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"John," a voice noted from behind the swordsman as a crackle announced the entry of someone through the teleportation gateway. He turned, coming face
to face with a gentleman of indeterminate age. The pale man had no hair under his wide-brimmed hat and he seemed to have not seen the sun in several months. In
fact, if not for the hat and the reflective golden glasses that he wore, his facial features would almost resemble nothing more than a more humanoid version of
the Column's(no, the Council's, John reminded himself again) Vampyri, or a particularly animate skull. He wore
a plan, dark navy blue cloak over a similar colored great coat, along with some hard leather gloves and folded over boots that had gone out of style amongst
the major populace decades ago. All in all, he seemed to be a figure that had stepped out of a Victorian era intrigue novel or movie, and he gazed at the
Eleventh Hour co-leader with an impassive expression.

"Alistair!" John Prester said as he moved to shake the hand of the newcomer that'd just entered the base. "I'd gotten your letter a
while ago that said you were coming back. You made it faster than I predicted."

Alistair smiled back somewhat wanly. In truth, the expression looked almost alien to him, the elder looking mage removing his hat and adjusting his glasses as
he similarly doffed his cloak and hung it up on the coat rack. "Winter's assistance is to be thanked for that, John. Her training's coming along
well. She's almost ready to handle herself on her own. Especially with the new magic she's learning from what Eloise has researched in the latest
changes in theory here."

John nodded, leading Alistair down the stairs and into the somewhat minimalist study and library that the base currently possessed. "I'm afraid
it's not quite as good as the brownstone back in London, but it serves its purpose for now," he explained.

Alistair made a dismissive motion. "Not a problem, John. Really, if it has more of the modern spellwork that you sent us papers on while we were in
Tunguska, I'm sure Eloise will be absolutely fascinated by it. She's already working out new spellcraft based on that paper you sent her about atomic
level necromancy."

John looked up, intrigued. "Really? What's she managed to do with it?"

Alistair chuckled. "She's begun practicing the reversal and selective decay on an atomic level in order to produce radiation by channeling natural
magical energies. It takes a good deal of concentration to keep the effect running, but I dare say, her results are quite effective. Especially when we ran
into some of those Devouring Earth creatures you were telling me about."

"They've spread all the way to Asia?" John confirmed, Alistair nodding. "That's unfortunate. We knew they'd made it to the Rogue
Isles, but transit between there and Paragon City is so common it's almost as if they're the same city sometimes. The Hamidon's range of control
must be growing. We're still working with MAGI about researching the process that he used to turn himself into the Hamidon in the first place...."

Alistair sat down in the chair, nodding. "Eloise actually began her inquiries into her current spells because of that...she thinks it's something to
do with mixing other sciences with magic itself to produce new results."

"Really? That bears investigating indeed," John nodded, and Alistair leaned in as the two mages began considering the various possibilities, pulling
out some scrolls and tomes as they worked. Alistair smiled to himself. It was good to be back.

***

Eloise Schadel had been reading barely ten minutes when she heard a familiar accent of indiscernable neighborhood, just as she'd expected the minute
she'd walked in the Midnight Club's front door. "Well, it's bloody good to see you about here!"

Eloise looked over her shoulder before smiling, the sorceress walking forward to embrace the younger blonde that'd called her name. "It's good to
be back among friends again, Mercedes. We were rather surprised when we heard about the sudden call-up."

Mercedes shrugged, smiling still. "Well, I can't say that times have been the best, between the Rikti returning and my own troubles. But you being
back certainly does help things. Is Alistair with you as well?"

"Yes, and Winter as well. Truth be told, that's why I'm here. I needed to look up an old acquaintance," she smiled.

Mercedes chuckled. "And naturally, the woman that can't keep track of her own things is expected to keep track of every Midnighter's
schedule."

"It's why you're club secretary and treasurer, Mercedes," Eloise teased, getting a laugh.

"Too right. More's the pity," Mercedes said. "So, who is it you're looking to find?"

***

"Well. Settling in well enough, Winter?"

