Name:Martin Allan Baldwin (Uath-Nesert am Heru) Tradition:Order of Hermes (Bani Ex miscellenae, House of the Crescent Moon)

Skills:Animal ken(1) Blindfighting(2) Crafts(2) Etiquette(1) Melee(2) Pick pocket(2) Research(2) Survival(1) Ride (1) Traps(4)

Knowledge:Academics(2) Archeology (4) History(2) Investigation(1) Linguistics(1) Cosmology(2) Enigmas(1) Occult(1)

Backgrounds:Arcane (1) Avatar(3) Library(4) Node(1) Resources(1) Sanctum(3) Contacts(1)

Adversarial Backgrounds:Debts(2) Enemies(4 see below)

Arete:3 Willpower:8

Merits:Natural Linguist, Foreign Ties,

Flaws:Vengeance (setites), Minority, Distinctive appearance,Inglorious Pedigree,Shy, Allergies (grass, pollen)

Equipment:Aside from the above weapons which he allways carries, there is a book satchell containing: a journal, a tiny Heiroglyphic and Heiratic dictionary, a ball of raw twine, A small pocket knife, a piece of chalk, a small hammer and a chisel, Pocket torch, Tape, Make up brush,

Other Notes: Native language is Coptic(numerous dialects), Speaks English without a trace of accent

Appearance:Middlling sized man in his early thirties with slight silvering at his temples. Coffee coloured skin and dark hair. With intelligent blue eyes. Well muscled from digging, bad posture from too much study.

Clothing Tendencies:Can't really carry off the upper class academic thing. His cuffs and socks are too worn and he can't afford to replace them really. Dresses as well as he can manage on a curator's salary.

Known to:Has made enemies out of a few low level members of Walid Set and of the followers of Sobk by occasionally upsetting their schemes. Also is considered the black sheep of the Baldwin family, Is a male member of the house of the crescent moon (a predominantly female order) which gets no respect from other Hermetics.)

Ongoing Projects: Clear away the rest of Father's debt and learn as much about the true form of Heka. Destroy as many of Walid Set as you can manage.

Circle and Influence:In London, very little. Debt and the machinations of your erstwhile family have rendered you poor (but not broke at least.) While respected among your colleagues. You appear mysterious and secretive. (mostly you are just shy and slow to trust.) You miss your friends back home in Cairo.

House:You own a small home on the east side of town not too far from the museum. This home houses your potent Sanctum.

Library:Your home is filled with volumes from your father's career and a good many of your own. You would probably have a resources of 3 if you could stop buying books. 6 if you could sell the ones you have.

Mentor: Taharet

Quintessence source:Your Sanctum has a chair of beaten copper owned by a temple priest of Thoth which emits Q.

Magickal style :Shares a lot in common with all forms of egyptian sorcery (setite thaumaturgy and Hekau are good examples.

 Story:The story really begins with Father. James Baldwin was one of the premier egyptologists in the world. This of course meant nothing to his family. Fame sought in the arena of acedeme was far too plebian for their tastes. Father was indulged to a degree but not encouraged at all. Father was enraputed by the quest for treasure. and Knowledge was just as valueable to him as the gold that was occasionally found. Father wasn't picky. The family found it slightly amusing that he went on these extended digs in egypt and spent all his time among a bunch of filthy wogs. They were less pleased when he began treating them as if they were equals of some sort.

Naturally, they were apoplectic when he went and married one.

Nyla was a treasure, of that, Father had no doubt. A native cairene and an unmarried sister of one of his senior diggers. The two were like brothers and nearly came to blows over the love of that woman until Uncle Khamal realized that his sworn blood brother was absolutely in love with his sister and could not live without her.

Life went on. I was born and was raised in Cairo. As a youth i spent much time running with the other neighborhood children. When i was old enough to be put to work. Father gave me my first journal and a shovel and put me to work. I was at the impressionable age where i would soak up anything anubody would teach me.

Tragedy struck on my 14th birthday. Father's work occasionally put hi m at odds with certain people who didn't want certain secrets to be found. Vampires tried their level best to kill him to no avail. (Father was canny.) but at one point in the struggle, Mother was kidnapped...We never saw her alive again.

The life drained out of father. he took to drink. Other's in the field began to be more vigourous and more capable of securing funding once father began to act erratically. I was sent to england to receive schooling and to get to know my family. While i was spared undue humiliation from my family for my colour, I had difficulties in school until i made it abundantly clear to my tormentors that the last ten years of excavation had given me muscle. My family turned a cold eye to my activities. They were willing to feed and clothe me as propriety dictated and they saw to it that i was allowed to go to college at oxford but speaking to me or listening to me seemed a marger chore than they were capable of. Every summer i was allowed to return to my home.

But every year father looked worse...He was merely marking time until he could join mother in whatever waited for them in the hereafter.

When i graduated from Oxford, I told father that i was coming to help him dig. it was the only thing i was suited for and father seemed happy that i was coming home...he even seemed to be on a more even keel.

I arrived at the port and was taken straight to the house, where my father waited for me...in his coffin. Uncle Khamal explained that father had made his peace with mother's death. and turned from the finding of secrets to the killing of vampires. It wasn't exactly hard parts of Cairo are lousy with them. but sooner or later, Shear weight of numbers and superior experience will triumph. Father had been caught trying to raid a nest of the loathesome creatures and had met his demise at their hands.

As i set by his body. i began to cry uncontrollably. wracking sobs. i was filled with more rage and hatred than at any other time of my life...I don't remember exactly what happened in that timeless time but i think i had a vision of some sort. Uncle Khamal said that my tears had turned to fire and i nearly burned the house down if it hadn't been for some quick action with a water pitcher.

Uncle Khamal took me to meet a wise woman of his acquaintance. Taharet looked upon me and with a voice full of portent told me that the Avenging Son had laid his mark on me. If i was willing, The gifts of Thoth could be mine. I asked her to teach me what i needed to know.

My studies had not gotten very far when i recieved word from london. I was sole heir of my father's estate. Which included an impressive collection of artifacts and an even more impressive collection of books. There was also a rather impressive amount of debts that needed attending to. The family refused to give any help at all and so i was forced to return to London to take possession of my father's life's work and shoulder my responsibilites. I found work as an assitant curator and consevator for the Royal Museum, which is enabling me to keep body and soul together. I still communicate with Taharet via magick and the posts.

While i consider London priggish,provincial, and a fool's paradise...It has afforded me some opportunities to exercise my aggressions against the Walid Set and the equally loathsome followers of Sobk. I hope to find a way to return to my home once my responsibilites are at an end.

Exp:5 (as of March 15)