Guild Logs Take 1

[HYWASaint@aol.com]

With the recent news concerning Arrakis and the rumours thereof, as one of 
your beneficient admins I thought it prudent to send out a few logs 
containing RP had by Sessil, Chief of Staff for the Spacing Guild's enclave 
on Kaitain, an individual whom some of you may have the (dis)pleasure of 
meeting in the near future.  You'd be aware of some of his predelictions, so 
I am sending out a few Golden Oldies to acquaint you all with a very 
colourful fellow who will be involved in the Arrakis TP recently hatched.  
Have fun, and there's another one coming presently.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

--

[Tillip and Sessil meet with a Rastanyev Suk and a Harkonnen Siridar]

*Log taken from Sessil’s point of view*

_____________________________________________________________

You walk through the Sliding Glass Doors.

Lobby -- Guild Bank (Kaitain)
The lobby of the Guild Bank is the picture of organized activity. Guild
representatives sit at their desks working busily either with clients or with
paperwork.

This room is a vast expanse whose walls climb upward toward a ceiling well
over 50 meters from the floor. All things here are varying shades of grey,
even the dress of the employees. The holoscreens provide the only color for
this place.

Players:
 Daisku                                             Tillip
Exits:
 Sliding Glass Doors  leads to Central Plaza -- Financial District (Kaitain)

Tillip sits back down at his desk, and says casually, "Ohayo Gozaimasu. It is
morning now, is it not?" He crosses his legs and folds his arms under his
device, wheezing all the while.

Sessil walks into the bank, humming some nameless tune to himself.

Daisku smiles, "I'm afraid you've mistaken me for a speaker of Kanji. I'm too
much of a mixed breed in actuality as I have no knowledge of Kanji."

Tillip leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers, "Rarely do I ever make
mistakes ... Doctor." He wheezes a while, struggling with his every breath. He
continues after some difficulty, "Why have you come to see me?"

Sessil walks over towards the Legate, who is conversing with the Rastanyev
Suk. "Ah . . . diddy doo . . . good evening, Legate and . . . boobop shadoo .
. .Master Yoshishishishishi is it?"

Daisku just looked at you.

Tillip looks briefly at Sessil and signals to a spot right next to his chair.
he then turns back to Daisku.

Sessil walks around the Legate's desk and stands behind him. "Bopbiddly
bobobobobo . . . I trust things are well in Howse
Rastanyayayayayayayayayayaev?"

Daisku looks over at the man who just entered and nods towards him, "I'm not
sure how much information Regent Ivanova has sent you on a certain medicine.
But I've come to show you the readings and explain how the studies have gone
for the medicine."

Tillip nods slightly and asks quietly, "I assume this is the 'medicine' from
Ecaz?" he takes a particularily ragged inhale, and then slaps a green button
on his device which causes him to breath with ease.

Daisku nods towards Sessil, "House Rastanyev does as well as ever Guildsman"

Tillip interjects, "Sessil, here, is my Chief of Staff, Doctor." He then
returns to quiet.

Daisku nods back towards Tillip and runs his fingers along his chin in a v-
shape, "They are at that with our preliminary medical reports and predicted
outcomes."

Tillip takes a deep easy breath, and blinks. idly he says, "Show them to
Sessil."

Daisku lifts up the briefcase, "May I use the edge of your desk a moment
Legate?" Daisku says as he unlocks the chain holding the briefcase secure to
his wrist.

Tillip makes a casual wave with his right hand, sighing heavily. Its the same
wave a man might you to shoo away some pesky insect. he folds his hands in his
lap and stares at the ceiling.

Daisku opens up the briefcase as he leans it against the desk and presses his
thumbs to both the locks before they snap open. Inside the case is actually a
portable tape reader and projector on top of several documents. Daisku pulls
out the tape projector and places it on the desk and hands several papers over
to Sessil, "Chief Sessil the papers are back up statistics on the drug and
it's effects on the 57 obsererved cases who have gone through 5 or more
dosings"

Sessil finishes his little song as he takes the papers, scanning over them on
average of a page every half second, smiling slightly. "I have heard rumours
that the Lady Ivanova is herself addicted to this foul concoction of yours.
Any truth to these whisperings, Suk? With your pyrotechnic oath you should
know and be prepared to do whatever is neccessary for her safety."

