The message from Nigel Harrington, the old Englishman who owns the ‘Curio Shoppe’, a tailsmonger store in Pikes place market is short. In his characteristic soft voice that has lost a bit of its English (as in the people) from years of living in the UCAS. “I have a matter of utmost importance to discuss; if at all possible may I count on you at the appointed hour?”


The hour is 3 AM.

Unlike most of Seattle that hustles and bustles at 24 hours a day, The Pikes Place Market is quiet, eerily so. The market is world famous, and a tourist attraction that keeps to its old rules of operation. There is a touch of chill in the air, which brings a layer of mist that in turn becomes a blanket of fog. The fog is dense enough that the ornamental street lights glow a pale yellow. The quiet of the area is disturbed only by the sound of your foot falls on the cobblestone street. Lightening your step does not work to reduce the noise, as the fog and shadows play tricks on your mind. Finally you reach the old wooden door to the Curio Shoppe. You grasp the old brass doorknob on the aged wood door, the familiar chime of a bell sounds as you open it up into the store.

Along the walls of the store you see the old Curio displays, the two headed calf, a mummified hand and such. As you step inside to the landing made of polished oak you are greeted by Pippin. Pippin, Nigel’s chubby grey cat peers at you through orange eyes before meowing and scampering towards the back stairs. Pippin stops once or twice to look over his shoulder at you.

The tall figure paced methodically through the mist. The pace of it's approach is punctuated with the rythmic click of boots on cobblestones and the alternating tap of it's walking stick. The stylish dark silken top hat, with it's weathered corsage rose made the figure appear even taller. Dark trim trousers and a gleaming black cummerbund contrasted with pearly white ruffled shirt, but all this, and the figures bulk and strength, was hidden beneath a dark coat and a knee length swirling cloak. Like many of his kind, the figure was quite comfortable in the dark. In fact, he was more comfortable in the dark. Sunlight was quite discomfitting, as was the touch of silver, all of which he took great pains to hide.

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks!"

Chuckling quietly, the tall figure bows slightly and waves Pippin ahead.

The silence of the night is briefly disturbed as a figure swoops down from the starry sky to land on the cobblestones below, the blanket of mist parting slightly to make way for his descent. Dusting himself off, Clay walks up to the entrance of the Curio Shoppe with long strides, opens the door softly, and heads on inside. Blinking momentarily to let his eyes adjust to the lighting, the young ork gives Pippin a smart salute.

"Right behind ya, fat cat. Lead the way."

Before he leaves the room, Clay glances at a couple of the more gruesome specimens on display at the racks and feels a tingle scurry up his spine.

Zu got out of the cab at the corner of Stewart and First Ave, and paused to consider. To the east was the darkest heart of Downtown, all gleaming steel and glass, a monument to greed and ambition. To the west lay the darkly gleaming Puget Sound, shrouded tonight in a opaque veil of thick white fog, its pungent sea smells mingling with the chemicals produced by the plex to add an unmistakable ‘air’ to the area. Pike’s Place remained a bastion of civilization in modern society, filled with small shops and curio stores, usually operated by the owners. In his seven months in Seattle he’d visited the famous attraction several times, and come to enjoy its narrow meandering malls, the sounds of smells of people shopping and bargaining in its open air street market. It reminded him much of the bazaars in Dubai and Bahrain, the times he’d visited it during the day. Now, in the dark hours of nights, the ‘witching hour’ when the human body’s energies ebb lowest it was a dark and foreboding place.

He looked around carefully, the expensive set of Whitelaw-Zeiss electronic glasses turning night into dusk, looking for anything or anyone who might be present. He didn’t worry about any physical danger, he’d faced far worse than random street violence in his twenty odd years, but having to deal with it would draw attention he’d prefer to avoid. He recognized he would present a tempting target to a would be mugger, small and thin, with his dark hair trimmed close to his head, sporting a ‘corporate casual’ look with his indigo dress shirt with sharply creased black slacks and black loafers. He looked like a being with things worth taking and an equal inability to prevent them from being taken. Only an observant mugger would see that his knee length leather jacket hung heavy with armored plates and covered the shoulder holstered Predator IV heavy pistol, or that the round lenses of the spectacles he wore in reality sported more electronics than a RadioShack display case. He tried hard for subtlety rather than display, but at times and places like this it could be a liability.

