Bi-Weekly

Nation Building

Issue # 3 – What's the Game?

By: Robert Rock
Note: This storyline is set prior to "Tempus Fugit" in Pendragons

The night outside was muggy and overcast. No moon or stars showed overhead.

Dust exited an alleyway and began to descend a half flight of steps to a bar that looked as if it hadn’t been open in over a decade.

As he grasped the handle, the concealment spell dissipated briefly and the sights and sounds of a very active bar washed over him.

The population of the bar is an assortment of mythical creatures.  Some lounge on stoles at the bar drinking their sorrows away.  A few demons played pool at a battered table and yell happily at one another.

The being Dust was here to see sat at the back of the bar in a booth.  His position allowed him to keep an eye on all those in the bar as well as anyone who entered.

He stared a hole into Dust as he made his way back to him.  His appearance was that of the traditional idea of a devil.  His skin was bright red and he had large horns protruding from the sides of his head.  His ears and face sported a multitude of piercing and tattoos.

“Thanks for taking the time to see me Altar.  I know what a busy schedule you have, with this petty fiefdom and all.” Dust said as he sat in the booth.

“You know nothing, little mage.  I am one of the future leaders of my kind.” Altar answers.  His voice had the timber of gravel and was more than a little disconcerting to listen to.

“You don’t look like shit to me.” Dust adds with some bravado.

“Don’t push your get out of death card to far boy.  I have only chosen to see you to stifle your departments’ curious nature.  You and your departments’ prodding are not what we need right now.” Altar said in a measured tone

“Well that’s just it Altar, why now?  What purpose does destroying the status quo serve?” Dust presses.

“That, mage, is on a need to know basis and none of you wretched humans in F.66 need to know.” Altar answers getting progressively agitated.

Dust was tired.  He had to talk with so many pieces of shit to get this meeting and it was going nowhere.  If he didn’t have something Eccles would roast his balls. “Don’t stonewall me you puffed up prick…

At this outburst Altar slammed his fist through the table, shattering it to pieces.  His eyes pleaded for Dust to continue, to give him a reason to kill him.  The anger has changed his appearance as well, fangs are peaking out over his crimson lips, and energy bled out of the corner of his eyes.

“I will say this once and once only mage, on matters of Mortigen’s announcement and work, he has revoked my none human interference rule.  If you pursue this line of inquiry with me or others or if you interfere with the process, I have been given leave by Mortigen himself to punch your or anyone else’s ticket.”

Dust pressed back into his seat.  The aura of pure hatred that poured off Altar ignited a flame of fear in him.  He had died at the hands of a demon once and had no interest in re-enacting the experience.

“Understood Altar, but know that the department is not without its resources.”

At this, Dust stood and stepped carefully through the remains of the table.  He brushed himself down and walked to the door. As he left the bar Altar had stood to watch him leave.  All eyes in the bar were on Dust’s back as he grabbed the door handle.  Dust has been mumbling under his breath the whole way, and as he opened the door to leave, the last words he spoke were barely audible, “rend asunder.”

As the door swung closed, Dust heard an unearthly cry pierce the quiet night. 

“MAGE, you will pay for this affront.”  Altar roared.

The leather suit that had up to a few seconds ago been covering Altar lay in shreds at his hooves.

“What are you all looking at?  All of you go back to what ever pathetic dreams you were dreaming.”

The crowd turned away from Altar and begin to resume their activities.

Altar reached down into the remains of his clothing and retrieved an odd-looking cell phone.  He began to initiate a call using magic to connect where technology had failed under the barrier. 

Before it connects, Altar orders two servers to the back with the movement of his hand.  He begins toward the back himself as the call connects.

“Lord, as you have foreseen, they have begun asking questions.  What will you have me do?”

Mortigen walked through the halls of a gleaming office tower.  His was dressed impeccably in a black suit and red tie.  He had his cell phone to his ear.

“Nothing at the moment Altar.  I have better ways to deal with the inquisitive parties then to have you slaughter them.  If you hear from or about anyone again contact me immediately.  Also, ensure that you are present for the meeting on Thursday evening.  It is of the utmost importance.”

Chief Inspector Eccles sat in the White Horse pub on Parsons Green in Fulham.  He was well through his pint when the door swung open.  Constance Johanssen entered the pub with a haze of blue smoke surrounding her.

“Right, what do you want now Eccles.” Constance greets her boss.

“Just the usual Constance, for you to do your job and hopefully get killed in the process.” Eccles response before he took another sip from his pint. 

Constance snorted at his reply and sat next to him at the bar.  She motioned to the barkeep for pour her a pint and waited.  Eccles slide a file sideways on the bar to Constance and resumed enjoying his drink.  Constance flipped open the file and began to read as she light another cigarette from the stub of the one she was just finishing.  Between flipping the pages, drinking her pint and keeping a fag constantly lit, she made small noises of alarm and anger.

When she was done with the file she flip it closed and turned to Eccles, “So what do you want me to do?”

Eccles just smiled.

Next Issue: Mortigen gets things moving and Romany’s brought in