Daisku flips open a panel on the recorder and waits for it to hum a bit before
turning his attention back towards Tillip and Sessil, "The bottom grey folder
is a markup of the profit potential of this drug. I believe it's being called
Semuta?"

Tillip leans forward and rests his elbows on the desk. He avidly regards the
profit margins and forecasts.

Sessil chuckles slightly. "Semuta . . ." he tests the word, "Yes, that's what
I heard it called."

Daisku narrows his eyes a bit at Sessil, "Lady Ivanova is a full supporter of
the drug and I haven't seen negative effects on it as yet on the human body
and physiology"

Sessil shrugs as though not even caring, "So you say, so you say. A typical
response from a typical Rastanyev."

Tillip speaks, "Nevertheless, its use shall be banned by Guildsmen." he turns
slowly to look at Sessil, "Clear?"

Daisku notices the interest of the Legate, "You'll see the initial startup
cost for processing is rather high as the drug has resisted attempts to be
made in a more dilute form. As the first batch is created however the price on
creation drops incredibly as the residues from the first batch activate the
processing of the second batch and all further batches"

Sessil nods to the Legate. "Of course, Sir. I would never touch the filthy
stuff as it is. This substance is almost assuredly flawed." he says, the last
word spoken as he looks directly at Daisku.

Tillip looks at Daisku then and says, "And we have grave ... moral
difficulties with something that is ..." He pauses to take a loud ragged
inhalation. Then he pronounces the next word deep and ull, "flawed. I need you
to inform your superiors, Doctor, that my superiors will require compensation
if they are not to voice their .... moral objections."

Daisku shakes his head slowly, "The substance as it has been studied appears
to be addictive but not in large amounts. Patients who use the drug do have
minor withdrawl symptoms but in general not an overwhelming drive to consume
more as far as other drugs of this type. Semuta is actually quite remarkable
and it's effects fade rather rapidly. It's much better then say Caff-ine.

Tillip turns to Sessil with a bewlidered look, "Perhaps he did not hear me,
Chief." His eyes narrow, "Inform him." he lsowly looks back to study the
Doctor.

Daisku nods towards Tillip, "I understand Legate I'm sure things can be
arranged"

Tillip asks, "Is there anything else, Doctor?" He blinks, "Oh before you ...
depart, leave us your reports. We wish to ... study them."

Sessil grins malevolently at the beleaguered Suk. "No doubt we will find even
more flaws."

Daisku nods, "Of course. On the projector is video of the patients while in
the trance. As well as a sound component that we have found increases the
drug. Currently it's very electronic I belive Master Varona is helping with
that". Daisku bows towards Tillip and Sessil, "I'll relay your message to Lady
Ivanova"

Sessil mutters, "If she's not blasted out of coherence."

Tillip takes a deep breath and goes back to his work, which was interrupted.
He makes some notations in some margins and ignores all else.

Daisku turns around and strides out of the guild bank taking an empty
briefcase. On the side of the projector is a test tube filled with a blueish
liquid, "Test Drug 43475" labeled on it"

Daisku walks to the south and passes through the Sliding Glass Doors.

Daisku has left.

Sessil turns to the Legate. "The Rastanyev will drown in their precious
semuta."

Tillip says as if speaking to the work on his desk, "Write Baron harkonne a
-polite- letter summoning him immediately to my pressence. if he wishes to
bring Nestor we would not be adverse. And remind him to leave his guards
outside. This -is neutral ground, after all." He mnakes another notation, and
picks up another paper. he compares the one to the other, and then sets the
paper down.

Sessil nods and walks to another desk, setting down to furiously scrawl out a
message.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
His Magnificence, Legate Tillip, demands you attend him immediately at the
Guild Bank. Leave your guards outside, as it is neutral ground. You may see
fit to commit your trechery against the Moritani, but do not think to try it
with the Guild.

