Name Karen Markova
Nature Analyst 
Demeanor Caregiver
Concept Driven Scientist
Description Midthirties, pretty, but in a unaware sort of way.
Appearance Dresses simply, but well.  White lab coat at work.

 
Attributes
Physical
Social
Mental
Strength oo Charisma oooo Perception ooo
Dexterity oo Manipulation ooo Intelligence oooo
Stamina ooo Apperance oo Wits ooo
Abilities
Talents
Skills
Knowledges
Alertness o Animal Ken Bureaucracy oo
Athletics   Drive o Computer oo
Brawl   Etiquette   Covert Culture  
Dodge oo Firearms oo Investigation o
Empathy ooo Melee o Law  
Expression   Performance   Linguistics
Intimidation oo Repair   Medicine oooo
Leadership oo Security o Occult  
Streetwise   Stealth   Politics  
Subterfuge   Survival   Science ooo
Secondary Abilities
Research ooo Chemistry ooo
Genetics ooo
Lore-Garou oo
Backgrounds
Willpower
Virtues
Resources ooo
ooooo oooo
Conscience ooo
Contacts oo
Humanity
 
Influence ooo
ooooo o
Self-Control ooo
Pure Breed oooo
Courage oooo
Merits
Flaws
Confidence [+2] Curiosity [-2]

 
History:
 
As Karen left the lab to walk up to her office she knew she had made a terrible mistake.  It happened every time she showed even the smallest kindness to the specimins.  She should have left the matter of her food and hygene to the techs.  But for the briefest of moments she had seen Karina in it's eyes.  Had wanted to calm it's fears...

Her sister had done this to her of course... she'd gone and died and left her to raise a child when she wasn't much older than Karina herself.  And now the only thing I ever cared about stalks around in the night outside my home.

She told her assistant that she was going to leaving work early, it was almost four and most of the work for the day had already been done.  She glanced out into the woods as she walked into the parking lot.  Beyond the woodline was a fense of course, motion detectors, security, everything needed to assure that the private lab facility was secure.  When she was a teenager she loved the woods... she even perchased her home close to the woods, but it had been ages since she had gone hiking, fishing, or hunting.  It had been ages because in her heart she knew the wolves would kill her.  And though she didn't believe her foster-daughter would be one of them, she rather doubted that Karina would be there to stop it.

On her way home, Karen stopped at an ABC store and picked up a nice bottle of vodka.  She had tried to convince her friends in medical school that good vodka existed.  It was not particularly successful, but at the time the cold war was raging and it was not precisely a time for someone to announce their Russian heritage to loudly.

She settled on her deck looking up at the moon with her bottle of vodka, singing softly to herself the songs her mother had song to her older sister and her as children.  She couldn't speak the language... she'd always wanted to learn, but she at least had the Russian habit of drinking her problems through....

She had wanted to hit the little bitch.  To scream at her just what GLS did to people.  To tell her how she had seen friends and colleges ripped to shreds, and read field reports of victims ripping their own families to shreds...

...and yet now the child thought she was the sick one.  And that is what she got for showing the specimin kindness, pity, and for acting like a mother.
 

Karen Markova was brilliant, gifted, and more than a little bit crazy.

Once the director of research for Weaver influenced Developemental Neogentics Amalgamated, a corpration which hunted down and experimented on Garou.  But the wolves had had their revenge on her, and after a police raid on one of the facilities she was running she was arrested and sent to prison with news stories of children and teenagers caged like wild animals, with wolves and dogs.  They'd all managed to be human and to act human when the police were there.

Now out of prison, Karen has no where to go.  Three graduate degrees and she couldn't get a job in an animal hospital, much less as a doctor for people.  And she knows that every night she might be ripped to shreads by a wolf seeking it's own form of justice.

Attributes Specialties:  None

Native Langauge:  English

Learned Langauge:  Russian

XP Log - Vegas in Shadow

2/22/09 - 3
3/22/09 - 4
6/21/09 - 7
11/8/09 - 3
11/15/09 - 5

Unspent XP: 22