There was always something different about Chris. Most folks put that down to the fact that his parents had died when he was very young. Chris's Dad worked in the import business and his Mom sometimes traveled with him. When Dad was home he was always too busy to play and Mom was always off involved in the community. So they sent Chris off to the Grandparents. One time they went to some country in South America and never came back to pick him up. So Chris was raised by his parents from the age of five. He honestly didn't see any difference in his life. So as a result didn't cry at the services. That's when people first noticed Chris as different. It wasn't the funeral and shock, it was just Chris.

He was raised by his Grandparents who ran a neighborhood pub, a pleasant place that kept out the trouble makers. His Grandfather was one to keep his own council so he saw no trouble in letting Chris do so. His Grandmother was an old fashioned sort who kept a fine house and was a real fine one for baked goodies and kind words.

When it was summer break Grandfather would put his manager in charge and head them off camping somewhere in Europe. It was always camping and seeing the natural world, fishing, and a bit of climbing. It was never what was considered entertainment by most tourists. It was always the Majesty of nature.

Once Chris entered his teens the difference was more dramatic. He wore a leather jacket he's worked hard for in the dish pit of the pub. Chris was going for a old truck while others were looking for a flash sports car to impress the women. Chris had his fair share of dates too, but it was tom-boys and athletes all the way for Chris. That or the motherly type like Grams, lovely women them.

Living over a pub and in a working class area made one learn to fight out of necessity but Chris took to it some. Not enough to want to go for championships but more than enough to get a talent for it. His only sport with other was football and he liked that more for the fighting.


The other teens saw Chris as a very odd duck. He listened to the punk, hard core, and heavy metal of someone on the weed, but spent his free time playing an acoustic guitar, working out, or off in the great beyond somewhere. They didn't know quite how to figure this young gent and his grandfather approved of that. Always keep them wonderin' he'd say.

After graduation Chris decided to head off on a big trip to figure things out. His marks had been only passable despite his efforts. So a College would be the best he could manage even with a job. He felt no shame in being a working man but hadn't much variety of experience with work. So he decided to head off and get a few years experience wandering and working to find out. Grams thought that was a very sharp thing to do and Grandfather sent him of with a bit more money after knowing that.

Chris was hiking in the French Alps when things changed a might for him. Chris kept to the paths and safe routes but the wild was still there. Wolves showed up at his camp one night and he was trapped in. Knowing the chances were slim Chris still went to go down fighting. Screaming in frustration, Chris felt a surge and saw a blinding flash. Then the wolves were yelping and running off. Wondering what had just happened Chris was surprised as a well tanned older man walked into the light of his campfire.

The man smiled and said, "Das iz vhat ve call za Art of Power, yes?
You are awakening young man. Das iz good, nign?"

Chris stepped back and looked at the man, the world flowing bizzare in colors and feeling and said, "Is it good? It seems like a drug or something. Adrenaline and what?"

The man laughed and said, "Nighn, no drugs or adrenaline. Das iz da real world. You have just woken to it. Das iz good, trust me for a while. I zee you head out to camp and zot I follow a foolish young man. Nign, you camp well and knew nothing of da volves. Zo I was inclined to help. I dist not know you ver about to awake. I am honored to be here for it. I am Hans Brewer of Oslo,"

Chris looked freaked but asked,"So this is why I've always been different?"

Hans laughed and said, "Ja, das iz it," and began to teach Chris. So Chris stopped wandering Europe and went to work for one Hans Brewer of Oslo who owned a sheep ranch. He worked for fifteen months and learned much. Then word that his grandfather had died of a heart attack sent him winging home. Hans told him it was time he learned on his own anyway. That was the way of the Verbena and of the Lifeweavers even more so.

Chris arrived home and saw to the funeral. This one he cried at. Then he took care of all the details and ran the business with the manager. Grams the poor old dear was heartbroken. It came as no big surprise when she became ill and died three months later. Neither Grandfather or Grams had been young. That left Chris with a pub that pretty much ran itself. The manager had been there since he was a kid and had trained up his own sons to do so in their turn. The fellow claimed it was an Irish tradition with them. Chris decided soon after to emigrate to the USA.

On the way over from England, Chris's thoughts were filled with memories of what was and hopes for the future.  He'd been accepted as a new immigrant to the USA and didn't doubt that his independent income played a large roll in that. With his inheritance, the sale of the summer cottage, and some of his savings he was sure he could buy himself a small place in the Sandfield Rock. A place he'd chosen partly out of instinct and partly because it was nothing like his former home in England. He'd made arrangements for a rental car in Atlanta which he'd drive to Sandfield Rock.

After landing Chris retrieved his luggage and picked up his rental car. Then he began the drive to Sandfield. It was a pleasant enough trip and once he arrived he picked up a local map at the service station and got directions the Lucky Star Hotel and Casino where he was staying while he house hunted. They seemed nice enough people and after asking whether he was in town for business or pleasure they suggested that he'd find a good Realtor at Venture Estates.

The God and Goddess were surely guiding him since he found the perfect place after looking over only four locations with the service. It was a lovely two bedroom place with a large sun room and unfinished basement. It had been the property of an elderly couple in the suburbs. The gentleman had passed on two years ago and the lady only a little over a month ago.  After looking over the place Chris asked if they were selling the furniture plants and such as well, he even like several books on the bookcase. The son of the couple was surprised but pleased and arrangements were made. Chris would move into the place in four days after they removed the personal items and clothing of the former lady of the house.

Those for days Chris spent taking long walks in different parts of town. He used the Art of Power to follow the lay lines and locate the places where others would make their sanctums.

One of the first places he located was the Bujinkan Dojo. He went in was given a brochure then left his name and cell number. Chris was more of a street fighter but he could do with a spot of training.

Time and again Chris was finding locations that had been destroyed or taken over by the Technocrats.  This persuaded Chris to keep a very low profile and confirmed his thoughts that his new home in the suburbs should have a 'somebody else's business' cast and maintained on it. During his journeys past these destroyed or damaged locations Chris was even able to meet others of power and begin a few friendships.

Chris now wandered around his new home looking about and getting use to the fact that this was now his home. He wasn't quite sure if he was happy or not, but he was certain this was the place he should be.