Master Sessil Mordane
Chief of Staff to the Legate
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Boris walks in from Central Plaza through the Sliding Glass Doors.

Boris has arrived.

Boris bustles into the room, looking about. "Ah, Legate, good to see you, eh?"
He has a GuildMail vellum in one huge fist as he approaches.

Sessil stands at a desk about halfway back through the foyer, his attentions
upon a sheaf of documents he holds in one hand, quickly perusing them, the
sheets becoming a blur as he flips them furiously.

Sessil frowns as the Baron enters, and moves towards him. "Ah, it is the ever-
rotund Harkonnen. Welcome to our parlor, Boboboboboboboris."

Boris looks at Sessil with a frown, his hands balling into fists. "You'll not
speak to me in such fashion, you bloodless pup." he says in a quiet rumble.
"Not a word of it. I'll give you a chance to apologize."

Sessil chuckles slightly and shakes his head. "I shall speak to you as you
are, Baron. Now stop acting like a mule and more like a man. The Legate awaits
you."

Boris just looked at you.

Besides Sessil and the Baron there are very few people present in this
darkened room. Glowglobes hover over the few occupied desks. The Legates sist
at one such desk.

Boris steps forward towards Sessil. "If you were a proper human being, I'd
call you out for such talk. As it is, I am tempted to snap your little neck
with my bare hands and throw your body to my klevek.." His face has begun to
color, his expression one of barely concealed rage at the man's impertinence

Two blackclothed Guild agents approach the conversing pair. One is a woman the
other a man. They speak in unison saying, "Why has the Legate been kept
waiting?"

Sessil turns to the pair and reply, "Because Baron Bore here was likely out
boffing all of his little illegitimate sons."

Boris gives a howl of rage and reaches for the old man with his big fists.

Sessil says in a mocking tone, "So many choices, sooo little time, eh Baron?"

The pair intones, "The Legate awaits the Baron presently, and will not be
pleased with further delays."

Boris steps forward, raising his hands, then stops himself. He drops his hands
to his sides, looking at Sessil with a raised brow, his voice a growl. "No.
This is some Guild trick." He turns to the two men, smoothing his jacket,
forcing his composure. "Tell your Legate the Baron will be along in his own
time." After a moment, he moves to follow them.

Sessil moves to walk behind Boris. "Time is short, Baron. And yours even
shorter if you aren't careful."

The Pair crowd the Baron. The man mentions to the woman, "I hear that the
heighliners have asked to boycott Geidi Prime."The woman looks at the Baron,
"I'm sure you must be mistaken. They only boycott Great Houses who are rude
enough to keep Legates waiting."

Sessil says loudly over the Siridar Harkonnen's shoulder, "No, actually they
just castrate those who keep them waiting. Though in this case I think it
might be an improvement."

Boris doesn't dignify Sessil with an answer.

Tillip diligently pours over his ledgers, at his desk, as if noone was around.
The light of the glowglobe illuminates his whole desk, which has no chairs in
front of it (though there are chairs at other nearby desks).

Boris says quietly, "Very well, Legate, I'm here, eh?" He stands before the
desk unruffled by circumstance.

Sessil surprisingly speaks up instead of waiting for the Legate, "Baron
Harkonnen, the Guild wishes to note its extreme displeasure at the wanton
disregard of protocol and conduct your insolent Mentat showed last evening
after the CHOAM Board of Directors meeting."

Tillip takes his stylus and write s afigure in the debit column of a legder.
he then reaches for another ledger, making the same notation in the credit
column of that ledger.

Boris purses his lips. He begins, "Ah, of course, Mentats, a most unreliable
breed, eh? Who can say why they do what they do?"

Tillip pulls over a balance sheet and enters a figure into the assests area.

Sessil sighs, unimpressed. "The Spacing Guild understands, but a Great House,
a truly /great/ House, would reprimand so insolent a servant, though for you
Harkonnen insolence is part of the job description, isn't it?"

