CAMPFIRE CHATTER.

The last few years of Florian da Vigo's life have been marred by tragedy and loss. First, there was the Black Vale, who tore him from the city and job he adored. Next came the Entity, their idol and his anathema. In the form of black Fog, it swallowed his inventions time and time again. It siphoned away the light in his eyes; the bold resolve that drove him forward. Finally, when he became too much of a liability, it cast him into the Void, leaving him with devastating physical and mental scars. Though he managed to escape, he is no longer the man he used to be. He has grown cold and distant; resentful and fervent; silently furious. He likens himself to a vengeful spirit, driven solely by spite and his desire to slay the god — no, parasite — that ruined him.

But all ghosts were people once, and the comforting warmth of humanity is something Vigo misses so. He breaks away from his introspection to lightly tap the man sitting next to him. Tingling flashes travel through gloved fingers; a foreign feeling, but not a bad one.