He drew deep of the night air, turned his back on the light and proceeded into the heart of shadows.

A fairly beat up looking van pulled into the Pikes Place market. When the door opened, the first thing that pierced the fog was the dim crimson glow coming from Recoil's right eye. Walking towards the now-familiar Curio Shoppe, Recoil's tall and wiry figure seemed to blend into the night, the black of his trenchcoat and clothing underneath highlighted by glints of armor fibers woven in. He looked every bit the part of a shadowrunner from a sim flick.... from the early '60s. His hair spikes out in that trendy-messy look that was popular before the Crash, and his clothed have belts for no reason.

Opening the door to the shop, Recoil was once again reminded of how weird the place smells. In recent years he had been spending more time amongst the Awakened side of the criminal underworld, but some of the things they deal in still don't make much sense to him.

Recoil started to wonder if anyone else was actually around when he noticed the cat. Pippin, the overweight grey ball came into view and immediately ran to the back stairs. Taking the hint, Recoil set down a jar of ... something he was examining and followed his feline guide.

The eerie quiet is abruptly disrupted by the throaty roar of a motorcycle engine. Soon the source of that roar pierces the murky fog as it comes down 1st avenue at a reasonable pace considering how poor the visibility is. The miniaturized Yamaha pulls into a spot right next to a beat up van and is soon silenced returning the area to the eerieness that pervaded it before this small interloper disturbed it. Setting the modest security on the bike and glancing about for possible trouble makers the stout rider makes his way towards the shop he was told to meet at.
Dressed for the club scene at the Alabaster Maiden the dwarf wore his old combat boots and city camo pants with a sleeveless shirt. Not that anyone could tell what kind of shirt it was since he was wearing his beat up old long coat to protect him from falls, the chill the fog brought and other more dangerous possibilities. The bracelet and earring he always wore glinted in the soft torchlight as he approached the shop. Upon entering Leo notes that no one seems to be present save for a chubby grey cat. The cat meows once at him and walks towards the back of the store. Leo smiles, "Lead on cousin." and follows the cat back.

Down the street, a shadow detatched itself from the silhouette of a dilapidated cheesemonger's stall and quietly moved down the street. If anyone had been looking out from the Curio Shoppe's front window, they would have seen a pale elf of less than average height and above-average build carrying a large, wrapped parcel through the mist. The ghostly figure was only visible for a moment or two as he picked his way through the patchwork of shadows that crisscrossed the marketplace.

He looked young, but then elves always do, and was dressed in blue jeans and a well-worn leather jacket that looked so old it might have been been made from a real cow in another, simpler time. His feet were clad in moccasins and his belt was made of rope. The whole ensemble meshed well his rooster-like white hair and cool gray eyes, and gave him the aura of a wandering monk or vagabond.

I wonder who's ride that is, he thought, examining the Yamaha as he passed.

Switch switched the meter-long brown paper package from one should to the other as he paused at the door of the Curio Shoppe.

He switched the package back to his other shoulder.

After hesitating another moment, he opened the door and went in, wondering to himself who or what was going to greet him on the other side.

Oh, it's just a cat, he thought.

Looking around, he feels a twinge of nostalgia. Switch always liked museums.

Switch follows Pippin down the stairs....

Zu called up a visual time display and ghostly numbers appeared just inside the lower right corner of his vision.

02:58:02 almost time. I hope the meeting was set at the witching hour for no purpose other than to avoid attention by the authorities.

He knew that some ritual magics could only be preformed under certain conditions, which often included the time of day or night. Some of those magics could involve the shed of human blood, or even the loss of human life to fuel the ritual. Drawing astral energy from the release of the aura of the material form. The types of people that practices those rituals where not ones he would care to meet on a narrow street in the dark of night.

