Welcome to Gaia! ::

((Nara was mentioned in the planning, and whoever else you think should be in the RP works for me! (: I wasn't sure quite about the title formatting, feel free to change it.

Sorry for the long starter, I'm still introducing Percival. And the language, that's totally Autry. ^^; Tell me if you need/want anything changed.))

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Percival tracked the path of the rat scroll from Reginald the mage who found it, from that mage to the place on Gaia the mage found it, and when he ran into the shady wall of the underworld (apparently the scroll had taken a very rodentile path in reaching Teqatia) Percival stopped and decided he needed someone with a little more experience in handling these affairs. Being a firmly rules and regulations type of person, he went to Security, which was now calling itself the P.D.F., and asked them. They sent him to the desk of a very disgruntled and impatient young man named Edward Autry, who listened to Percival blather on for several minutes about the situation and everyone it involved before cutting him off.

"Look," said Autry, wondering which of the Three he had pissed off to get stuck handling this pompous p***k, "you just need the place she found the rat kid, yeah?"

Percival frowned, dismayed by the imprecision of that conclusion. What he needed was something invariably more complex than this drudge was capable of understanding, a specific set of information pertaining to the trail he was following. "Yes, but--"

"Then you need," stressed Autry as if he were talking to an imbecile, "to go to right Gaian coordinates."

Percival's thin shoulders shook with fury. "Which I am trying to obtain through the process of tracking this scroll to its origins!" Autry's face contorted with furious agony and he began to rummage through his desk while Percival continued, "The owner of the store claims he got the scroll from this Sweet fellow, and if we go find him--"

Autry found a pen and a paper scrap in his desk and scribbled down some coordinates. He thrust the note at Percival. "Go here!" he ordered, annoying Percival all the more with his plain lack of manners.

"What do you mean, 'go here!' You haven't yet helped me locate the Sweet fellow! If you are not capable of completing the task then direct me to someone who is--"

With a furious groan Autry leapt up from his chair and pulled at his hair. He had more important things to do than mess with this moron. He slammed his fist on the table and was pleased when Percival jumped in response. Autry shouted, "I am telling you where to go! You want the origins of the rat kid! On November 12th, 2006, local Gaian time, Teqatia Endruis and Landor Niela exited the Bridge to Gaia and when they returned later that day, the arrival of Sebastian Endruis was logged and entered into the residential database by the supervising magistrix! The coordinates! They went to! Are right here!" Autry slammed his palm down next to the scrap of paper on his desk. "I did not spend two ******** years working in I.S. and not learn how to put two and two together! Now take your coordinates and go! Or do you need me to ******** tell you how to read a ******** set of coordinates you freaking little--"

Consumed by both rage and what little professionalism he possessed, Edward Autry stopped there, breathing heavily, a wild look in his eyes, leaning his white-knuckled fists on the desk. In his previous life, he would have shot a person like Percival Prowley just for existing. Percival made a sound much like a squeak and retrieved the piece of paper from the table. Once he had the information safely in hand he was braver.

"I've half a mind to report you to your supervisor!" he yelled back, though inside he was still shaking.

"Do it!" growled Autry. "After you get out!"

With a sniff, Percival turned up his nose, spun on his heel and stalked out. He gave the door a little slam to punctuate his displeasure. It was so small a slam it did not cause anything to rattle. Only then did Autry give a heaving sigh of exasperation and settle back into his seat. Man, some people! He picked up his copy of the Times and resumed the crossword puzzle. Six-letter word for sonnet section. "Ses-tet," he said as he wrote it in, smiling to himself, smug in his perceived superiority, oblivious to the irony.

Outside the office, Percival stared at his hard-won gains. A list of coordinates with some times alongside, hours of the day and durations. An arrow seemed to indicate a suggested order for visiting. The coordinates were written in a messy hand that said a lot about the quality of the source in Percival's mind. Good penmanship was a sign of intelligence and station. That man, he was quite convinced, had been born and raised on a hog farm. (He seemed to be conveniently forgetting his own origins as the son of a maid and a street cleaner.) Percival wondered if he should seek out a security officer for accompaniment, but seeing as how Autry was their "Gaian specialist," Percival decided to just try his luck. In his experience, two people were more dangerous than one. At least alone he could turn back.

