or pause of unexpected length>
indiv 1: I’m fluent in Latin. I can read sixteenth-century Spanish, even handwriting, as if it were typed text. I am a researcher of uncanny skills. I have commendations, awards, a Ph.D. I’ve written two books on colonial Peru. I find things that other scholars overlook. What is the Archivo Rota Soledad?
indiv 2: I have no notion.
indiv 1: Hold on. What’s your interest in all this?
indiv 2: I already told you. I want what is owed to me. I want my family’s gold.
indiv 1: If you’ve been reading along, Vasco Cuellar never touched the gold, and when Rafael Duran took his share, he left the rest of it in the pyramid.
indiv 2: It’s gone. Historians and archaeologists have been searching for centuries. But that Sopay grows angrier with each disappointing decade. That’s why Quiroga assembled the best researchers and built a new team. That’s why you were chosen.
indiv 1: Quiroga? Who is Quiroga?
indiv 2: Who do you think you’re running from?
indiv 1: I’d say the police.
indiv 2: Perhaps. And who do you think owns the police? Whose harem did you disturb during your daring escape? Who is it you think everyone is afraid of?”
indiv 1: I’m not sure.
indiv 2: Gaspar Quiroga, the Grand Inquisitor; those are his wives. He chose you to find the hoard.
indiv 1: So, an undead Grand Inquisitor has corrupted law enforcement in the process of sponsoring archaeological excavations to find stolen Inca gold. Is that what you’re telling me?
indiv 2: Indeed. He needs the best people in the world working on it. He needs you. Quiroga became something different when he gave himself to that Sopay. And Sopay wants his gold back. It belongs to him. It sustains him.
indiv 1: No, then why did they come for me at the Archive? Why did they lock me up in the Alcazar if I was supposedly working for them?
indiv 2: Because you found something unexpected - not the hoard, but a dangerous book. A book long thought to be legend. But if it exists, Malleus Momias is the only thing left that can harm him.
indiv 1: That day when your granddaughter saw me, that whole thing about me being damned – that was all some gypsy game, right? You were just trying to get me to work with you.
indiv 1: So I’m not damned?
indiv 2: Possibly not, but Sopays are powerful corruptive forces. You’re already too close.
indiv 1: It still doesn’t make sense. Quiroga, or the Sopay, whatever – it wasn’t him who brought me onto the project. It was Michelle.
voice activation mode:
disabled
Negromonte looked down at the table. I heard the first notes of the flamenco music outside as the dancers began practicing their moves.
Michelle, can we talk?
Imp
age:
ageless and timeless
occupation:
guardian of Sopay’s treasure, transformer of souls
education:
n/a
personal:
n/a not human
hometown:
ancient pre-Inca pan-Andean pyramids
hobbies:
n/a
food/bev:
n/a
life goal:
n/a (not alive)
fav movie:
n/a
obscurity:
always carries a sword
June 28, 2011
Segovia, Peru
Leon Samples
Is anybody reading this? If so, can you please send the police, a team of doctors, an exorcist, and an assload of rum? I don’t know how else we’re going to get through this.
We didn’t have power yesterday, so I wasn’t able to get back online until this morning. That’s when I saw Kim’s post. If I knew she was going to go inside the pyramid, I’d have gone after her immediately. But when she didn’t show up for dinner last night, we all figured she went into town. And I wish she had.
I don’t understand all of what’s going on here, but I’m well past the point of doubting the undead mummy thing. So when I read Kim’s post, I knew she was in mortal danger. The color drained from Bolivar’s face when I told him, and he has precious little color to begin with. He strapped on
indiv 1: I’m fluent in Latin. I can read sixteenth-century Spanish, even handwriting, as if it were typed text. I am a researcher of uncanny skills. I have commendations, awards, a Ph.D. I’ve written two books on colonial Peru. I find things that other scholars overlook. What is the Archivo Rota Soledad?
indiv 2: I have no notion.
indiv 1: Hold on. What’s your interest in all this?
indiv 2: I already told you. I want what is owed to me. I want my family’s gold.
indiv 1: If you’ve been reading along, Vasco Cuellar never touched the gold, and when Rafael Duran took his share, he left the rest of it in the pyramid.
indiv 2: It’s gone. Historians and archaeologists have been searching for centuries. But that Sopay grows angrier with each disappointing decade. That’s why Quiroga assembled the best researchers and built a new team. That’s why you were chosen.
indiv 1: Quiroga? Who is Quiroga?
indiv 2: Who do you think you’re running from?
indiv 1: I’d say the police.
indiv 2: Perhaps. And who do you think owns the police? Whose harem did you disturb during your daring escape? Who is it you think everyone is afraid of?”
indiv 1: I’m not sure.
indiv 2: Gaspar Quiroga, the Grand Inquisitor; those are his wives. He chose you to find the hoard.
indiv 1: So, an undead Grand Inquisitor has corrupted law enforcement in the process of sponsoring archaeological excavations to find stolen Inca gold. Is that what you’re telling me?
indiv 2: Indeed. He needs the best people in the world working on it. He needs you. Quiroga became something different when he gave himself to that Sopay. And Sopay wants his gold back. It belongs to him. It sustains him.
indiv 1: No, then why did they come for me at the Archive? Why did they lock me up in the Alcazar if I was supposedly working for them?
indiv 2: Because you found something unexpected - not the hoard, but a dangerous book. A book long thought to be legend. But if it exists, Malleus Momias is the only thing left that can harm him.
indiv 1: That day when your granddaughter saw me, that whole thing about me being damned – that was all some gypsy game, right? You were just trying to get me to work with you.
indiv 1: So I’m not damned?
indiv 2: Possibly not, but Sopays are powerful corruptive forces. You’re already too close.
indiv 1: It still doesn’t make sense. Quiroga, or the Sopay, whatever – it wasn’t him who brought me onto the project. It was Michelle.
voice activation mode:
disabled
Negromonte looked down at the table. I heard the first notes of the flamenco music outside as the dancers began practicing their moves.
Michelle, can we talk?
Imp
age:
ageless and timeless
occupation:
guardian of Sopay’s treasure, transformer of souls
education:
n/a
personal:
n/a not human
hometown:
ancient pre-Inca pan-Andean pyramids
hobbies:
n/a
food/bev:
n/a
life goal:
n/a (not alive)
fav movie:
n/a
obscurity:
always carries a sword
June 28, 2011
Segovia, Peru
Leon Samples
Is anybody reading this? If so, can you please send the police, a team of doctors, an exorcist, and an assload of rum? I don’t know how else we’re going to get through this.
We didn’t have power yesterday, so I wasn’t able to get back online until this morning. That’s when I saw Kim’s post. If I knew she was going to go inside the pyramid, I’d have gone after her immediately. But when she didn’t show up for dinner last night, we all figured she went into town. And I wish she had.
I don’t understand all of what’s going on here, but I’m well past the point of doubting the undead mummy thing. So when I read Kim’s post, I knew she was in mortal danger. The color drained from Bolivar’s face when I told him, and he has precious little color to begin with. He strapped on
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