He strode down the sidewalk, looking for the entrance to the shop he was supposed to be at, trying to keep an eye out for possible trouble as well. He felt the cool touch of metal at this throat and drew comfort from that reminder that if anything did happen he was as ready as he could be.

If trouble comes then you're prepared to meet it eh? If trouble comes are you prepared to take whatever steps are necessary? Truely ready?

Along with the voice inside his head, the formula for an Ignite spell flashed across his mind, waiting just for a flexing of will and intent to cause an object's molecules to speed to such an excited state that the thing would burst instantly into flames. Zu knew from experience the spell worked just as well on metahumans as on flamable objects. Inside his head he could again hear the screams and chocking sobs he associated with the memory, and with those sounds again that voice.

Delicious

Zu clamped down on his thoughts, refusing to acknowledge the voice inside his head as he came to the entrance of the shop. Seconds later he found himself following an unusual cat down a set of stairs with that voice still echoing in his head.

Delicious

Removing his cloak with a swirling flourish as he watches Pippin turn tail and return to the front in answer to the bell. Hat in hand, silvered sideburns are revealed, he hangs cloak and hat on a nearby rack. With a smile, "No bubbling cauldron Nigel? I do hope there is some tea brewing at the very least."

The smile reveals large sharp incisors.

Nigel turns around at the sound of your voice. "Ah, my friend. So very good of you to come." He says as he makes his way to you preoffering his hand. "The others shall be here shortly I believe. I can put on a pot, Earl Grey or English breakfast? It's rather nippy and late....the English breakfast may be just the thing but, what do you think dear friend?"

"In the matter of brewing, I shall place my self in your hands, O True Apothecary." with a congenial hand shake, and a smile, the tall figure moves further into the room.

"Others? Is this then to be a gathering of honorable men?"

"Depends on what you mean be 'honorable'," came a reply from the stairs. Recoil stepped into the room, and as he did he rubbed his hands to shake off the cold from outside. He was glad that they were meeting here in a back room, not only because it was away from prying eyes, but also because the front room of the shop was just as cold as outside.

He nodded to Nigel, then straightened himself out before turning to the other person in the room.

"I don't believe we've met. You can call me Recoil," he said as he held out his hand.

With a brief glance and a raised grey haired eyebrow to Nigel, the ork turned to the newcomer and with a toothy smile made a slight bow of his head, and introduced himself, "In that case I am known as Sweetness."

After a smooth warm hand clasp, he reached into his cummerbund and pulled out a creamy linen stock piece of paper with black ink cursive writing and held it out, "My card." On the card is a commlink number and a matrix mailbox address.

In response to Nigel's expression, "It's an old school name, my friend."

Nigel comments with a smile, "It must have been hard to live up to."

"My names are always hard to live up to."

"I don't believe we've met. You can call me Recoil."

The voice from farther down the stairs sounded faint, as though the bottom of the stairs was much further away than the external dimesions of the shop would indicate. Zu peered ahead, keying his glasses to cycle through both low light and thermographic spectrums in an effort to pierce the gloom. He'd lost sight of the fragging cat somehow and now the stair well seemed to defy the best technology available.

Either that or there simply isn't anything down there drek head. He told himself.

Perhaps there IS something down there, merely hidden from your sight. This is why you must be prepared to do what is necessary child. Again the memories of what happened when he used his Ignite spell flashed across his mind. The voice in his head was distinctly different than the sound of his own thoughts, and he unconsciously slid a hand under his jacket to feel the hard edges of his most prized possession where it rested under his shirt in its custom carrying sling. Even through the fabric of his shirt it felt warm to the touch.

I will not incinerate anyone at the drop of a hat. I'm in the basement of a shop full of flamable objects, if I set something as large as a metahuman on fire down here I'd almost certainly catch the whole place on fire.

Ah, but the confusion of a conflagration would almost assure your escape, since all the others would be more interested in fleeing than in harming you. Simply rendering your attacker unconscious with a Stunbolt would not distract any accomplices. Sometimes the path to freedom lies on the otherside of violence.

