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[b]Name:[/b] Henry Locke
[b]Age:[/b] Conservative estimates place him at the dawn of the 20th Century, more wild speculation paint him as an exiled Prince of the Renaissance.
[b]Clan:[/b] Locke doesn't talk about clans, nor does he give off any particular hints. Most suspect a more down to Earth Toreador, or perhaps a fairly calm Brujah.

[b]Biography:[/b]

The name Henry Locke has been around LA for as long the city has been anything worth talking about, but only come to the foreground of late. A roguish drifter who seemed to make his home in the City of Angels by chance following the chaos of the Second World War, the only details known about the man was that he originated from the United Kingdom, and knew enough to seamlessly enter the Supernatural Los Angeles Nights. Resolute in avoiding Kindred politics, Locke joined no Covens, sired no childer no played any of the usual games of the Night, focusing instead on whatever pet project he set his mind to.

He acquired the Sunset Lounge during the 80s, and has remained owner and bartender ever since, changing up his appearance enough every few years to avoid the suspicions of the kine. Most unacquainted with the supernatural consider the current Henry Locke to be a Henry Jnr, the spitting image of his father. For most of its history, the Sunset Lounge has played second fiddle to the other 'watering holes' the Kindred have used, put off by his willingness to serve any and all affiliations, and beings beyond Kindred, a fringe group of liberal anarchs seem to favour the establishment, and little more. The more militant of their movement swore by the Last Round, and the Camarilla had a hundred lesser establishments to choose from.

This changed with the recent events to plague the Final Nights. Death, destruction and maddness. LA has become infected with them, the pillars of Kindred society falling, one by one, until now even the very fabric of the Masquerade wears thin. Everywhere but the Sunset Lounge. For reasons unknown to all, Locke has succeeded in protecting his establishment from the retaliatory violence that has become a hallmark of LA's Kindred society. At Sunset, the lights stay on, and the music always plays.