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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Rolzup" data-source="post: 3161949" data-attributes="member: 10105">Interlude: As The Bishop said to the Pyromaniac....<in the old monastery courtyard on Opium Way, Little Ajakhan, Narayan:CITY, just past sunset> “What lies beneath has many names; Tonjours Faim, Faim Gauche, EfFame Gauche, Mauvasie Faim or simply The Bad Hunger. It is a fragment of an Elder Demon God.” “It. Couldn’t. Just.  Be.  A.  Piece.  Of.  Cake.  Could. It?” purrs Abraxis the mechanical famulus, to himself. “It alone was responsible for the corruption of Father Sebastien Babulaba, the former master of this place. Well, perhaps not ‘alone’… I suppose his inherent wickedness had something to do with it. But that’s neither here nor there.” The man speaking, the retired Archbishop Bartolemiou Bien-Bodhi, hurriedly summoned from the cloisters at Great Temple of Kruetzel on Cavalry Hill, beckons to one of his silent retinue and proceeds to lean heavily against him. He casts a long, slow, sad glance over the ruined statue’s base, and the gaping hole in the ground partially covered by wooden planks hastily gathered by King Daikon. "This must be sealed. And quickly." says the ancient priest. "No one must find out about what lies beneath these stones. This must be kept secret." "That's why you brought a baker's dozen of lackeys with you, then?" says Mallus Lovesworn, emerging from the shadows behind one of the produce stalls. "Secrecy in numbers, eh?” The former archbishop hisses "My men will tell no tales, for they are not men. They are the Risen". Before Mallus can respond, Bartolemiou pinches the guard’s check, and remarkably, comes away with a small piece of his dark flesh. "Behold." he says, as Mallus recoils, "What, you don't like pumpernickel? They are bread golems, fired by my God's own grace. Not the sharpest knives in the kitchen, but they'll fight until the last of their yeast is gone." "But it is true that we cannot do this alone. If only Mr. Darkheart was here. He was a member of the Brotherhood of the Black Worm and a most puissant master of the Ineffable Arts. Or even his apprentice. We turned to them the last time the Hunger made itself known. When its pangs were felt, you could say…” “If. You. Were. An. Idiot.” observes Abraxis, sotto voce.  “…he would know what to do, how to seal the Hunger in again, just like he did the first time.” “Since when do Kruetzel’s commandments include ‘Thou shall cover up’ and ‘Thou shall rely on diabolists’?” asks Mallus. “I thought you were the good guys, I mean, as far as organized religions go.”“It was a different time then, it was during the Troubles. Narayan was swarming with Hannikum refugees fleeing the famine there; freed slaves, starving bondsmen, heretics the Priest-King emptied from his jails. We had race riots, faith riots, and on every corner Hannikum preachers denouncing CITY’s gods as demons. If word has gotten out that one of our priests in charge of an orphanage was worshipping a demon, that he abused children and actually ate a few of them… our temples would have been burnt to the ground. And then it would have been rough crumpets all around. It’s not like you can feed the poor a diet of obsidian knives. Besides, we tried to exorcise the shrine ourselves. It didn’t work.”“The barrier appears to be in place” notes Lord Kenji, is a silken voice that suggests some deadly female courtesan dressed only in razor-edged unmentionables.  “I am afraid the black barrier below is meant to keep petitioners out, not the Hunger in. Did you not see the painting by the altar? Three demons leading Sebastian to his unholy assignation?" He pauses, “New petitioners will come. The Hunger will reach out to its kind again, unless we act, and act quickly. And Mr. Darkheart is long gone.” "Didn't you say Darkheart had an apprentice? I mean, don't 'they' always? And aren't we really talking about a catamite?" asks Mallus. "Yes." says the Bartolemiou. "I mean, no. I have no idea what Darkheart's...predilections... were, but he did have young student with him, name of Mephisophocles. A very serious boy with a serious cat." “Who.  Is.  Currently.  Hiding.  Out.  As.  A.  Department.  Chair.  In.  The.  University. Is.  Meat.  Inherently. Stupid?” asks Abraxis of himself.  "We need help, and yet we needs tell as few as possible. Only the most trusted, yes. We need to be subtle, and quick, and...."He pauses again to survey the scene in the courtyard; Burne sketching a bizarre helmet-like apparatus in an available patch of dirt, Kenji-sama, staring furiously into space, as if trying to conjure up the specter of Nadir Akmad-Medhi to stab, Rackhir, looking both fierce and stoic after his draining twin brushes with sex and death, though not necessarily in that order, and Meiji, looking simultaneously alert, intrigued, and ready to hop the next ship for the Empire of the Three Pillars of HeavenThe archbishop slumps against his golem-at-arms with the force of a deflating souffle. "... and we need a miracle." Burne, after making a final and decisive scrawl, stands up and brushes off his hands.  "Genius," he declares cheerfully.  "My own brilliance never fails to astound me.” “You know," he continues, "There's absolutely nothing that good Erisian craftsmanship can't accomplish!  I tell you, this is a revolutionary idea, and...." He trails off, abruptly registering the slumped form of the archbishop and the puzzled glare of Mallus.  "It's...a helmet," he continues, weakly.  "Protective measure, and all that.  Really, quite, quite...." Burne sighs.  "Yes, well.  Obviously we have other concerns, eh? We'll have to track Mephisophocles down, one way or another.  And I?  I have yet another brilliant idea!" A pause, for dramatic effect.  "We will track him...through his familiar!" Burne pivots neatly in place, with military precision.  "Abraxis!  To me!" The mechanical cat looks up from Burne's sketch, which it appears to have been studying with some faint interest. "Master.  How.  May.  I.  Be. Of.  Service?" it asks, in a resigned tone."Abraxis, my famulus!  I shall need you to infiltrate the local feline community!" Another long pause.  Not, this time, for dramatic effect. "Beg.  Pardon.  Master?"  One wouldn't have thought it possible for a mechanical cat to sound so appalled.  But once again, Burne manages to astound.</blockquote>

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