The lost soul looks down at himself, and suddenly begins to manifest a solid form. He's male, tall, with long black hair and golden eyes. He's wearing a wide brimmed hat, a long un-lined coat, gloves, boots, and two swords, one on either side of his hips. He takes off his hat and bows gracefully to them both. "Mithias Varomere." He stands and accepts his beer mug, which suddenly becomes a fire mug. "I haven't decided anything yet, Bob." The faint sounds of screaming were mildly unsettling. He hold the brilliant liquid at a distance from himself. "Erm, must this concoction be on fire at the present moment?"