We are Pentaurus. We have forged the destinies of our descendants and their descendants. We have guarded the powers that create their conflicts, wielded the forces that destroy them.
You, Hernandez, persuaded the Duke of Parma to stay his communication to the Armada, to its utter ruin.
You, Klein, sparked the witch hunts in Germany, snuffing out their superstitious meddling into our affairs.
You, Jiung, incited the Red Turban Rebellions, bringing about the fall of the Yuan dynasty.
You, Erasmus, opened the door to the Crusaders when they sacked Constantinople.
And I, Darpo, sent the shaft that ended Harold’s life. I stood by William, when he put the crown of England upon his head.
We have stood the test of millennia. The forces we wield grow ever stronger, but our bodies are growing weak. Our lowly flesh can only endure such power for so long.
The Pentaurus cannot continue within us.
We must find a vessel, a body in which to seed our powers. When the time is right, the forces shall leave the vessel and enter the minds and souls of the new Pentaurus.
Come, my brethren, time grows short for us. It is our destiny to ensure the survival of the Pentaurus. The forces of darkness depend upon it. What say you?
In the darkened cellar, four men answered,
So be it done.