He hated to admit it but the other voice in his head, that voice he'd begun to recognize as something other than the voice of his unconscious mind, made sense.

He clamped down on the irrelevant thoughts, using the discipline he'd practiced for years in learning his Art to still any other thoughts or voices. His mind grew still and calm as he found his focus, using a simple meditative technique learned long ago to assist with connecting and controling astral energies, to center himself and still his thoughts.

He reached the bottom of the steps and rapped once on the wall outside the room before entering. Seeing others already present and in the process of greeting each other he paused on the stairway awaiting an opportune moment.

"Greetings, I am Zu, I have an appointment I believe."

Clay walks softly down the eerie stairway, following closely behind Pippin. Pursuing the path all the way to the end, he comes upon a well-worn door. Pippin stops just short of the door, meows contently and scurries back up the stairs - laying a hand on the knob, the young ork pulls it open and enters the room. He's mildly caught off-guard by the small crowd that's already been assembled inside, having expected only to treat with Nigel tonight, but he quickly masks his surprise with an amiable smile and raises a hand in greeting.

"Howdy guys, m'name is Clay. I hope I'm not late for the party."

Following the cat down the stairway Leo hears the murmer of several voices coming from a doorway at the bottom of the stairs. Once at the bottom the cat stops and looks at him expectantly giving once short meow. Grinning Leo rummages around in his coat and manages to produce a package of cat treats of which he gives the protly feline a couple. "Of course you get a tip cousin and my thanks," he says and after scartching the feline under the neck once enters the room.

"Howdy guys, m'name is Clay. I hope I'm not late for the party."

"Ditto that and everyone calls me Leo" he says as he enters the the room. Leo takes the time greet each of the people in the room putting forth his best professional demeanor and thinking the whole time that he should have packed his nice clothes for this meet. Taking off his leather longcoat and picking a chair he takes an empty seat.

"So are we waiting on anyone else?"

Nigel smiles as he comments." Ah very good of you all to attend. I've some pleasantries to attend to so, please be so kind as to introduce yourselves amongst eachother." Nigel makes his way to the back room where the clanking of dishes and running water is heard.

With a subtle shift to move into everyone's view, followed by a stiff half bow to the assembled men, his ruffled shirt flowing to his movement, Sweetness makes sure to catch everyone's eye.

"For tonight I am Sweetness. A pleasant name for us to whisper in the dark. As Nigel no doubt will recount I am the most useless of men, being a social butterfly who consoles widowers and reassures them that their donations to Mother Church are well spent."

"However..."

As he reaches slowly into his cummerbund, his expression changes, his mouth filled with even more sharp teeth, his mouth and nose elongating into a protruding snout, and scales appearing on the flesh of his face, with an exaggerated wink and a sharp toothed smile he pulls his hand out as lightning sheets and sparks around him, flashing from hand to tips of boots and arcing around his entire body.

"I do know a party trick or two."

The arcing lightning grounds itself out through the floor at his polished black boots, a smell tinged with ozone filling the air. There is a slight wisp of smoke as he holds out some creamy pieces of paper. His face returned to normal.

"My card."

Zu nods to the well dressed Ork.

"I am Zu and I too practice the Arts. I lack your social graces, since most of my time is spent learning the nature and patterns that define what metahumans recognize as reality. My Art goes beyond the hide-bound hermetics, or the projected personfied fantasies of the shamanists. I seek the true nature of reality, the Truths that form the foundation of All."

Clay grins cheerfully. "It seems as if this is to be a gathering of men who understand the mysteries of the universe. Reminds me of my college days...ah, good times. For my part, I'm a disciple of witchcraft, an old family tradition that's been handed down over the years."

He shrugs apologetically. "I try my best to refrain from turning people into frogs and don't usually dance naked underneath the moonlight, so I don't know how good a witch I'll make - I'll leave that up to you gentlemen to decide."

For a demonstration, he chooses to go with a fairly simple feat - as he raises a hand up, an antique bastard sword hanging on the wall rises out of its scabbard to hover in the air. Twirling a finger around in an arc, Clay sends the sword sailing gracefully around in the room in a smooth circle. When the blade returns to its starting position, the ork lowers his hand and it slides back into its sheath once more, having finished its performance for tonight.

