Supercape

The Hound "Oh how the Fates urinate on my life" muttered a Panicked Harry, feeling the sweat pour off him. "Those two!" He pulled the desiccated corpse of the Mess into the Chevvy and did up the seatbelt. Freddy felt horribly light devoid of water, but he was still as broad as he was tall. He huffed an puffed as he did. With Harry half in, he got the keys to the car in his hand. Sweaty, sweaty, they slipped out of his butter fingers. "Holy hand grenades!" he swore, getting them up and firing up the Chevvy, taking a look in the mirror... "Better part of valour! Better part of valour!" he mumbled, and stepped on the gas....

Mr. Murk "The world, I think, accelerates with time" replied Murk, in a friendly way. "It was months of hard travel just centuries ago, a journey that can now be achieved in hours. If needed at all! Ah! The lightning web of words and text that now lays over this world!" he contemplated, truly impressed. "But sometimes, a touch of antiquity is the right flavour!" he nodded at one of the attendants, looking right at him with blind eyes in that odd way. A moment later, an impressively bound thick leather book arrived. The Codex Immortus. 'Twas here that Mr. Murk has inscribed the principles of the Codus Immortus in one part, and the words and stories (albeit truncated, as was necessary in documenting the lives of an immortal) in the second book. It was a think, heavy and rather pleasant tome. And every page had a brail transcription overleaf. A little antiquity is good, but, as Mr. Murk put it, "I would not refuse the advantages of progress!" An old quill and pot of ink were supplied to Comrade Frost, and, with fingers running over pages, Mr. Murk found the page. There were several signaturies to the Codus, some that Frost knew, a few that he did not. A small number had been crossed out. "Voluntary to sign, voluntary to leave" explained Mr. Murk, handing Frost the tome. "And if you do, we should consider perhaps opening a Club house in Moscow. It has not, to date, been somewhere I was inclined to. Volatile place, too easily sucked into political subterfuge. But I would appreciate your advice on that matter..."

Starshot I thank you and your tribe for the hunting replied Starshot, profound but brief as was his nature. I wish you sharp spears under open sky... It was not without sadness that he left the tribe, but the realities of life were present. How long could he spend with one tribe? A week, a month? He had done so before, learning of native ways and tricks and traps for hunting. But his soul would not be confined to one tribe, one land, or even one planet. He took a bite of smoked meat, which in his opinion was actually very good (for he had a taste for smoked meats), and started off North east, carving a slow path through the blade grass. Too slow, for his liking. As much as the presence of vegetation was reassuring after the blaze of the burning sands, the ideal would be to find an appropriately aligned track of trampled grass from the local megafauna...

