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| − | The City can be cold and unfeeling. It’s vast and old and seems to breathe and move without a thought for the tiny little creatures that live atop its gleaming neon pelt. You all almost certainly feel this more acutely than others. Crushed by the eight of corporate responsibilities, thrust into an inescapable life of crime, pushed, pulled, twisted and warped by the rhythms of life in The City. Even when that small glimmer of light, that aching part of you that burst into being when you least expected it to, was suddenly made manifest, the sensation of being a puppet on strings seemed only to grow more acute. Now hounded by others of your ilk, or forced into hiding from that strange, ineffable sensation that blinds the sleeping to the expressions your great stories. You are all tools, and your powers are tools too, but something shifted when you first brought ruin to another, or channeled ancient spirits, or reflected an wound onto an assailant. You felt your power deepen and groan, like a cat stretching it’s legs and unsheathing its claws. The entity inside you - or rather, the entity that is you - is no longer pleased by being used for the whims of others. Perhaps your time is coming soon, perhaps you are about to shake the foundation of the city itself, perhaps you might finally be able to take control of your life.
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