You say "Daimon is in Shal-Mari at the moment. What's he up to?"
Daimon says "Hanging out at a cafe, and watching people go by. Playing his favorite game, Detect the Need."
There's a scuffle, as an imp with Kobal's colours banded on one shoulder comes running along the pavement. His eyes flick across the street, and he's obviously looking for someone, desperately.
Daimon says "Can I tell who/what he Needs? I resonante."
He catches sight of you, and he Needs ... _YOU_. He's under direct orders to find you, your image uppermost in his mind. As he sees you, he runs across to throw himself at your feet.
Daimon says "Ah ha. Well, I'm here. How convenient."
Daimon says "I sip my coffee."
The imp tries to catch his breath, blubbering, "Boss, boss, boss... I gotta message for ya."
Daimon leans down and pats the Imp on the head. "You can sit up now.
The imp rubs its gooey little head against your hand, rising to knee-level. "Gee, thanks, boss."
Daimon wipes the hand off on a pantleg.
Daimon says "Okay, spill it.""
Daimon swirls the almond cappachino around in its mug.
The imp takes a breath. "The _Boss_ wants you, boss. Right now. And quietly. He says, the Borgia stage."
You paged Daimon with 'You recognise that as one of the less-used locations in the Casino.'.
Daimon swears.
Daimon says "I'm on it like lunch."
The imp cowers, rapidly.
Daimon takes a last huge bite out of a croissant, and gets up to leave.
The imp watches the remains of cappachino and croissant, hopefully.
You paged Daimon with 'Make a Perception roll.'.
<
Daimon says "Made, check digit 3."
Daimon says "Just barely, but made."
There's a Balseraph down the end of the street, who looks as if he's watching your little encounter
with the imp, though he's too far away to have heard what was said. Probably.
Daimon gives into the Imps Need, and gives him my tastee treats for a small hook, launches over
the metal railing of the coffee shop, and saunters past the Balseraph, not looking at him toward
where my presence was demanded.
<
The Balseraph is a bit careless in his attempt to follow you, and you spot him several times before
you reach the Casino. He stays outside, though you catch sight of him talking to a Djinn.
Daimon ignores them for the time being, but makes a mental note to have a chat with these jokers.
No pun intended.
Daimon says "Okay, maybe a small one."
Inside, the Casino is as humming and busy as ever. Several of your fellow Servitors nod and wave
to you as you wander past, a couple of Lust-Servitors try and catch your eye, and an Impudite
of Theft tries to pick your pocket. The usual.
Daimon doesn't fraternize much more then necessary, and goes to have the meeting with the Boss.
On the Borgia Stage, the Boss is sitting on a chair in the middle of the stage. The auditorium is
silent and full of shadows. He's got his collar undone, his sleeves rolled up, and a pile of
encyclopaedias propped on the floor by him.
Daimon says "The place is empty except for him?"
The place appears to be totally empty, except for him. And you.
Daimon walks up to the stage, looking on the floor with a critical eye for someplace that is not
nasty and goopy to kneel and cower in. The suit was expensive, and dry cleaning is a bitch in Hell.
Kobal looks up from the photo in his lap. "Ah. Leave the sight gags for now, Daimon, I'll assume
you grovelled."
Daimon says "Right-o. You summoned me, my Lord?"
Kobal says "You got it."
Kobal says "We have a minor little problem, Daimon, which I wish to make somebody else's
minor little problem."
Daimon says "My Lord?"
Kobal begins to fold the photo into a paper aeroplane. "You remember that we've got this
storehouse of funny items downstairs? The big one with all the locks on the doors and stuff like
that."
Daimon says "Sure. The one where it's not so much to keep people out then to keep the stuff on
the inside still in."
Kobal says "Yup."
Kobal folds a side wing.
Daimon says "What about it?"
Daimon thinks, "Dear God, don't make me go down there and label that stuff."