Lament (a.k.a. "The Duke of Despair" a.k.a. "The Sultan of Sorrow") Power Level: 10 (180/180 Unspent Power Points: 0 Trade-Offs: +2 Tough / -2 Defence In Brief: Voodoo Showman housing Psychic Horror Alternate Identity: Luther Earl LeGrasse Birthplace: New Orleans Residence: On tour. Has large home in centre of New Orleans Occupation: Magician, Entertainer, Musician Affiliations: Various shows and entertainments. Family: Ella Lagrasse (Older sister, New Orleans Politician), Violet Lagrasse (Younger Sister, Jass Singer), Vincent Lagrasse (Father, retired whiskey distiller), Margreet Lagrasse (Mother, Cook) Age: 26 Apparent Age: 26 Gender: Male Ethnicity: Mixed Height: 5'8" Weight: 60 Kgs Eyes: Brown Hair: Bald Luther is a thin man of sleight build, although execrises enough to compensate and be of average strength. He lost his hair in his early twenties, and is clean shaven. When he appears as the great Voodoo magician "Zombo!" he dressed up in some deliberately torn dinner jacket and with white eye make up. His super hero identity, Lament, is just a bold and magnified version of his stage costume. He wears a ridiculously tall purple top hat, make up, ragged purple jacket and coat tails, and a false white goatee stuck to his face. To complete his image, he keeps a machete by his side coated with stage-blood. However, he is an expert on disguise, so if undercover can often look like pretty much anyone! His mixed ethnicity and mastery of make up means he can change his apparent skin tone from almost jet black to pallid white. History: Luther grew up on the streets of New Orleans in a fairly warm, loving family who were neither rich nor poor, but had a certain artistic flair to them. He remembers well the laughter, music, and smell of his mothers cooking. A small kid, Luther was inclined to be bullied, but soon found he had a knack for entertainment and grew in confidence and charm. As a teenager he did street magic, and became progressively more skilled and famous, until, as a young man, he took up a career as a stage magician, progressing further and further under the stage name "Zombo! Voodoo Master of the undead!", until he was a national figure, doing shows in Las Vegas and even around the world. And doing a trimuphant return to New Orleans show, he attracted a horrifically powerful, near mindless, psychic creature who bonded with him, attracted by the delight he caused in his shows. The void. The void feeds on hope and laughter. Not in a malign way, no more than bacteria on a wound. It is virtually mindless, just a hunger. It loves being happy, and the way it gets happy is to feed off happiness. For Luther, this was awful. His shows became a feeding ground for the Void, and his reviews were awful. However, he did find that the Void gave him super powers. And he devised a way to feed the void in a more useful way, as the superhero, Lament, aiming the hunger of the creature to the cruel and sadistic. Personality & Motivation: Luther loves enteraining people, and all forms of entertainment. Which is why the Void chose him. He is a fairly kind and generous man in any case, but the motivation for becoming a superhero is, to a large part, necessity: if he doesn't keep the void fed, his career will be in ruins, and ultimately the void will feed on his own happiness. So he has struck a balance; direct the Void to feeding off the cruel and villainous, and do something good in the bargain. Powers & Tactics: The void normally resides purely psychologically, gnawing at Luther for "food". Luther can bring forth the Void progressively; firstly into his body (the Void can feed Lament's organs), then extending it to the boundary of his body and the world (making him hard to see due to distrortions), and finally extending the Void from hisbody out into the real world, where its black oily tendrils will thrash about. The Void has some psychic powers that it gives to Lament; the ability to sense emotions, project unpleasant images, or feed on happiness and hope (causing despair). Lament will tend to start with these, as he needs to feed the Void. The symbiosis also allows Lament to focus the void onto parts of his body as a black oily parastic force, for instance: it can manifest as oily smoke or blades from his hand, sapping strength, or make his eyes go black (blinding those that meet his gaze), or breathing out oily smoke, suffocating those around him. In any case, his body is now very resistant to all damage. Aside from the powers of the Void, Luther is a skilled showman, highly charismatic, and well versed in many social and performance skills. He is has a world class ability with magic and cards, and is even able to throw playing cards (or other objects) with great effectiveness as weapons. Lament has a certain dramatic tactical style. He prefers a touch of stealth, then an explosion of presence. Ideally, to keep the Void best fed, he would catch villains laughing and revelling, enjoying themselves, and strike them with a despair emotion (i.e sucking all their happiness