Post by Manson Doktore on Jan 29, 2015 9:31:48 GMT -5
Drugs.
Priests.
What did they have in common?
Manson didn't really give two hoots. This was his first assignment since the incident and he needed to keep it all together, or else he'd find an axe at his neck faster than he could say "Dragon". It was irking that he needed to have others with him, but if that's the way it was he simply had to deal with it. Not every situation would be optimal, so he needed to make optimal use of them. At least Xanthe was there, but at the same time he had never seen her outside of their little routine check up. For all he knew she was a monster in battle who would make dumb mistakes and get them both exposed. Hopefully she was at least the cover he needed. She could probably do that much. He made sure to tell her something, not really to chastise her, but more of a 'just so we're clear' before he began the assignment.
"Alright, you can come. However we have to keep our story straight. I have met you once, our check up three days ago. You're a patient of mine, you came to me to for help alleviating certain symptoms you may have of Phantom Hand syndrome because every Mage you went to told you that magic can't fix your head. I happened to mention the job when you asked about why I was unavailable for an appointment, and then you offered to come along as payment. Act like the appointment wasn't anything special. No one must know we are close. No one must think we have any relationship beyond doctor and patient. If anyone links us to the Cult, you tell me immediately. However, if they're about to tell anyone else... kill them. Don't be honorable about it. Slit their throat and leave them to choke on their own blood. I'll handle the rest."
It seemed like an undue amount of paranoia, but to Manson this was his own life on the line. He would not have his job ruined because of someone being mouthy. He would not risk his work being completely ignored, and his published papers being forever stained because of his circumstance. He was simply too important to the advancement of this world to go out this way. He sure seemed to have that air about him as he sat on a bench outside the Temple of Dragoon. That stuffy, uppity, "No seriously, you're small beans" attitude in the way he sat with his back straight and properly organized the briefcase on his lap. It didn't really come from haughtiness either, he seemed earnestly assured of the fact. There were several stacks of paper in the briefcase but what was more eye-catching was the sections on both sides that held a myriad of small, thin vials of a rainbow of colors, along with syringes, wipes, and other miscellaneous medical equipment. To anyone that had seen Manson do this work before, this was the dreaded "Box of Truth" as most commoners called it. They always told about how the weird Doctor man would take a bit of your blood and then do weird things with the liquids. After he was done he could tell what drugs you were on, what you had eaten, sometimes he could even diagnose diseases using them. The drug testing part was the most common use though, and it was to be put in use today once again. Lately reports had come from several citizens that members of the Priesthood had been spotted in known drug dens. Worse was that there were definite reports of a Priest of Dragoon selling an unknown type of stimulant. The idea today was to see who in the Priesthood was clean, and thus remove any suspicion from the Temple itself so that the Citizens would believe that it was simply an imposter. Even the High Priest himself was going to attend as part of Manson's delegation, though he wondered why he decided to take such a proactive role. Manson didn't know too much about the Priesthood, he didn't really care, but he wondered why a religion that paradoxically both deified Dragoon but was against the deification of heroes in general would want with him. Perhaps favors, or perhaps he wanted to do it as a show of support. The doctor couldn't really care less, as long as the High Priest wasn't there to stab him in the back.
He had been there for about an hour, only rummaging around and reorganizing his briefcase before he noticed some people walking towards him. These must have been his colleagues in the matter. The very image of stuffiness, Manson packed up his briefcase and adjusted his glasses once before standing up and letting them come into view. He took note of each person by turning his head and nodding, before asking a general question to them all before this show got on the road.
"Greetings and Salutations. Now that we are all assembled I believe it is time we begin the assignment handed to us. If you could introduce yourself and explain anything important we need to know, please do so. I will begin. I am Manson Doktore, Commissioner of Public Health for the High Council. My job is to assure that our citizens adhere to the proper standards of health and safety, and I am a previous Graduate of Faustus Academy with approximately seven years experience. Are there any questions?"
