Eternal Life
Regeneration: Standard
In the beginning, it surprised me to learn how quickly the rumour that Cleopatra and I had committed suicide at Alexandria had spread. I suppose it really was a believable ending - surrounded as we were by the legions of my former allies Octavian and Lepidus, our armies scattered and in disarray. Cleopatra had fled there, fearful of my wrath over her premature retreat from the great sea battle which sealed my defeat at Octavian's hands. With my last vessel I followed her to the great city, angered at her for the first and final time over her disloyalty. As Shakespeare had written, she had hoped to avoid my wrath by sending word that she had committed suicide. In anguish over the loss of my love, I did indeed fall upon my own sword - an egregious wound whose scar has never fully healed. When I recounted the story over a thousand years later, I had asked the Bard to end his play as he always did, in tragic death for all. In truth, however, neither of us died that day. My lifeblood slipping from the gaping tear in my gut, I was found by Cleopatra and taken to a secret chamber within the walls of the great temple. There, in desperation, my love performed the most dangerous of ceremonies - a curse never spoken of by her people, a magic both feared and condemned. Her spell healed my wound, but granted unto the both of us eternal life - the most hellish fate imaginable for an Egyptian, who awaits the grace of their Gods in the afterlife. The scar I bear from that day was the last I ever received. The curse had returned to us our youth and vigour before condemning us to eternity, but from that day forward we never aged a single day. We never grow ill. Our wounds always heal and fade. I fear that we shall never die.
The Experience of Ages
Tactician: Standard
For many years we wandered the lands together, bound to each other in love and circumstance. We lived not as Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt and Antony, Imperator of Rome, but as ordinary people devoid of the trappings of wealth and power. It was an adjustment, to be sure, but we had little choice if we hoped to avoid the grip of Octavian. Even after his death - after the whole of the Roman Empire crumbled to dust we kept our identities secret. Though our enemies had perished, we could not let people know of our curse lest we be reviled as demons, monsters, abominations before the Gods. Instead we wandered the many lands of the earth, never in any place for too long. In time, we had visited what seemed to us the whole of the known world. In boredom, we began idle pursuits - mastering crafts and professions previously unknown to us. Eternity is an awfully long time, and if we did not keep ourselves busy the sheer magnitude of our days would drive us mad. I held many professions over the years - far too many to recount. I have mastered a thousand trades and store in my weary head 100 lifetimes worth of knowledge. No detail of the human condition, of man's existence on this earth has gone beyond my study at some point in my long life. Where once my skills were limited to war and politics, now the scope and breadth of my knowledge is staggering. Despite this great advantage however, these past few centuries I had suffered from a profound malaise, lost in purpose as I was. These modern times have made the many lifetimes lead before obsolete - the world is a different place now, cold and impersonal. I found myself longing for those days in Rome. In the Senate. With my legions. I could inspire people then. I could move men with my words and deeds, rally armies and shape the world. How young I was, by comparison - how limited was my experience. Yet still, despite having lead only a single lifetime, the Antony of old had something I did not - a passion, a drive which had over the many long years turned into a feeble, detached apathy. With centuries behind me and an eternity ahead, with what urgency did things need doing? Why expend my energies on that which, to me, would last for a mere moment in my eternal life?
Cleopatra
Pheremones: Standard
As been the case throughout the ages, it was my love who at last lead me to my inspiration. Cleopatra has always been a woman of incredible beauty - a precious flower whose bloom never fades. No matter what distant corner of the world we found ourselves in, men would stop dead in their tracks paralyzed by a single look, a casual smile. Every motion of her body was a graceful ballet - an effortless perfection which would capture the hearts of men and the scorn of women. Though my own interests have fluctuated greatly during our eternal life, Cleo has kept close to her those few pleasures which bring her the greatest joy, and the most admiration. For centuries I have watched her dance - her lithe form entrancing me with the fluidity of her movements. In each new land and each new era she gladly adjusted, learning and mastering the dances of that time and place. It was at a dance club in New York, on Earth, that inspiration struck me. I was there, as always, watching my love... but slowly, and for the first time in my ageless years, my attention shifted from her endless beauty. The crowd moved in unison to the music. They reacted as a whole, danced as a whole, lived as a whole - a fluid mass inspired and entranced by the music - music controlled by one man. The DJ. With a benign and subtle direction, this one man inspired and enraptured hundreds of people at once. His followers were of all ages, races and gender. From lowly busboys to high-powered lawyers to the Queen of Egypt herself, he brought them together, unified in a groove that not even the beauty of Cleopatra could interrupt. Ancient passions long since forgotten stirred once more as I discovered the method by which I would inspire men once more.
The Set List
Environmental Awareness: Superior
I immediately immersed myself in the craft, observing and learning from DJ's throughout the western world. The technical aspects, with enough time and patience, were easy enough to master - back spinning, beat juggling, layering, chirping, twiddling... all feats of dexterity more than of any particular artistry. The real challenge was in reading the crowd. In my early days, I would obsess over my set list, mapping out each and every song and transition well in advance and sticking to my plan without fail. I approached my duties as if I were commanding my Legions - I laid out a battle plan and expected my men to follow orders to ensure my success. Needless to say, I failed miserably. What I came to understand is that being a DJ is not at all like commanding an army. My followers do not heed my commands, but obey their own needs and desires. It is not my job to bend them to my will, but rather I should bend to theirs. The DJ is the slave, not the master. It is they who write my set list, not I. The DJ must be able to feel the crowd's reaction, to know what it is which will entrance them. I must use every sensory cue, every observation I can muster about the people, the club, the lighting, the ambiance - anything which will allow me to create for them the perfect groove. In time, my intuitions in this regard grew to match my skills and with it, my fame as a DJ. I would travel the world, from club to club bringing happiness and unity to the faceless masses who came to hear me. In all my many years I had never experienced such a profound understanding of the human condition - a oneness with the primal forces which guide mankind. After two millennia of simply living, at last I was truly ALIVE.