out). Power Descriptions: If the void manifests, it has an oily velvet-dark quality, but does not obscure light. In its most dramatic form, when Lament pushes the force out of his skin (albeit still symbiotically connected and living within him), the Void has thick tentacles and tendrils that whilst not particularly strong are very dramatic! Complications: Empty Void: Put simply, the Void must feed. Its preferred meal is positive emotions such as happiness. If it cannot feed on others, it will feed on Luther himself, causing a deep depression. If even that food source dies, it will feed on physical vitality, causing fatigue and somnolence (ideally in others, but then Luther). Full Void: Feeding on happiness will make the Void happy in its own mindless way. That said, it can only stomach so much before being bloated. Too much happiness, and it will refuse to feed further. Possessed: Manifesting the Void in the real world is progressively dangerous as it may take over Lament. From midly gnawing ("Void Inside"), to a bleak and broody streak ("Void 'Betwixt") to the possibility of complete possession and temporarily losing his will ("Void Unleashed). The Void is not malign itself, but it is hungry and virtually mindless. Showman: Luther is a natural showman, and cannot help wanting to be adored and admired. He will prefer tactics and activities that are dramatic and impressive, and feed his own sense of self importance (whist internally of course he frets about his skills and worth). Doop de doo doo: Luther loves music, particularly jazz. He is often tapping his foot or humming a tune, actvities that could give him away or make noise. This is virtually irrsistable when there is music playing. He would sing a long to a tune even if it would reveal himself; it is practically an unconscious tic. Abilities: 0 + 4 + 4 + 2 + 8 + 14 = 32 Strength: 10 (+0) Dexterity: 14 (+2) Constitution: 14 (+2) Intelligence: 12 (+1) Wisdom: 18 (+4) Charisma: 24 (+7) Combat: 20 + 18 = 36 Initiative: +6 Attack: +10 Defense: +8, +4 Flat Footed Grapple: +10 Knockback: -6 Saving Throws: 5 + 5 + 8 = 18 Toughness: +12 (+2 Con, +10 Protection) Fortitude: +7 (+2 Con, +5) Reflex: +7 (+2 Con, +5) Will: +12 (+4 Wis, +8) Skills: 104 R = 26 PP Bluff 8 (+15) Concentration 15 (+19) Disguise 8 (+15) SM Handle Animal 4 (+11) SM Intimidate 8 (+15) Knowledge (Art) 4 (+5) Knowledge (Pop Culture) 4 (+5) Knowledge (Streetwise) 4 (+5) Knowledge (Theology and Philosophy) 4 (+5) Language 1 (English [Native], French) Notice 4 (+8) Perform (Acting) 4 (+11) Perform (Percussion) 4 (+11) SM Perform (Singing) 4 (+11) Sense Motive 8 (+12) Sleight of Hand 14 (+16) SM Stealth 6 (+8) Feats: 13 PP Benefit 2 (Wealth) Improved Initiative 1 Jack of All Trades Precise Shot 2 Skill Mastery 1 (Disguise, Handle Animal, Perform [Percussion], Sleight of Hand) Throwing Mastery 5 Equipment: 1PP = 5EP Stage Machete (Strike 2, Feats: Blunted, Improved Critical 1, Mighty) [5 EP] [NB: Blunted indicates the stage weapon can cause non-lethal damage] Standard Disguise Kit [0 EP] Pack of Playing Cards [0 EP] Powers: 12 + 10 + 14 + 22 = 58 PP Alternate Form 2 (Feats: 2 Additional Alt Forms) [12 EP] "Void symbiote" [Psychic] Alt Form: "Void Inside" Immunity 10 (Cold and Hot Environment, Fatigue Effects, Sleep, SUffocation[All]) [10 PP] Alt Form: "Void Betwixt" Concealment 10 (Flaws: Partial, Permanent [+0]) [10 PP] Alt Form: "Void Unleashed" Additional Limbs 3 (Extras: Impervious, 5 Tendrils, Feats: Ambidexterity, Instant Up) [8 PP] Elongation 3 (25', Range Incr 30', Flaws: Permament [+0], Drawbacks: Additional Limbs only) [2 PP] Protection 10 [10 PP] Psychic Array (11 PP Array, Feats: Alt Power 3) [14 PP] BP: Emotion Control 10 (Feats: Subtle, Flaws: Limited to Despair) [11 PP] AP: Emotion Control 5 (Extras: Burst Area, Feats: Subtle, Flaws: Limited to Despiar) [11 PP] AP: Illusion 5 (Auditory and Visual, Extras: Duration [Sustained], Feats: Progression 1 [10' radius], Flaws: Limited to disturbing or unpleasant images, Phantams) [11 PP] AP: Mind Reading 10 (Extras: Duration [Sustained], Feats: Subtle, Flaws: Limited to reading emotions) [11/11 PP] Void Array (20 PP Array, Feats: Alt Power 2) [22 PP] BP: Fatigue 10 [20 PP] "Void Skin" AP: Dazzle 3 (Extras: Action [Reaction: Meeting Gaze], Range [Perception]) [18 PP] "Void Eyes" AP: Suffocate 5 (Extras: Area [Cloud], Duration [Sustained]) [20 PP] "Void Breath" Drawbacks: -4 Vulnerability (Psychic; Frequency: Common; Intensity: Moderate) [-3PP] DC Block ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC 15 Toughness Damage Stage Machete Touch DC 17 Toughness Damage Emotion Control or Perception DC 20 Will Despair Emotion Control Perc/Area DC 15 Will Despair Mind Reading Perception DC 20 Read Void Touch Touch DC 20 Fort Fatigue Void Eyes Perception DC 13 Reflex / Fort Vis Daz Void Breath Touch/Area DC 15 Fort Suff. Throwing Stuff Ranged DC 20 Toughness Damage Totals: Abilities 32 + Combat 36 + Saving Throws 18 + Skills 26 + Feats 13 + Powers 58 - Drawbacks -3 = 180/180 Power Points

