnon – Uncle, on mother’s side. Is a big wig on the Tacoma district council.
Charles Winfield – father
Susanna McKinnon Winfield – mother (deceased – May 18, 2045)
Walter McKinnon – Uncle
Elizabeth McKinnon – Aunt
Sitra Janeet / Dorothea Winfield- Spouse
Prisha Susanna Winfield- daughter
The Formative Years
I know my name may sound pretentious, but I am anything but. My father, Charles Winston Winfield II, really is called Chuck and as a kid, I was called Charlie. I would still prefer that to Charles. I come from the traditional blue collar class and lived in blue collar Tacoma. My mother, Sue, died when I was 12, of breast cancer. Before she died, she and I were very close, and I missed several weeks of school to care for her when she was near her end. My dad is still around, but we have drifted apart.
I have always known that there was something different about me. I have been prone to headaches my whole life, and sometimes when I would have them, I could blink my eyes, and when they were opened, I would see the world totally differently. As a matter of fact, I may have been the first person to notice my mother’s condition. One time, I distinctly remember telling her, “Mama, you are not as bright as you used to be”. She of course, took this as an insult, and grounded me. What I actually meant was that I was seeing her essence slowly diminishing.
People really began to think I was weird in the seventh grade. Honestly, before then, I wasn’t Mr. Popularity either, but things went from bad to worse. This bully, Marcus, started taunting me after school one day, making fun of the fact that my father was a drunk and that my mother had recently died. It went on for a couple of days, and finally, four days after it started, I had enough, and I took a swing at him. I wasn’t terribly coordinated, so I missed him, and lost my balance. He laughed at me, and punched me squarely in the stomach. I was doubled over, when he punched me in the face. The other kids had gathered around, and none of them were going to stop him from hurting me. The next time I took a swing at him, my punch squarely hit him in the face. Though ordinarily he would have brushed it off, this time I could tell he was in pain and instead of touching his face, he was clutching his chest. Marcus died on the spot. He had apparently suffered a heart attack.
One of the witnesses to the fight said that he saw mini lightning bolts come out of my fist when it connected. No one messed with me after that point. Rather than being considered a hero, I was considered a freak. The friends I did have stayed close to me, but making friends after that point was next to impossible. I started meeting with the school counselor after this and they realized that I had magic in my blood. Unfortunately, neither the school district nor my father could afford, nor wanted to help me any further.
After my mother’s death, my father went from being a social drinker to a downright alcoholic. I spent way too many afternoons and evenings sitting next to my father at the local taverns. These were seedy establishments, where no children should be. After one particularly bloody scene between Humanis Policlub and a couple of metas, I decided I no longer wanted to be around my father at these establishments. I would often stay home or go to the library instead. Often times when my father came home, he would act violently towards me, and sometimes I had to barricade myself inside a closet to escape him. I had no one to turn to for help. My Uncle Walter was too preoccupied with his career to care, and ignored me until I was accepted to college.
Despite my poor home life and my next to non-existent social life, I continued to do well in school. In high school, I joined the track and field team and became a long distance runner. I managed to score a decent scholarship to the University of Washington.
The College Years
I arrived at the University of Washington in Fall of 2051, class of 2055. When I entered college, I decided I wanted to become a teacher. I majored in English and Education. While at college, I met other people with similar magical talents, and soon had new friends. I had several roommates, most of which, I would prefer not to remember – the strange array of chipheads, druggies and frat boys. Yes, I did attend a few frat parties, but none of them thought I was good enough to pledge. My uncle encouraged me to pledge for his old fraternity, which he promised he could get me into – Iota Delta Psi, but their humans only policy and old money smell, turned me off. One roommate that I have communicated with after college is Logan Hammersmark, who I roomed with during my sophomore year. He no longer lives in the Seattle region, so we have not seen eachother since graduation, but exchange phone calls every several months.
The most significant friend I had in college was Sitra Janeet, a beautiful girl of Indian ancestry. Our friendship soon turned romantic, and she and I were steadily dating our Junior year. During our senior year, we had both been applying to graduate schools. By then, I realized that I no longer wanted to be a teacher, and instead was looking to study preventative medicine. I was accepted to the University of Seattle’s Medical School, but failed to receive any great scholarships. Sitra received a full scholarship to Stanford University, in CFS. She and I agreed that we would still be friends, and depending on how things went, we might reconnect after graduate school. Her mother, Madame Janeet, is a talismonger.
The Lean Years
At the University of Seattle Medical School, the stress became overwhelming. Besides going to class, I had a full time job at the local Joe’s Coffee Shop, and did my residency at University Hospital. The bills began to mount though, and my headaches became worse. At University Hospital, I interned with Dr Maroni. He was difficult to work with, but we got along well. By my third year, with only one to go, I was on academic probation, and lost my scholarships. The bills soon got too difficult to keep up with, and I was forced to drop out of school after the end of the first year. I still worked at the coffee shop there, and kept in contact with my friends.
As the Roman poet Sextus Propertius mused however, “Always toward absent lovers love’s tide stronger flows”, Sitra and I became closer over the miles. She would ride the Maglev to Seattle from San Francisco a couple of times a month so we could be together.
I began to concentrate more and more on my magical skills, and continued to visit Madame Janeet, meeting with various mages who met there. One time when I arrived at Madame Janeet’s though, I was greeted with terrible news. I learned that Sitra had died in a crossfire of bullets when a gunfight erupted at a local nightclub she had been at with her friends, just a couple of days after she had been up to visit me last – during which time I had proposed engagement at Gianelli’s and she had accepted. There was not enough of her left to hold a decent funeral.
I didn’t know what to do with my life at that time. I was deeply depressed and barely left my apartment. After several weeks, I returned to Madame Janeet’s place and continued my study. We would often share our memories of Sitra.
One night; when I arrived back at my apartment, 401 at the Renton Ambassador Suites in Renton, I overheard voices talking outside. Next thing you know, the local hellion comes careenining over the balcony. I back away, and go for some snacks at the nearby Stuffer Shack – I could always go for a package of “Meltdown” Chicharrones. When I get back to my apartment those newcomers are talking out on the balcony in front of my apartment. I introduce myself to them as Charlie, and they introduce themselves as Pariah and Scratch. I toyingly ask Scratch if that was a family name. Honestly, I think I recognized him from somewhere, though he was not entirely the same. I asked them what they did, and they said they were going to be Shadowrunners. I said that I was looking for a change in scenery and if I could join them. They looked me up and down and laughed. I asked what they were laughing about, and they some some disparaging comment about not being able to dance my way out of a cardboard box. I laughed and said, well, you don’t need to bring weapons to a fight. Scratch looked at me quizzically, so I said “Watch this” and almost immediately the letters in the Renton Ambassador Suites changed and rearranged themselves to “Scratch Adores Joyboy Ass”. He laughed and asked me if I had any other tricks up my sleeve, and I said not to worry about me. He said I needed a new name if I was going to join them, and I said you can call me “Doc.”.
A Nice Respite 12.03.2060 – 01.02.2061
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Paradisio 01.29.2061 – 01.30-2061
Paradise Lost 01.31.2061
Inferno 01.31.2061 – 02.14.2061
Home Sweet Home 02.21.2061 – 03.03.2061
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Dangerous Rhapsody 12.21.2061