He sounded a bit like a grade school teacher.
Priests.
What did they have in common?
Manson didn't really give two hoots. This was his first assignment since the incident and he needed to keep it all together, or else he'd find an axe at his neck faster than he could say "Dragon". It was irking that he needed to have others with him, but if that's the way it was he simply had to deal with it. Not every situation would be optimal, so he needed to make optimal use of them. At least Xanthe was there, but at the same time he had never seen her outside of their little routine check up. For all he knew she was a monster in battle who would make dumb mistakes and get them both exposed. Hopefully she was at least the cover he needed. She could probably do that much. He made sure to tell her something, not really to chastise her, but more of a 'just so we're clear' before he began the assignment.
"Alright, you can come. However we have to keep our story straight. I have met you once, our check up three days ago. You're a patient of mine, you came to me to for help alleviating certain symptoms you may have of Phantom Hand syndrome because every Mage you went to told you that magic can't fix your head. I happened to mention the job when you asked about why I was unavailable for an appointment, and then you offered to come along as payment. Act like the appointment wasn't anything special. No one must know we are close. No one must think we have any relationship beyond doctor and patient. If anyone links us to the Cult, you tell me immediately. However, if they're about to tell anyone else... kill them. Don't be honorable about it. Slit their throat and leave them to choke on their own blood. I'll handle the rest."
It seemed like an undue amount of paranoia, but to Manson this was his own life on the line. He would not have his job ruined because of someone being mouthy. He would not risk his work being completely ignored, and his published papers being forever stained because of his circumstance. He was simply too important to the advancement of this world to go out this way. He sure seemed to have that air about him as he sat on a bench outside the Temple of Dragoon. That stuffy, uppity, "No seriously, you're small beans" attitude in the way he sat with his back straight and properly organized the briefcase on his lap. It didn't really come from haughtiness either, he seemed earnestly assured of the fact. There were several stacks of paper in the briefcase but what was more eye-catching was the sections on both sides that held a myriad of small, thin vials of a rainbow of colors, along with syringes, wipes, and other miscellaneous medical equipment. To anyone that had seen Manson do this work before, this was the dreaded "Box of Truth" as most commoners called it. They always told about how the weird Doctor man would take a bit of your blood and then do weird things with the liquids. After he was done he could tell what drugs you were on, what you had eaten, sometimes he could even diagnose diseases using them. The drug testing part was the most common use though, and it was to be put in use today once again. Lately reports had come from several citizens that members of the Priesthood had been spotted in known drug dens. Worse was that there were definite reports of a Priest of Dragoon selling an unknown type of stimulant. The idea today was to see who in the Priesthood was clean, and thus remove any suspicion from the Temple itself so that the Citizens would believe that it was simply an imposter. Even the High Priest himself was going to attend as part of Manson's delegation, though he wondered why he decided to take such a proactive role. Manson didn't know too much about the Priesthood, he didn't really care, but he wondered why a religion that paradoxically both deified Dragoon but was against the deification of heroes in general would want with him. Perhaps favors, or perhaps he wanted to do it as a show of support. The doctor couldn't really care less, as long as the High Priest wasn't there to stab him in the back.
He had been there for about an hour, only rummaging around and reorganizing his briefcase before he noticed some people walking towards him. These must have been his colleagues in the matter. The very image of stuffiness, Manson packed up his briefcase and adjusted his glasses once before standing up and letting them come into view. He took note of each person by turning his head and nodding, before asking a general question to them all before this show got on the road.
"Greetings and Salutations. Now that we are all assembled I believe it is time we begin the assignment handed to us. If you could introduce yourself and explain anything important we need to know, please do so. I will begin. I am Manson Doktore, Commissioner of Public Health for the High Council. My job is to assure that our citizens adhere to the proper standards of health and safety, and I am a previous Graduate of Faustus Academy with approximately seven years experience. Are there any questions?"
He sounded a bit like a grade school teacher.