Synth The walk was long and bittersweet; he remembered many nooks and crannies working as winter snow. He would miss Freedom City, for all its warts, he had enjoyed the bubbling life on the streets. But now, it was time for clear air and open lands, to reflect and wonder, and process all the grit and grime he had gone through. As well as the practicalities of limiting the danger of him being used for nefarious purpose. So he trudged through the streets, and this time chose the smaller ones. Perhaps not the safest ones, too. The odd thug or crook would pose no challenge. But being spotted or stopped by AEGIs (or indeed SHADOW) would cause a serious problem...

Starshot "Probably not long" agreed Starshot. "Damn it, he's our burden now. Much as I want to kick him" he admitted. He wasn't pleased at all about the situation. And, whilst he wouldn't kick the alien, by Wotan, he wanted to. Badly. "Damned if I'm going to sacrifice one of your two for him though. Or even my own skin. If he gets too much of a risk, cut him lose..." It was brutal, but it was a brutal situation. "Till then, keep him fed and watered. And preferably, quiet. If we all make it back to civilised space, lets drop him off for some psych treatment" he said, in mitigation. "Right now, lets get going" he said, determined. He kept Phalen's blaster rifle for himself; not as good as his own customised plasma one, but it would do in a pinch.

Mr. Murk "Hence, we must not go too great" replied Murk. "But..ah! Conundrums upon conundrums. You have impressed me, my friend. You have given voice, and eloquent voice, to every concerns I have had about my proposal. Yay, every one" he explained, quite satisfied. "And these concerns lay heavy on me. My impetus to action is despite these worries, for, after much reflection, I have come to view inaction as more concerning". "And 'tis not that this is my only concern. Storms are ahead, the likes of which the world has never seen. In the grand scheme of things, my venture is small, but it is not absent. Whilst I feel the Codus Immortus is the right thing to do, it is not the only thing to do, no, not by any rubric. What strength and wit I have must be exerted, alas, my strength comes from the long game and the shadows" "So then, as to the Codus Immortus, at least, as I envisage it. Three codes. To not kill another signatory, or at least, if you do, to be held to account for it and demands made that you justify your action as absolutely unavoidable. Yay, I am sure such circumstance will happen, for both you and I" "Secondly, to protect and save other signatories from deathly peril or inhumane torment. This be the spirit of mercy and humanity. Again, to be held to account if otherwise acting". "Thirdly, as a final safety net against prejudice, that Club Immortus be hallowed ground. No violence in these grounds between signatories". He sat back, complete. "No document is without flaw, and this neither. Surely, it will evolve, but never be complete and true. It is a voluntary code of practice to save us from the erroneous passions of the world, and the erroneous passions of ourselves". "What say you? Just or unjust?"

By "Sees" I will presume that is "senses something" - magical or soul?

Synth Road, rail, or boat? Plane was not something he entertained. The alternative would simply be walking. He could do it, but it would be slow. Less chance of getting caught per day, but more days to do it. Not worth the risk, not now, firstly; he needed some distance. His best bet, he thought, would be rail. Stowaway on some train heading north. It would be fast, and with fortune, he would not be spotted. Just some hobo catching a ride. This called for his memory of Freedom City streets, which fortunately was well developed thanks to his months working as Winter Snow. Picking up the pace, he scuttled onwards. A bridge over a rail track would be ideal. Jump of the bridge, onto a freight train. Take it from there...

