The Mycologist turned to his new, less eager compatriot, and gave him a wide, bright (literally?) grin. "My good man, perhaps you do not entirely grasp the concept, the BEAUTY, of our surroundings. We are in the Neath, a marvellous land of myth and legend. Down here, men can live for a thousand years, be stabbed in the heart and walk it off, Turn themselves into monsters of bone and rubber! Surely, even if your true desire, your deepest desire, cannot be attained, you can find some [i]consolation[/i] in the marvels that surround us," he gave the man a sly wink, "And give it the old college try, why not?" Of course, the things the Mycologist said were... Half truths, in honesty. Men could live for a thousand years... But they would no longer be men. You could survive a fatal wound... But you'd be trapped in the Neath forever. And to become an otherworldly being for the sake of power... Was that really an option any sane person would even consider? But the Mycologist did choose his words carefully for a reason. If this man refused... Then the Mycologist would not receive his desire either. And he needed to see his great work completed.