News travels slow...

Most times, news travels slow...

Somewhere an Astropath picks up a message and passes it along. Somewhere else, maybe another Astropath picks it up, maybe he doesn't. So on down the line untill the news reaches someone important. Maybe he passes it on, maybe he doesn't.

In the Tricorn fortress, towering above the northern end of Hive Sibellus, a dozen Astropaths recieve a message, shouted across light years of empty space from Iocanthos to Scintilla. Messengers are called, Adepts summoned, and Inquisitors notified. Before the end of the day, a file has been pulled and updated and a name struck from the Annals.

A new name is written in a new book. Wanted slates are updated, and Witch Hunters called. By the end of the day, the rumors and whispers have spread down from the upper echelon of power down through the Acolytes and into the street of a new name. "The Burning Princess." A former Acolyte gone rogue, they say.

Because sometimes, news travels fast.

'The burning princess... The singularly most dangerous being I've ever met, and I've emt a full-on demon. If she's rogue...they'll want information. This should make my job a lot easier.'
Dierrus answers the summoning with the first true smile in almost a year. 'I wonder how the deathbringer, the claimer, and the deijugger are doing? It's been so long. Now THOSE were interesting times.' His posturing in the inquisition was actually quite awkward and starting to weigh a bit on his mind. His alleged supervisor was dead. His actual inquisitor was missing. 'In the chain of command, I think my first cover is the supervisor of my second cover. And who does that one answer to?' He reflected on the simpler times, when all he needed worry about was a sociopathic killer of unmatched prowess and ferocity, a neurotic schitzophrenic psiker of demonic potential, and that batbarian thief who's suicidal lack of self preservation often revealed the true depth of her ability (or was it luck?). Much simpler times, indeed...

'Now, I will have to hide that I am self authorizing when I volunteer, pending clearance from my supervisor. I will have to remind them that she views me as friend, but hide the mutuality in that. I will need to be honest when I express that I can kill her, not just report information, if in the name of justice. Be careful there... Justice, not law... not the empire... three very different things.'
'And what has she been up to this past year? My rep has neither grown nor faded; but hers... This is major. I wonder what she did this time. Hmph... burning princess. They empower her. This much belief... the ether, itself, will swell with her name. They will send demons to worship her. Gods save us all if she has fallen. At least on this mission, I'll be the first to know and the first to go. I don't want to live in that kind of suffering.'

"No catering this time!" the brutish guardsman barked, rifle butting D'Jeh'Aemme to the floor. "Beat it, scum!"
...
...
"Oh. Uh, sorry." Even in uniform, it took a while for the badge to differentiate him from the common folk around here. As always, this made him very content. Proud and happy with himself. Besides, the rising bruise might help him escape too much questioning should he meet resistance about volunteering.

(1 Fellowship - Decieve - Get any guard, passively, to miss the badge)

The member 'Wombat' has done the following action : Dice Rolls

'D100' :

Result : 88

(Unfortunately, an 88 is still a fail my friend, even with your Decieve score)

As you pick yourself up, the guard notices your rosette. His face pales immediately, and he snaps to attention.

"My.. apologies sir, I didn't recognize you. Your forgiveness, please."

This touching little moment gets interrupted as a messenger, this one dressed thankfully in plain clothes (Finally, someone must've read that memo) notices the commotion and taps you on the shoulder.

"My pardons, Sir" he respectfully says, bowing his head slightly "Have you seen the Acolyte Deirusse?" He badly mispronounces your name. "I was told to give him a message, but frankly have had not much luck. Have you seen him?"

(After a moment of snoopy laughter) "I am sorry my friend. This morning, yes. But not since I left the lavoratory. Odd, though, the function of mirrors."

(and if he doesn't get it) "Yes, it IS me." <present ID>

The messenger checks the ID.

"Ah! Excuse me, Sir. You look nothing like the picture I was shown." He hands D a small envelope. White envelope, red Inquisitorial seal, stamped in wax.

The message contained therein is simple and to the point.

"D" I need to see you. You know what this is about. I'll see you in the study"

It bears Flavius's seal, but the writer doesn't identify himself. He doesn't have to though. Flavius would never call him"D" nor refer to "The" study. This would be Flavius's aide Soloman, or "Gunner" as he's more commonly referred to. With Flavius off world, attending to some matter or another, Soloman is handling business in his name. With Lucien an Inquisitor in his own right, Soloman has some big shoes to fill, and he knows it. Thus Soloman never signs his name, preferring to hide behind to seal of his Master.