Mr. Murk "Bodies...without souls...dead...." whispered Mr. Murk sadly. And, it appeared, they were trapped. "I am afraid I am of little help with computers" he explained, calmly. "Although maybe with sufficient skill, there will be some information within, ready to be mined by the curious" he suggested. He tapped the floor infront ofhim. "What concerns me is that we are, it seems, imprisoned. Something is rewriting the architecture, maybe the entire reality, of the hospital, and it appears in a malign way" he explained. At least, that was his best guess. The magic here was very powerful. Seemingly, it had sucked them all in to the hospital and changed the interior according to...what? It was like a lizard catching flies on its tongue, and hauling them into its stomach. "Why? What would do this. The congealed misery of the souls in the walls, taken form? The madness and despair, a sign of the unspeakable one? A sorcerer intent on harnessing the psychic energies here? But...but why would it suck us in? To feed? To aid?" There was little answer to be had, but... "Whatever force is alive here, its intent and purpose are concealed. We must not lose sight of this, we must not only determine what his happening, and who is effecting this, but why...." Mr. Murk touched the walls, intent on getting a feel of the place. "I prefer the subtle touch to brute force, but some knots need a sword. Can we break through, if need be?" He turned his head, blind milky eyes staring. "Something is coming...thin and silent...be aware!"

Well I managed to breathe some life into my computer so I'm back. That said, its creaky and some functions are gone (I'm not surprised, its been mechanically a little suspicious over the past few months, overheating a lot - and this morning something went Fzzzt! Bang!), so its time for a new PC. Ill be around for posting, but might be a little reduced.

Starshot All in all, they were in good shape, thought Starshot. Could be better, of course, but could be a lot worse. Energy cells, food, water. No serious wounds or tropical diseases. His only irritation was Phalen. As they were preparing to go with the Ul-Mor (at least, as far as they were prepared to take them), he thought he would try one last time with Phalen. If the alien didn't get his act together, then he was dead weight. Dead weight that Starshot would reluctantly have to mind. "Phalen. Are you going to talk to me, or carry on being crazy?" he asked bluntly. Psychology wasn't really his thing. "Crazy is going to get you killed. Might get the rest of us killed, too" he explained even more bluntly. "I'm not sacrificing my crew to save you. So, if I was you, I would get clawing back to the world, and start helping us. Otherwise, I can cut you loose, but I think you know that on your own, its only a matter of time before you get eaten, burned under the sun, or consumed by some infectious disease"

It's looking like my PC has died. Posting will be zero to minimal at the moment, sorry!

Mr. Murk "Mmmm. I would do all I can to stop them, too. Not kill them, unless I had too" he answered. "As you say, who watches the watchmen? And so on, ad infinitum. For is it not the case, that whoever watches the watchmen must then be watched themselves? The problem is only solvable with a circular pattern, that of democracy, or having no watchmen at all, the form of anarchy. Myself, having lived with both, I see both have merits, but anarchy is vulnerable to the rule of strength. I would chose democracy. An accountability to all..." "But more than democracy, I would chose. Law! A code! Something directed and not dictated by passion" he said, showing passion himself. "Passions are the root of cruelty and of love. And how we love cruelty when we are cruel. How cruel can love be, when we are in love. I would not constrain them, but I would give us all some protection from their dangers" he explained, finishing his meal with an elegant smacking of lips. "Have you considered the danger of immortality? The potential for promethean torment? Not only are you easily dehumanised, but your agonies could be unending..."

Rev The call came in the middle of her attempt to interrupt the sedan with the mighty spear of bluff and horse manure. "Yes, what is it?" she answered, snapping uncharacteristically. "I'm like, way into the middle of something!" she hissed and whispered. Her tone changed as she processed excactly what SFX was saying. "What? The train is coming?" she blurted. "Oh gosh darn it!" she swore. It was one of her resolutions not to swear. She had been trying really hard and had got her swearing very under control. What she hadn't mastered was the completely incongruous manner in which she swore. It was her look and swagger and accent that indicated profanities should fall from her lips like a beautiful waterfall. Instead, some jarring antiquities stumbled out in a most ungainly manner. "Can you stop it? I'm kinda busy..."