"I'm totally looking forward to working with all of you fine folks."

Clay grinned cheerfully, "It seems as if this is to be a gathering of men who understand the mysteries of the universe."

Yeah, I always feel kinda stupid when they start showing off like this.

Recoil turned towards the group, adding a bit of a twirl to his long coat as he did so, "Sorry to ruin the streak here, but I'm not really an "art" guy. However, I do have a magic wand."

Recoil pulled open one side of his coat, revealing a grenade launcher clipped in place. Dozens of small pockets line the coat, each holding individual color-coded rounds for the weapon.

"There's your fireball spell," he added, "I also have these..." Recoil reached into a pocket and pulled out a small spider-like drone, which powered up and scuttled across his arm before crawling back into the pocket it came from.

"I'd show you the steel lynx, but I don't want to risk breaking the stairs."

Leo leans back in his seat, puts his feet up, and watches the other people in the room show off to each other with a half lazy interest. Thirty seconds after Recoil introduced himself Leo noticed that the rest of the room was looking at him expectantly.

"Ah yes I'm Leo and I too have been fortunate to have been gifted by Mother Earth with access to a small portion of her awesome energies. I won't bother with a...um demonstration just rest assured that I am a capable ally and a formidable enemy."

With that said Leo relaxes back and waits to see what is going to happen next.

"Brevity is the soul of wit. "

Clay nods at Recoil. "I never did have the brains for any of that tech stuff. Glad we've got someone on the team who does."

He tilts his head curiously at Sweetness. "Shakespeare?"

Sweetness nods agreeably to the younger ork, "Polonius, who was neither, though he did give sound advice."

"Though I do have a magic wand."

The muffled sounds of their talk reached Switch from his eavesdropping point near the top of the staircase. He had tarried on the ground level of the Shoppe long enough for someone else to enter and chase the damn cat down the stairs already.

He wondered if the cat was trained to do that. As soon as the cat had taken off down the stairs, he had lost his nerve and retreated back into the main level of the Shoppe, just in time to hear someone walking up to the door, outside. He had hid in a side room until the coast was clear.

"...though he did give sound advice."

Damn, I can't hear anything, he thought. Maybe if I get a little closer...

He eased his foot down onto the first step of the staircase...

...and cringed as the sound of its creaking alerted everyone downstairs to his presence.

Well, might as well go down and see who these guys really are.

Switch slowly walked down the stairs. Nervously, he looked into the faces of those surrounding him.

Damn, which one is Nigel, he thought.

He holds the meter-long parcel across his shoulders, his hands flopping over the ends loosely.

To the sharply dressed ork, he says: "Mr. Harrington, I presume?"

Sweetness shakes his head apologetically. "Sweetness, Nigel is busy brewing something in the kitchen."

"Join us, please."

"I'm Switch," the elf said.

He looks around the room, hesitantly, and then glances towards the back room where Nigel was busy readying the tea.

"So... have you all worked with Mr. Harrington before?"

"So... have you all worked with Mr. Harrington before?"

"First time for me though from what I gather Sweetness seems to be chummy with him. I'm Leo by the way nice to meet you Switch."

"A few jobs, here and there. Nothing major so far, but from the looks of things, that's about to change real soon."

Switch nods, looking slightly relieved at the information that he wasn't the only one who knew little about their soon-to-be benefactor/employer/whateverthehellthiscrazyoldguywas.

He looked around the room.

"Anyone else?" he asks, looking from the dwarf, to the sarariman, to the guy who looks like he walked off the set of Hatchetman: Spurs of Steel.

"I've done one or two things, though I've never really worked directly for him. It's usually been 'get some obscure book' or 'drive these people somewhere'."

Sweetness sniffs, "Ah, the brew is almost done. Is everyone comfortable?"

Looking around at the others, "I don't "work" for Nigel, though clearly we share common interests, and it appears we are all in trade together."