Winter looked up from where she was finally unpacking the last of the boxes, her reflection staring back at her from the reflective surfaces of her
father's glasses. She smiled slightly, even as she set her box of keepsakes on the dresser. "Yeah, dad. Just fine. In fact, I think I finished before
you did," she smirked slightly.

Alistair considered her, a slight chuckle escaping him despite his usual cool manner. "You did at that, dear. Even if you brought twice as much as we did
for the study," he pointed out.

"That just proves I'm more organized," she tossed back, and Alistair chuckled again, acknowledging the point. "Well, if you're all set
up here, I'll be in the study," he said, stepping out of her room. Winter nodded as he did, before waiting until she heard the study's door click
closed and sighing, stretching out across her bed. She loved her father, she really did, but he was so clueless sometimes....

"He can be a little dense, can't he?"

Winter blinked, before shooting upright as her mother entered. "Uh...what do you mean?"

Eloise looked at her with an amused expression that Winter knew she herself tended to mimic when talking to her father. While she'd inherited his deathly
pale skintone, there'd been no mistaking the source of the rest of her looks, or where she'd gotten her stark white hair, even if she didn't have
her mother's coffee brown complexion. Putting such tangents aside, she decided for once not to play dumb. It rarely worked with her mother anyway.

"I know Tunguska wasn't much better, but....this is the third move in five years, mom...."

Eloise smiled softly, sitting down next to her daughter on the bed as she ran a hand through her hair. "Well, I'm no seer, but I suspect this one will
be different."

"Dad said that about Moscow," Winter noted glumly.

"Yes, but this is different from there too. For one thing, the old group is reforming here. John said even Trigram's shown up again."

Winter laughed, looking up at the white cat that'd walked into the room. "Hear that, Callie? Your eternal foe's here as well."

Callie meowed questioningly, and Winter just shook her head, catching the cat as she leapt into her arms and scratching her ears. "So, besides that, what
else is different?"

"Well, for one thing, the Midnight Club's operating in Paragon again...."

Winter blinked as her mother continued.

"In fact, if you register an appointment, I imagine you can even track down Ashley again...when she's not working, of course."

Winter looked back at her before grinning slightly wider and setting Callie down before hugging her mother and bolting out of the room, a quick "Thanks
mom!" trailing after her. Eloise smiled softly to herself as her husband looked after the rapidly departing young girl.

"....you always handle her better," Alistair noted, a touch glumly.

"It's not that hard, dear. Just think of her less like a mage apprentice in training and more like a teenage girl that wants what every teenage girl
wants and you'll do fine."

"Perhaps," Alistair said dubiously. Eloise chuckled at his expression which quite possibly suggested his daughter was as hard to understand as
ancient Sumerian to him. "Well, with her out of the way for the night, shall we attend to a quick night's patrol?"

Eloise chuckled, standing up as a quick cast summoned her robes around her. Alistair waited until they got to the exit before doing the same, a virtual flow of
skeletal iconography decorating his coat and cloak even as a bare skull replaced his face. "Honestly, people these days. You'd think it'd take
less than this gaudy outfit to frighten them into talking when confronted with a mage of some importance."

"Well, you do mostly just punch them," Eloise chuckled, putting an arm around Alistair's forearm.

"With energy from the Netherworld itself. I'll have you know the enchantments involved there are very precise...."

"Of course they are, dear. You still just punch them in the face...."

"That's an oversimplification."

"Whatever you say, dear."
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."
Quote: He wore a plan, dark navy blue cloak over a similar colored great coat
Man has a plan, yo!

Oh, wait. Big Grin

I'm liking the hints of backstory here. They seem intimately familiar with the Midnighters, with previous association... could be intriguing. I
didn't really get much of a feel for the guy out of this, but it feels like there's more to be told.

And, well, mysterious mage from afar, and all that. Smile

Nice, Ops, very nice. More?

--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
This is very nice, and like Sofa said, you've done an excellent job of evoking...you know, I'm not sure how to put it. Call it atmosphere.
-- Acyl