Kobal smirks, faintly. "Couple of people have been poking round in there. Two of our guys,
Ashamael and Lucrezio. Not for labelling, either."
You paged Daimon with 'You recognise the names: a Shedite and a Habbalite of Kobal's.'.
Daimon thinks, "A Shedite. JOY."
Daimon says "Yes my Lord? And I take it they aren't supposed to be there?"
Kobal says "Weren't. They borrowed something. The new Archivist says he's almost certain he
thinks he knows what it was."
Kobal's tone grows drier. "They've gone running off with it. Now, _my_ problem is that
Asmodeus knows they've gone running off with it."
Daimon frowns in a big way.
Kobal says "Exactly."
Daimon says "I understand, my Lord. Should they come back in a large box or a small collection
of smaller bite sized chunks?"
Kobal looks thoughtful, for a moment. "Actually, ideally, in a perfect world, they come back
innocent, having done something funny, and the hunters that dear Azzie put on their tail come
back _permanently_ embarassed."
Kobal says "Failing that, it's box time for everyone."
Daimon sighs, and looks thoughtful.
Daimon says "What is your command, my Lord?"
Kobal offers Daimon the aeroplane.
Kobal says "See if you can get it over the footlights."
Daimon takes the aeroplane, and launches it into the air.
The aeroplane does a swan-dive into the shadows of the stalls.
Kobal says "Cool."
Daimon says "Excellent."
Kobal says "All right. Your job is to find out what's going on. If they've got something that they're
doing, find out what it is. If it would be bad for us, do what you can to cover up the mess."
Kobal says "The Game would love their asses on a silver plate, of course, so try and avoid that."
Daimon says "Can I get vessel descriptions, Role description, last known locations, and probably
contacts?"
Kobal raises both eyebrows.
Kobal says "I can give you current location. Azzie sent his people to the Washington DC Opera
House, so that's where they're hiding out."
Kobal says "Oh, and that Relic..."
Kobal bends over, and begins hunting through the encyclopaedias.
Dust flies everywhere.
Daimon sneezes.
Kobal says, absently, "Bless you. All right." He finds an entry in one book. "It looks like...
jewellery. And it... does weird stuff."
Kobal snorts. "And we got it off a Servitor of Wind way back."
Daimon says "My Lord, can you quantify 'weird stuff'?"
Kobal checks the entry again.
Kobal says "Says... um. Someone bled on this bit. And this bit got torn out. And this bit... hm, I
don't know about this bit. But this word says "Thunder"."
Daimon frowns for a second, and then laughs.
Kobal smirks faintly at Daimon.
Daimon says "You would think so, sure."
Kobal says "You'll handle it."
Daimon says "Yes, My Lord. I will handle it."
Kobal smirks. "I love the future predictive tense. Head up from one of the drop-points in here,
that'll keep the Game from catching on."
Daimon says "Yes, My Lord. Any instructions for dealing with the Game, should they show up?
Cream pies? Itching powder?"
Kobal says "Use your discretion. Hell..."
Daimon nods.
Kobal gets up, dropping the book. He poses. "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women
merely players. Sell them popcorn. Put explosives in it. Have _Fun_!"
Kobal says "And don't get caught."
Daimon says "Yes, my Lord. That goes without question."
Daimon 's eyes glow with something nearing worship.
Kobal rubs his hands together.
Kobal says "It's showtime, Daimon."
Kobal says "Get out there and slay them."
Daimon grins. "Yes my Lord. I certainly will.
Kobal droops back into his chair.
Kobal says "I've got three chainsaw artistes to audition in five minutes."
Kobal says "See you later."
Daimon says "Yes my Lord. Have a good day."
Kobal smiles.
Daimon bows his head, and makes his way out of the auditorium.
Kobal stays sitting in the chair, brooding.
Daimon takes off, to go take the tether to the Fun World of the Upstairs.
He's passed through quickly and unobtrusively, till at last he walks out of a back-street court
where mimes perform, and stands in the streets of Washington DC.
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