"Ah.. and one more message. Arrived for you just as I was leaving, so I rushed off with it too. Straight from a Chartist captain, to me, to you." He winks. He may be slow but at least he's well trained. He hands you a small, thin, data slate. Minimal function, one time use by the look of it.

You click to activate.

A message appears on the screen, then vanishes after a moment. The data slate goes unresponsive.

Single use indeed.


(The text of the message can be found in your PM)

...
...
...
<D gets a look like he almost soiled his spiffies>
"LUCIAN'S CAT!!!" he shouts after several quiet moments.

'Soloman first. What does he want? ... What are they looking at (to those around him)?
'Oops.. First thing was out loud, huh?' He looks at the guardsman (and messenger if he is still here). "What is it? It's just a cat. Gotta feed it. See ya 'round." 'Okay... Soloman first, then ... I gotta trace this. Hmm... where is it from?'


D will start a trace on the message panel's origen (where it was sent from or purchased would do) and go see Soloman. He will be distracted at the meet-up.

Btw, 'this' is a thought, but "that" is spoken. I'll start using green for speach and orange for thinkings.

The antechamber to Flavius's study is exactly how D remembers it. A large room with an arched ceiling situated in the interior of one of the three towers that make up the tricorn. A large wooden door, made of some unfathomable wood taken from some obscure tree on Dusk. Sturdy, thick, and ornate, one of the few things in the room that was. Behind that door is Flavius's study a poorly lit cavern filled with mountains of books of all natures. A desk sets on the side of the room, between the entrance and the large doors ahead of you. A thick jawed, dark haired man sits impatiently behind it.

We'll come back to him in a minute.

Next to you are the seats that you, Roth, Ophelia and Scythia waited to meet each other years ago, when you were first inducted to the Inquisition. There's no windows in this room; Flavius has never felt the need to admire the view.

The man behind the desk clears his throat.

He looks uncomfortable. And more than a little unsteady.

"D. I'm sure you heard. We've a problem and her name is Scythia."

"Of course... News travels fast for some. And you want something of me. You might think I know where she is... No. Not yet."

'I can't play my cards too quickly. But I also can't be too coy.'

Deirrus turns his frown into a smile, now offering full focus.

"Ah"... Soloman pauses "I thought, perhaps she might try to get in touch with you, given your previous relationship" He taps his fingers on his chair, suddenly less sure of himself. Deirrus can almost see it in his mind 'Lucien would know what to do. What would Lucien do?'

"Well... I want you to keep your ear to the ground. You have contacts, connections.. People talk to you. Let me know what you can find. She's liable to try to ask her former allies for help. I can count on you, can't I D?" Strong words. Little meaning. But it makes him sound like he's in control of the situation, and a little confidence seems to run back into him.

Interesting question though.

Can he count on him?

D does nothing to hide the confused expression he gives for a few moments. Confused (but by what) and penetrating. Like he's trying to sneak into the chicken coup past the fox.

"I think you're right. She probably will. The Princess needs companionship. Without it, she... <stifled laugh> and everything around her... is liable to melt down."
'And since when was he... Eh... I never could keep track of these damn ranks...'

"... and... I have always been able to be counted on." With a smile telling that he knows the fox has seen him, he begins to withdraw from the chamber.

A day, two perhaps, and the news is slow in coming. Until breakfast, when a familiar face sits down across from him. Gun Metal City. Two days from now. she adds sweetener to her coffee and sips as if she hasn't just passed along secrets. Tell her I'm sorry but I can't leave. Job's injury and the battle for Iocanthos has aged Ophelia a little around the edges, but only someone who knows her face well would notice it.

It ate my post. :-(

He finds the meeting with smiles and warmth. He tries to extend the visit with tails of the many heretics they, collectively and independently, brought to enlightenment. He leaves the meeting with a frown. 'Please... don't ask me to pick sides.'

To Gun Metal City. Carr Dimley will arrive soon. After that, Deirrus will already be there (Carr was a person he impersonated and Roth ate in the mean-time).