Xander DuBois's Questionnaire

Now?

Why, these days my home is the open road, the wide open sky, & a lungful of FREEDOM than can only be had in this glorious day & age!

While hailing from down South, from the storied Cresent City itself, I have yet to find a home & in fact I must admit that wanderlust burns strongly in my heart! accompanied by my loyal & surefooted burro, Daisy DuBois, I have no time to settle down! No sir!

There is far to much history to uncover, secrets to unveil, & ladies to tip this fine bowler hat to for Xander DuBois to hang up his spurs, hat, & calipers! Perhaps someday I will set up shop in Lost Vegas or Little Rock...or even return to my beloved New Orleans, open up an antique shop to call my own...

Not today though, no sir!

I was brought up in the Antiquarian trade by my Nana...why, you might not know it, but the absence of reliable records makes a skilled & skeptical eye quite valuable in the world. After all, is that REALLY a WWII Era Gerrand Rifle? Or is that vase ACTUALLY a precious Ming Dynasty antique?

Or is it just rubbish, snake oil & moon shine?

A skeptical eye, a well trained mind, & a head full of history help a lot - however, we DuBois have an extra bit of shine to us, yes we do - long line of Psychics on my Mother's side. Why, sometimes when i touch an item it veritable speaks to me. That is a rare talent indeed sir, & demands a handsome price for services rendered!

No small task to convince someone to part with first edition press runs or a Faberge egg when all folks acre about is filling their belly & wetting their whistle! As for what I spend my take on...well, I admit clothing makes the Man & I do in fact like to strut around like a Dandy in my fitted shirt 7 vest, bowler hat & striped pants - none of this grubbing in the much for me, no sir!

Sir, I seek nothing more & certainly nothing less than the mysteries of all history. If it is hidden from the light of human understanding & knowledge then it is my holy quest to bring it to the light! My psychic talents help with that a touch, but much of it is old fashioned work & persistence I'll have you know! The Truth is out there, & Xander DuBois means to find it!

Die for it?

gulp

Well, knowledge isn't much use to anyone if it is entombed with you like the Pharaohs, see? Obviously to put my learning to work I need to be around to use it...kill people? Gosh, I hope not. Not just to learn a secret, no - save a life yes, I have in fact already done so...however, "Haste makes waste" as a wise man said - History is patient, & I don't need no murdering short cuts to find it.

The awakening of my Psychic talents came as an unexpected blow to me, but not to my Nana - why to this day i suspect she had already divined the history of that handkerchief before she asked me to clean it...

Ugh...the emotions! Like drowning in a pool of tears, that piece of cloth. Soaked with the sorrow of a woman who had to watch her own sons be buried before her eyes...terrible. Just terrible.

As I cried my eyes out for another human's heartbreak, my Nana then told me that we were special. That I had the gift & curse of what they call Psychometry.

That is, a psychic sense of where things have been, & who has held them in the past.

My dear sweet Mother comes first to mind of course, as any right thinking boy should say. Sweet, kind, everything a boy could ask for...Larissa DuBois was all that & more. Never a strong woman though, no sir, & with a kind heart that would lead her afoul of men with bad intentions at times...I was simply unable to leave her side until she was happily married at long last.

My Nana, my mother's mother however, is tough as nails & then some! I learned the antiquarian trade from her as well as my gift for gab: that woman could talk down a hurricane, look it right in the eye as she did so!

These were the women who raised me, & until their is a Mrs DuBois in my life, will always matter the most to me. maybe even after. If I had to pick a third it would be my valiant, loyal steed Daisy DuBois! Caisy is a spirited Burro, rather like a small, sure footed Donkey. Daisy is Sancho to my Don Quixote I feel, my bosom companion in the Wastes!

Raised among the chaos of the Blackout, it was a tumultuous life indeed! I was raised on the banks of the Mighty Mississippi River, in what was left of the Crescent City, that Belle of the United States - New Orleans.

My father was not known to me I fear but that loss was more than made up by the glowing presence of my Mother & GrandNana - my Mother was a loving soul, while my Nana was hard as a coffin nail! An antiquarian by trade, it was her own stories of the past & passion for Antiquity that filled a young boys soul in the absence of formal schooling or a father figure...