Nigel returns to the room his hands full from a large serving tray, adorned with a large teapot, tea cups, a sugar bowl, a small creamer, and a plate of muffins. "Oh I see we have all arrived, Please...pleasantries first." He motions to the platter and begins to pour tea into the cups.

"It is very good of you all to come, and I do apologize for this most awkward hour. It has no meaning other than it was the most oppurtune." He says as he pours and hands out cups."As is the custom perhaps I should cut to the chase as it were."

Nigel stops to sip at his cup giving everyone enough time to prepare their tea to their liking.

Helping himself to several scoops of sugar, Sweetness quietly murmurs,

"Light thickens; and the crow
Makes wing to the rooky wood:
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse;
While night's black agents to their preys do rouse."

Nigel smiles. "Always a bit of the dramatic my dear friend?" Chuckling..."good show, good show."

Recoil takes a cup of tea and after tasting it first, adds some sugar.

"Light thickens; and the crow
Makes wing to the rooky wood:
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse;
While night's black agents to their preys do rouse."

Recoil comments, "...yeah. How about we just get to the point? I skipped poetry class."

Nigel smiles politely ."Yes, perhaps we should as the hour is very late indeed." Nigel makes a show of setting down his tea cup slowly before continuing."A series of strange events have transpired of late." Nigel displays a few E-pages from the Seattle Herald in his hand, before passing them out to the assembled. "The main fact, one that isnt reported is that all the children had recently passed the McInver's test."

Nigel lets that last bit sink in, the McIver test, the international Magical Aptitude standard for those in the know.

"The next bit that seemed to not make an credible news sources but, the tabloids is summarized as this. A tall gangly and pale predator that feasts upon the blood of small children." Nigel stops for a moment in thought." They gentlemen, I believe to be correct."

"Sounds nasty," Clay says. "I'm guessing you want us to do something about this bugger? Like kick his sorry kid-killing ass?"

Reading over the variosu articles Leo thinks to himself "I really should pay closer attention to the news"

"Sounds nasty," Clay says. "I'm guessing you want us to do something about this bugger? Like kick his sorry kid-killing ass?"

"I certainly would have no qualms about doing wetwork on something or someone who snatches helpless cubs like this one does." He looks over at the tea and out of professional politeness has a cup with several lumps of sugar. Suprisingly he finds he really likes this stuff and as such, "Mmm this is really good. May I have another cup please?"

"I certainly would have no qualms about doing wetwork on something or someone who snatches helpless cubs like this one does." He looks over at the tea and out of professional politeness has a cup with several lumps of sugar. Suprisingly he finds he really likes this stuff and as such, "Mmm this is really good. May I have another cup please?"

Swtich holds the cup of tea in his hand as it slowly cools. He ignores the brew, perferring to read and reread the article several times over.

"Something is rotten..." Sweetness displays a sour expression while taking a sip of his sweetened tea.

Looking at Nigel, "By Duty I am bound."

"But the rest of you, will you play your parts?" Sweetness turns his gaze over those that have remained silent.

It was like a nightmare that he was destined to experience over and over again. Denying him any respite from the dark places he'd lived in for so long. He had never participated in the Rituals of his former Order, he'd advanced past the noviate but never been accepted as one of full members of the Order. Still, his position as aide de-camp had allowed him access to information forbidden to most magicians.

Zu reviewewd the articles, opening a file and noting the publisher, the reporter and any source names, as well as all of the factual data the articles contained concerning the crimes themselves but hesitated to commit.

He felt tired, not physically tired but tired none the less. When he'd come to Seattle he had lost himself in the details of life in the shadows, putting from his mind the guilt and conflict over what he'd been and done. Part of him wanted to let this job go, let someone else plunge into the Dark, afraid that if followed this trail it would lead him back to a Dark place where he could once again loose the person he wanted to be. Another part of him had already committed to solving this mystery. That part was wrapped around the guilt associated with all the things he'd done and his innate curiosity which he could suppress but never set aside. He teetered on the balance point.

Young one, if you choose not to undertake this task then others less suited to it will try and may fail.

