There is a castle in the middle of Europe where they gather every so often. Not often enough to be noticed and not regularly enough to be predictable. They like to remember when they gather, to talk about past history (and there is a *lot* of history between this group), lost friends and those worthy of note.
When you are immortal it’s hard to find a good nemesis and those you do find, should be remembered.
Mark Baker is one such soul. He took down one of their own, he deserves to never be forgotten. A whiskey is poured of an eye-watering vintage but to those who live eternal it’s but a blink of an eye.
“To Mark Baker… his death and may we never see one so dedicated again.”