Did I fit in? Well, I can say I was always a touch precocious & well liked, I was considered a bit odd by some - perhaps loquacious, a bit outspoken, & also touched by the hand of fate - a Psychic bloodline, powers that have touched my family for generations.

Such Fae talents have a way of unnerving the less initiated. So it was that my schoolmates were perhaps...less than kind on occasion.

Ah, Love...amorous intentions have been known to rise in my breast on occasion, I have no shame in admitting such - ever since a young boy growing up without a Father, I have come to enjoy & perhaps crave the company of the gentler sex whenever available.

Sofia, Consuela, Amiga...others, many others - I am not so loose lipped as to describe WHAT happened, of course - I can say it did not last, as I am possessed by a powerful wanderlust. So it was that, to date, I have not found female accompaniment that has lured me into settling down...perhaps some day, but not this day.

Like my Mother, I have always been a bit sensitive I suppose - it comes with the Gift of clairvoyance I should think, a certain open minded outlook & a propensity to experience raw emotion, not unlike an exposed nerve.

So common fears of pain, death, & violence are shared double by me - I would say I am not a brave man, though impulse & exuberance do see me caught up in the moment on occasion. If I must perish it would ideally be in comfort, in my sleep, with the company of a close female companion. The very idea of the brutality common throughout history terrifies me, frankly - I try to put on a brave face, but I have no desire to be lynched or worse.

A more unusual fear comes from my talent itself - every time I touch an item & open myself to it's psychic vibrations...well, it is the darkest images that always come first. While something so simple & unassuming as a shovel or candlestick may hold no terrors to common folk, to me it may summon the experience of murder most foul, or even being buried alive...The painting, & it's grotesque history of drowning...I cannot abide large bodies of water to this day.

Ah, well - as an Antiquarian I do have a love of things...some are clearly glorious artifacts from a time when fine craftsmanship was expected, even considered common place - others are less obvious: a smattering of dusty pottery shards or a stray bottlecap might have great significance if one knows their history - I find these innocuous treasures to be even more exciting, as they are only for the scholar & historian to savor - a rarefied vintage, if you will.

So my Ivory Handled Razor, my Walnut Calligraphy Pen, the silk handkerchief with the spiderweb pattern...even poor Moff's lantern - these are treasures to me. I'm quite certain I shall add to that ledger in time, as I have a passion for Antiquities, but for now these items have a tale for me alone to savor.

Also, I should note: the clothes make the man - my Bowler really brings the image & ensemble of "adventuring scholar" together, & I would be hard pressed to go on without it.

A grievous injury in Whitehall left me short an eye - while the eye patch I wove is quite dashing, the complications have been numerous indeed. Sharpshooter is now out of my purview, it would seem.

After the incidents in Pinwell & LaBelle my fear of open water has intensified greatly. I will glad to leave the lands I was born for the dry climate of the New West once more. Quite over any body of water greater than a horse trough or warm bath.

Mainly though, my biggest problem is my compatriots on these quests keep getting themselves killed. I am beside myself at why this keeps happening to me in particular - I have tried to make the best plans I can think of under admittedly dire circumstances...yet they still fall.

Moff, Sylvia, Abdiel...who knows how many of these ledgers I will have to carry? Are their stories my burden to tell?

Daisy & my new steed Faithful are quite demanding when it comes to morning care & grooming, so I am typically up in the wee hours of the morning - there to start a tea pot with one of my custom blends of herbal tea.

I make new blends every day, taken from what I collect on my travels. different every time, not always delicious, but I find the exploration invigorating! After those tasks are finished & some measure of breakfast, I do my level best to clean & mend my clothes - I take no small measure of pride in such things, so upkeep is a must. Gone are the days where I might have a wardrobe with a fine suit for every occasion!

After that, it is time to travel the winding roads - my wanderlust still compels me to continue on & on...someday I may find a home to call my own, but I suspect that day is a ways off yet.

Somewhere special?

Sir - every day is a reason to dress one's best!

Why, when others are cleaning their firearms & making ready for war, I am cleaning, mending, & preparing my fine attire!

Fitted vest, tailored shirt, striped slacks, pocket watch & chain, Windsor tie, & my signature bowler - the clothes make the man!

Yes, even the eye patch I hand stitched with the mysterious symbol i continue to encounter must be cleaned on the regular. Naturally one must take considerable effort to clean oneself of the rigors of hard travel & the dust of the wastes - which is why I barter for cakes of hard soap, borax, & similar - have to keep the pearly whites shining, show by example that a gentler, more civil world is still in reach!