Boris smiles, chuckling. "He'll be disciplined, of course. I assure you, it
will be most severe."

Tillip sets the balance sheet aside and pulls a newspaper, written in Guilese,
and opens it. Its a paper akin to the Guild Street News, perhaps.

Sessil shakes his head, "No, Baron. You best submit solid proof that this
punishment was carried out, and a written apology from your vagrant mentat."

Boris says, "We cannot tolerate such affronts to the mighty power of the
Guild, can we? Not for a moment. This Nestor has always been trouble...As a
matter of fact, I've been considering replacing him."

Tillip pulls out a special glossy magazine devoted to Tillip Soreen, Guild
Superstar.

Sessil brings up an index finger. "Now that would be suitable punishment. Have
it done by first light, Baron. And not only that, but have him publically
disgraced as well. The Guild would prefer that he never find work again."

Tillip opens to the cover article.

Boris nods. "Let's not be so hasty, eh? He represents a considerable
investment for my House, eh? In the fullness of time, when we locate a
suitable replacement..." He rubs his hands. "No, I think a good old-fashioned
beating is best, eh?"

Sessil frowns deeply. "Do you even know why we want your Mentat punished,
Baron Bobo?"

Boris sighs, "For his affront to protocol? Yes, yes...And I'll be happy to
express my displeasure to him, on your behalf. I can't tolerate rudeness at
all.." He smiles.

Sessil gives a slight growling sound from the back of his throat, "Siridar
Bimbo, do you even know how he affronted protocol? And if we're speaking of
rudeness, you are surely one to talk. The Guild is of the opinion that your
staff often reflects who the master is. Rudeness and lack of proper conduct
from a Mentat can only naturally be inferred to be a direct result of rudeness
and lack of proper conduct from his Lord."

Tillip flips to the opinions section, and traces his fingers along each line
of text as he reads.

Boris laughs richly. He says to Tillip, "Your mechanical man here has the most
outlandish notions! I'm Siridar of Giedi Prime, sir, not some Rastanyev
turnip-twaddler! Why, the records will show I have been ever the most
respectful and courteous of the Guild."

Tillip turns the page and reads the article with the same scrutiny as before.

Tillip intones, "Please, have a safe trip home, Baron. We anticpate your next
visit ..." he takes a deep ragged breath and slowly look up at the portly
penitent, "with interest." he looks back again to his article.

Sessil snorts impiously. "So you claim. Tell me, Boririririririris, why do you
think House Harkonnen deserves a contract so mighty and affluent as Arrakis?
Surely you have wealth enough to satisfy even your lusts."

Boris considers this. He produces a cigar from his vest, and a lighter in the
shape of a human hand, and puffs the cigar into life. He lets the dense thick
cloud of tobacco fill the air about him, as well as the respirators of any
mechanically-augmented humans nearby. "There's untapped wealth on Arrakis, eh?
The people, to hear it told, are lazy, desert scum, fit now for little more
than skulking about." He puffs on the cigar. "Such a populace craves--calls
out for-- the strong hand of a Harkonnen for order, for direction, and
purpose. I find such a population respond well, in time, to inkvines and our
other coercements, eh?"

Tillip stands up to his full height, leaning forward on both palms, which are
places flat on the desk top. He stares hard at the Baron, "I am sure, you're a
very -busy- man, and I wouldn't ... want ... to ... keep you, Baron." He
doesn't make another move, not even to blink.

Sessil nods to the Legate and then turns back to Boris. "Yes, the Guild has no
further need of your prodigious presence. You're scaring away the tax-paying
peoples of Kaitain."

Boris shrugs with a laugh, then grinds out his cigar into the polished top of
Tillip's desk, tossing it carelessly over his shoulder. "Of course, of
course," he says, chuckling. He sketches a bow more gracefully than his bulk
might suggest him capable of. "We'll speak soon, eh?" He turns to leave.

Boris walks to the south and passes through the Sliding Glass Doors.

Boris has left.


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