The Perfect Groove
Emotion Control: Supreme
As I moved about the globe practicing my art at clubs and raves, my passion for the lifestyle grew. The music, the venues, the slang and most importantly the people - I embraced them as I embraced the soldiers under my command so many years ago - as brothers. With my own family two millennia in the grave I, for the first time in many centuries, felt a kinship - a sense of inclusion which was thicker than blood. As the crowds accepted me, so too did they accept my music. My sets inspired them, lifting from them all troubles and insecurities and replacing them with a vibe, an energy more positive than any they had ever experienced. For all the death and destruction I caused expanding the great Roman Empire, it filled me with a profound sense of redemption to finally do something to the benefit of the common man. They came and they danced. Then they came again - and again. In time my following grew to many hundreds, each seeking that which they could only find within the hallowed walls of the dance clubs - freedom. Freedom from care, freedom from worry. Freedom to be who they were, to act as they wanted, to dance in whatever way the groove led them. Once they found the Perfect Groove, they never wanted it to end.
The Never-Ending Jam
Bio Vampire: Ultimate
It was only after many years as a DJ that I began to understand the music's potential, and the dark forces which were guiding my efforts. I was in a dance hall in Milan which was packed to the rosters with gyrating youths, eager to hear my infamous sets. It felt good to be back in Italy - a homecoming of sorts which always made me reflective, more at peace. The crowd was very energetic and completely into the music. With each record I spun, they danced harder and harder, giving themselves more completely to the groove. My darling Cleo urged them on, writhing seductively as she danced in the go-go cage next to my DJ booth. The people cheered with each new transition and redoubled their energy and enthusiasm. It was Cleopatra who felt it first. I was far too distracted by my duties and the vibe of the club to sense it, but she slowly stopped dancing and looked out upon the crowd. It was that look which caught my attention - like a shepherdess looking out upon her sheep, knowing that a wolf was near but unable to see it. The crowd continued their frenzied dancing unaware of my Queen's concern - unaware that is, until a young woman collapsed and fell to the ground. For the entire night she had danced, unable or unwilling to stop, and at last the intensity of her activities caught up with her. Soon another fell, and then another. By the time I had stopped the music, a dozen lie motionless on the ground while still others continued their macabre dance, oblivious of the haunting silence which now cut through the heat of the club. Where others were concerned, my only thoughts were of frustration - disappointment that I had to interrupt my set. As we later learned, eight of those who fell never again got up - the first casualties of my newfound obsession. The curse which had condemned us to eternal life it seems, had not yet played it's last cruel trick.
The Dance of the Damned
Necromancer: Standard
My next performance was in Munich and I had tried hard to put the events of the previous week behind me. Cleopatra was far more concerned than I. Looking back I think she could sense what was happening, viewing the unfolding events as if they were shadows on a wall - distinct in their form and yet still unclear. As always the crowd was very responsive - unnaturally so, in retrospect. As I weaved my way through my set, I could feel the vibe building in the room. The crowd was loving it. They had committed themselves in body, mind and soul to the unity of the perfect groove. With every fade, every back switch, every transition I could feel the energy in the room growing to a crescendo and like a madman I plunged on - craving their response like I once craved the consulship of Rome. So engrossed in my efforts was I that I had not noticed the first few to fall. Even my love Cleopatra, so aware of the looming evil at first, was too caught up in the glory of the music to notice - dancing madly in her go-go cage. Ten had fallen by the time I realized that something was wrong, but this time I refused to stop the music - to interrupt that which I had begun. Security personnel had gone to them and pulled them from the writhing throng, limp and devoid of life - exhausted and spent like a fire which had burned until no fuel remained. As I continued the set, I watched them, lying on couches and on the floor as patrons danced around them, barely noticing their plight. Then, without warning, one of the figures shot upwards and to her feet. Still pale and cold, she pushed past those around her and once more thrust herself into the throng. One by one the dancers would fall, only to rise again and keep going. They too had become victims of the curse of eternal life - the increasingly undead mob growing stronger as the living forfeited their lifeforce to the groove. They had truly become slaves to the rave.
Slaves to the Rave
Necromancer: Standard
So now you may ask, as I stand behind my turntables spinning my sinister magic before another unsuspecting crowd why it is that I continue. Am I evil? Am I corrupt for sacrificing the lives of the innocent to further my own obsession? Perhaps, but if I am then I am no worse than my days in Ancient Rome. There too did I sacrifice the lives of my men to further my own goals masked in the guise of glory for the Empire, but it matters not. After 2000 years of walking the Earth I grow tired of living for the sake of living. I have grown selfish and detached in my old age. All that matters now is making my eternal life fulfilling - achieving the sense of unity and purpose which has escaped my grasp. To those who's lives are sacrificed so that the curse may exact it's vengeance I hold no pity. Though undead, they no longer have the concerns and worries of the living. They have no heartache, no loss, no misery. They are preserved - captured in a single rapturous moment of freedom which no earthly pleasure could afford them. It is my gift to them. It is my reason for living. And so I find myself here in this distant world, spinning my music for fools, madmen and tyrants - the only group I've ever encountered detached enough from their own sanity to understand what it is I'm trying to do. It has taken a hundred lifetimes, but at last I have found out who Marc Antony really is. I am not a soldier. I am not a politician. I am not a lover, a fighter, a craftsman or a scholar. I am Marc Antony of Rome. I am a DJ.
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