Mr. Murk "An evasive answer" replied Mr. Murk, with good cheer. "Nothing wrong with it, but it was evasive..." he chuckled slightly. "Most would do as you, at least, most worth talking about. Alas, I have lived enough time to have been put in decisions where the only decision is what is the least worst thing to do" he sad slowly and sadly. "Sentiment might direct the heart at that moment, but can be the engine of later lamentation". "I will speak my concern here. Envy can lead to the lust for blood. And the lust for blood can lead to death. I am concerned with protecting the lives of all, and yet, the ramifications of killing an immortal weigh heavily on me". "But this may seem arrogant to you. Yet, in an infinite life, one has infinite chance to redeem. It is not a question of if one redeems, merely of when one does. As can be said of any quality. It is not a question of if we will do something, but of when. This leads to complexity..."

Mr. Murk "I doubt peace will rule every day, or every heart" replied Mr. Murk, sadly. "Wars may happen less, but their days shall be horrific like none before". "The law, yes...the law. 'Tis the best of things, by my estimation. Its follies whilst present, small price to pay for its fruit" he explained. "I do not propose that the flesh nor soul of an immortal is above a mortal one, nor beyond it. Merely different in its possibilities" he explained. "Consider death. If you had to, would you save a young man of twenty, or an old man of ninety, if forced to choose? And why so? True, you may say that the young man has yet to live, and in this sentiment, I would agree. But how do we define having lived, I wonder?" he mused. "By what metric do we make these calculations? I would not have any man die, no matter their crime, no, not one. And yet the death penalty is here. What years of life would an immortal lose, if sentenced to death?"

Stealth: 1d20+19 26 If you feel the complication: Messy: Fred's blood related powers are, to be frank, rather messy and ugly. It isn't a gore-fest (and remains PG-12), but it’s easy enough to see the signs of his powers (specks, drops, or pools of congealed blood), or follow the trail of his homunculus. And the sight of his blood draining out of his mouth to form the homunculus is a little unsettling... Comes up, feel free to use!

Starshot "I hope so" replied Starshot. "If not, then we need to figure out another plan. Unless you want to be huntin the Quickdeath and drinking cactus juice cocktails for the rest of your life" he said, a gravelly humour seizing him. "We should rest now. Its been a long haul to get this far. Let the Ul-Mor help us, take us as far as they can" he explained to his crew. "Head to the north west, where those sensors found something. Its the best chance we have. I hope your salvage skills are up the task, Soreeen! but we might have a bigger problem; how to get those parts back to the Xeno" he said, the problem having being niggling him for some time. "We cross that bridge when we come to it. Depends on what we find. If necessary, see if we can get parts to free up the ATV, and use that to transport bigger parts for the Xeno" "But for now, rest. Restock, reload. Eat!" he concluded, and took that very advice, checking on his equipment, his helmet (down to about 50% charge), even Phalen's blaster rifle. And taking some sleep. He would have to figure out what to do with Phalen in the morning. Maybe the alien would have stopped babbling by then...

Mr. Murk "It will happen" said Mr. Murk, confidently. "Unless the world is destroyed or subject to one of the myriad of disasters that are now possible" he added, more bleakly. The food arrived, and it was of fine calibre, fresh from Paris. Club Immortus was not known for its food, but its food was certainly above average fare, without excellence (by and large). And it did indeed have a Parisian touch. Mr. Murk was of course quite experienced in eating blind, using his nose and touch to work. "I hope you will be instrumental in avoiding disaster. You certainly seem to have the will and strength to be so instrumental" he explained, savouring the rare steak and the comnplex wine. "As, I hope, so will I, although I lack direct strength" he conceded. "Another issue does lurk within my heart, however. The fate of the immortal in the mortal world. Many consider it blessed. I am not convinved, yet thankful I have seen the marvels of the modern world, and the diminishing of life's horrors that go with them" he explained. "Irrespective of the benefits or otherwise of immortality, it leads to problems. The world is still ruled by passions, and envies. We are vulnerable to injustices, both in judgement and execution, and few will defend us from these, if any. We must be held to fair account, but therein lies my concern...will we be?"