Ya, but if get involved and I loose control again then in destroying this monster I may become one far worse. Can I take that chance, is it really worth it?

So you are willing to doom more innocent children to such a certain and horrible end rather than place your self in a place where you might be at risk. If more children die will your conscience be any less tortured?

No, either way I bleed, but if I try and become what the Master of my old Order were is the world better off? I can't help but think of the lives lost and destroyed for the amusement of that creature that controlled us.

The world of one small child will be better off, even if it is only one small child's life who is saved isn't the risk worth it? That one child who may do great things but who, without your help, will die young and in the Dark.[U][/U]

Zu sighed, accepting the wisdom of his mentor on this matter. He still felt drawn to the power he'd wielded before, when he'd seen the Masters of his Order manipulated the lives of hundreds. Masters whose Art dwarfed the imagination. He'd started off burning with the need to learn their Art, but he'd come to understand that power was power and it was all a rush. He had vowed to avoid that lure in the future, but if he fled now and more children died then he would be just as guilty, in his own mind, as if he'd held the knife that took their lives.

"I am committed."

"So let me get this straight," Recoil says, "there's a bunch of awakened children out there and something that's been going around killing them. Seems rather obvious that there's more going on than just a random killer. But why was the fact that they're all awakened not reported? Is there something else about this that isn't being mentioned?"

From what he could immediately gather, someone didn't want the fact that this was magic-related getting out to the public. If that's the case, then the reason for the group gathered in this room became apparent.

"Ah Mister...Recoil, excellent question. The aptitude tests I have recovered through my own means, were not available to the parents or are they at the present time. That is the most difficult part of this situation to comprehend, and one that I will personally attend to." Nigel pauses momentarily to sip on his tea.

"I am requesting your aid in finding these children during my foray into the matter." Setting his tea cup down with a small clatter."Gentlemen, I am finding myself slightly burdened at the moment, I can offer little in the way of financial gain at the moment."

Looking wearily he continues." I will understand if any refuse, and will bear you no ill will but, for all that is wrong in this world, you all have a chance to bring some good into it."

Pacing around the small room."Gentlemen, you are presented the oppurtunity to carry a candle that will pierce the darkness of night."

"As I stated, I am committed, money is not the issue at this moment.

Zu made it clear that money was an issue, just not the most pressing one.

"If these tests weren't available to the parents then how did the kill know? Were the tests all conducted by the same agency? The data leak will obviously lead us to the killer since the information could not have been widely distributed if the parents didn't have it yet."

"Yes," Switch says, looking up from the zine sheets for the first time.

All traces of pensiveness had fled from his visage, replaced by a calm, concerned expression.

"Whose tests? How did you get them?"

"Ahhh, renumerations, 'Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie', I shall attend to this. In these cases there are often public funds raised to reward those who prove helpful. I have means to arrange this, and to ensure your just rewards."

This is not something you can decline you DO know that.

Bah why not? Its not going to pay anything!

Grrr! Someone is snatching helpless cubs! More than that they are cubs from the same pride as you! YOU CAN NOT LET THAT CHALLENGE LIE UNASNWERED!

"Don't you growl at me!" Leo stops in mid sentence coming to the sudden realization that he said that out loud.

Hearing the purring laugh Oh sure laugh it up we will continue this later

"Ahem um yeah as I was saying whomever is doing this must be stopped and with any good fortune we will find the children alive and be able to return them to their families. So I guess I am saying I am in and you can count on me."

The mention of the lack of pay was a little disheartening. While these mage-types may be in this for the charity and don't have a much need for physical posessions, Recoil however had expenses to consider, especially if it came down to some action. Fuel and ammunition can't just be magicked up. But again in a situation like this it's not like he can say no, it's for a good cause anyway.

"Don't you growl at me!" The sudden outburst caught Recoil by surprise. Was that in response to something we said, or is he just arguing with himself? He wondered if that guy was shouting at the cat.

In response to the comments made by the others, Recoil spoke up, "In any case, I don't think you need to worry about anyone here backing out. We all have our... reasons for being here and I think that we'd all like to hear more about what we need to do."