Granted, it may take some time to achieve such splendor. I am both fortunate & humbled then that each of my temporary traveling companions understands the significance of a sharp dressed man & graciously allows me just as much time as I require without grumbling or fuss!

That is a interesting question.

You see sir: I was born on February 29th - which in addition to making me a Pisces, also means that my Birthday occurs on a Leap Year - at least, in the Gregorian calendar that is still used in most of the West.

Meaning my actual "day of birth" only occurs once every 6 years.

Naturally, my dear mother would not deprive her most cherished child a yearly celebration - I enjoy such festivities as are available on the 28th of February most years - once with sweet tea & perhaps a candy, now with carousing, ideally involving the gentler sex.

Even so, it is just part of that DuBois charm that I can only count 4 "birthdays" to my name - though the next is soon at hand on my 28th year.

One can hope it will be an event to mark such a rare occasion.

To date, my greatest regret is not being born in an earlier age.

Surprised? It's true. I have always acted on my conscience, acted in such a way that Mother & Nana might be proud (well - not where young ladies are concerned, perhaps): I have little enough to regret in my actions other than my lack of knowledge if I had been so fortunate to be born unto more civilized times.

The idea of graduating from such esteemed halls of Learning as Cambridge, Harvard, or Oxford thrills my heart. My talent grants me images of people who lived in ancient times, yet led fuller, gentler lives than those I meet on my travels.

What would it have been to live during the height of Rome? To see men land on the Moon - or even, dare i say it: be one of those men?

These dreams & many more are denied the children of the Blackout.

Ah, my miraculous talents!

A favorite topic, to be sure.

Well, one could say that I, like many a DuBois before me, are Psychic Sensitives - that meaning of course that we are Gifted & Cursed with a sensitivity & awareness of the hidden truth lying in plain sight - hidden by vibrations, auras, feelings, & intuition that only the sensitive can perceive.

Psychic ability was well researched during the Enlightenment. Those less educated might call it Witchcraft, & it would be true that my illustrious ancestry includes none other than Marie Laveau herself - the infamous Voodoo Queen of New Orleans.

Am I also the Seventh Son of a Seventh Son? Perhaps. However, i can say my unusual abilities have been ignited by pursuing the tasks in these mysterious ledgers, & descend either from the innate talents of the DuBois line, or from the rare antiquities which I unearth from times long past & restore, refurbish, & awaken to their lost glory!

We DuBois have a storied history in the annals of New Orleans - if my mother is to be believed (& I would have heated words with ANYONE who might disparage my Mother!), we hail from the notorious Voodoo Queen herself, Marie Laveau - as such, it should surprise  no one that more than an inkling of those ways has infiltrated my world view - why, if the do indded Loa wander through this benighted world, I would be less than courteous if I did not give them their due!

Still - all that Vodoun & Hoodoo - it's a practical faith, you see? We could certainly pray to Jumping Jesus like anyone, but he's very busy - so many prayers coming in, poor old Jesus hardly has time for me - that's why a man might be better off to set out a Rum for old Legba or wily Erzuli - or really, any other spirit that a deal can be made with.

Reciprocity, that's the thing.

I have no time for so called Gods however - worship is a huckster's game. If a spirit needs to be worshiped, it had better be prepared to deliver on it's miracles, or else I would ask it to move along!

High handed, sure - but then, I am not just any vagrant am I? I am a DuBois, of the Laveau line, & the Seventh Son of a Seventh Son - I can afford to put on some airs.

One of the many benefits of having an open mind is that, while still moved (or even sometimes repulsed) by the unusual nature of events that might transpire, it is easy enough to account for them in the strange & unusual world that we continue to document & explore - why, what you would call a "conflict" I would call a grand opportunity to expand the horizon of one's own knowledge, & quite possibly that of Mankind as a whole!

My own Gifts are things of nuance, feeling, & sensitivity. To me, they come as natural as a fish to water, however I can see how an observer might consider them "unnatural."

I am armored by my boundless curiosity - what my Nana said was a precocious need to ferret out every hidden thing - a trait that follows me into adulthood. From that state of childlike wonder, all mysteries are merely unknown opportunities yet to be discovered.