Mr. Murk "He would be wise to raise questions" agreed Murk. "It would be foolish if he did not". "There are two problems in life. Other peoples opinions. And your own" He finished his cigar, feeling more confident. "The only shield against them is the law. Which sometimes you would agree with, sometimes you would not. It is by no means a perfect shield. But it is better to have on than not. To your friend I would say this; you are right. What are you going to do about it?" "It is like politics. Democracy! What a force! To diminish the power of tyrants. Everybody can be held to account, at least to some measure. Yet, it is essentially putting fools, yes - fools, in power. The world is full of people who think with passion unmelded with reason. It is a leadership who only think short term, for it is only in the short term they will be held to account. Its flaws are many and burning, but it is the very best of systems" "And so I must respond to that thought experiment with another. Is the world a better place with a code of conduct for immortals, or without it?"

Mr. Murk "Ah yes, I know of what you speak" said Mr. Murk, sadly. "Modern society - ha - a name of hubris - has diminished much cruelty and horror, and yet somehow managed to contrive new forms" he sighed. "But change is inevitable. What form will it take? I wonder. And sometimes, I see". He ordered steak, rare, from the waiter, who seemed to know that Erasmus would order thusly. The polite middle aged, thin man, full of attentiveness, turned his attention to Voin. "And the lady? We will attempt to procure whatever you may wish. Fresh from Paris! Excellent cook!" Mr. Murk waited for Voin to take her order, smiling with a touch of enigma. "Perhaps when you have ordered, you can tell me your thoughts on being immortal..."

Mr. Murk Mr. Murk swam in the success, but did not drown in it. "I am pleased" he said slowly and with gravity. "Yes, stories are true. Not all of them, and rarely complete. How they twist and mutate through the ages" he chuckled a little. "I do not attempt to correct them, and I sometimes nudge them away from truth. For I operate in the shadows, not the sun" he explained. "You might appreciate why" he added, indicating his blind opaque eyes. "And for the most part, such efforts reap reward, as you note. Alas, the world is changing, and I must change too. I cannot leave the shade, the gloom, at least, not yet, but it is perhaps time to push rather than nudge. And times will bring greater changes, both threats and marvels" he explained. "I can see the fog of the future, despite my blindness. Perhaps because of it. I have made preparations for centuries, studying law and philosophy, developing business and a spider web of contacts. I fancy I shall need them all in times to come" he said, pouring Voin some of the merlot that arrived. It took some fumbling, but after fifty thousand years he knew how to handle his blindness well. "May I ask what you plan for the future? Or do you plan at all?" he asked with a smile.

Mr. Murk Mr Murk felt the hiss of magic, and the eldritch power woven into the architecture. Despite its overpowering presence, for once he could appreciate the architecture of the building. "Hold on to your hats, friends" he said, adjusting his own bowler (and checking it was still on). "Magic!" he proclaimed, a touch of drama in his voice. "A spell to move us here, and every wall dripping with it. This is some incredible power" he explained, gazing around with blind milky eyes. "What see you?" he asked the others. "Is there some clue to what has happened?"

Synth Well, shoot. Synth quickly tore of a good wind of uniform, wound it round her fist, and punched out the glass. He presumed there would be alarm; silent or blaring. One way or another. And he wasn't going to hand around for the cops to investigate. He had a minute, tops. But fortunately he was fast, his nerves slick like lightning, every muscle quick and strong. He moved without error to the clothing rack, and picked up the best clothing he could find. Changing was fast, his nervous system perfectly coordinated. And as quick as he could, he was out, senses alert for the sounds of sirens or cars. He did not wish to run, but would if needed. For now, it was a fast walk, and slowly changing his appearance to a gruff old man. With big bushy grey beard. He did not change fast, but did change, risking a nasty ache in his bones, but not enough to incapacitate him.