<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d6/MolochMask.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: comic sans ms;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><em>Moloch, #2882</em></span></span><br/><strong>Where: </strong>Backyard<br/><strong>When: </strong>Friday, Dusk<br/><strong>Who: </strong>Any<br/><strong>Status: </strong>Open<br/><hr/><br/>Moloch stepped out of the rear of the mansion and padded on bare feet across the cool stone path to the soft grass surrounding the fountain.  As he stood gazing toward the horizon, watching the sun sink below it, he removed a cigarette and match from the pocket of his robe, striking the match with his thumbnail and lighting his cigarette with a deep sigh of satisfaction.  He shook the match out and waited a moment to let it cool before dropping it back into his pocket, unwilling to discard trash on the beautifully maintained landscape.  He dragged deeply of the rich, lightly-spiced tobacco as he drifted over to take a seat on one of the stone plinths to the side of the stairs that led to the fountain.  Crossing his legs, adjusting his robe to ensure it continued to provide the utmost coverage, he lifted his glass of scotch to chase the flavor of his cigarette with the smoky taste of single-malt.<br/><br/>The sound of the fountain was soothing, the view of the sunset was unparalleled and he reveled in the subtle shift in temperature as the warmth of day was replaced by the silken coolness of the night.  Blue-grey smoke drifted up lazily from the glowing tip of his cigarette as he took another deep pull, enjoying the slight breeze quickened by the setting sun as it ruffled his hair.  While he had been coming long enough to grow accustomed to the mask, and his was particularly well-fitted, he still longed to remove it so that he could feel the air across his face.  He understood the necessity, and particularly appreciated the chance to be Moloch, utterly anonymous.  Still, there were times the blasted thing got on his nerves and he had to resist the nearly overwhelming urge to cast it off.  He knew, of course, that to do so in a public venue would deny him the sanctity and delights of the club, so the benefit of resisting such urges far outweighed the minor annoyance of the mask.<br/><br/>He felt the itch to expose his face to the teasing breeze pass, and rewarded his own fortitude with another sip of scotch, gazing at the panorama of gold, orange, violet and blues that blended across the sky like an Indian blanket.<br/>