He headed to Gaia and took out his compass, carefully setting the coordinates. They were point-of-origin, the standard for single point and "enemy territory" dimensions. He was not sure which one Gaia classified as. It seemed nice enough, and it was a bright and sunny day. After a moment he had the coordinates set and could work out a heading to follow.

The first set of coordinates turned out to be a little dark alleyway and Percival wondered what Teqatia had been doing there for nearly ten minutes. He could find no clues of any kind, just a little furrow in the dirt left by rainwater falling from the overhanging roof over the course of several months. He left the alley and proceeded to the next set of coordinates. (As much as he held no love for Edward Autry, the security officer had given him very good information.)

Which was how he found himself standing in front of the same building that Teqatia and Landor had visited some months before. Without knowing what he was getting himself into, he prepared to make a good impression. Teqatia needed him to try, and that was enough. He went through the door. "Pardon me . . ."

Pleased at the reception, Percival smiled as he approached Nara. This was how people behind desks should behave, receptive to the needs of their visitors, much the same as a well-trained butler. The antenna were a bit wrong for the picture in Percival's mind, but no odder than any of the people he had seen outside on the street.

He took care to choose his words and spoke in a voice that was crisp, clear, and almost overbearingly pleasant. "My name is Percival Prowley, of the Council of Mages. I'm seeking information on the nature and history of a certain scroll. I was told I might find such information here?"

That sounded officious enough in his opinion. It was a bit of a stretch, but he was a member of the Council, there was no lie in that. If Nara mistook it to mean he was one of the mages, well, what was the harm?

"The kind of scroll I'm talking about," said Percival cautiously, wondering about her seeming hesitation (perhaps he had the wrong place), "has a propensity to turn into a person." He waited there for her to offer some kind of a positive response that would indicate he had tracked the rat scroll to its origins. He sort of hoped he had not, because that would give him an excuse to go back to that dreadful Ed Autry and gloat at how Autry should have done things the way Pericval wanted instead of making giant leaps to conclusions. Doubtless such leaps were why Autry no longer worked at Investigative Services. (That, and the organization had been disbanded several months ago.)

Percival was about to give up on waiting when Nara returned. He almost wished he had. His mouth fell open as his eyes travelled up, up the towering form of the black-clad man. Percival let out a most unseemly "Guh!" in exclamation. Edward Autry was bad, truly awful, but for a fleeting moment Percival wished he had brought Autry along. Better yet, Reginald, whose vast skills of magery could protect the two of them. Anyone. Even James! Rare was the day when Percival wished for his former master's company, given that said company had gotten him shot once before and usually led to all sorts of trouble on other occasions.

His desire to adhere to decorum compelled him to speak. "How--" he started, so weak and meekly so it was barely audible even to himself. The mere effort of trying to be polite strengthened and emboldened him. For Percival, as long as it was possible to have good manners, everything would be all right. "How do you do!" he managed, sticking his hand out at the frightening fellow.

If his attempt at diplomacy failed, he felt sure he was doomed.

Glancing between the two of them, Percival took a deep breath and wrung his hands together. "It's not a matter of any great importance, it's just, you see, my associates and I have come across such a scroll and are desirous of more information on it, such as if they are very common, where originally they came from, who is researching them, why they do what it is they do, if they were created for any sort of purpose or reason, if there are many more of them..." He realized he was rattling on like an untended tea kettle and stopped himself, finishing, "We're not from Gaia, you see, so really, if there is any information you have it would be a great help to our starting to understand this scroll and, uh, the person that comes out from it." Under two hundred words, at any rate.

Not wanting to mention Teqatia's involvement when she had made it so clear she wanted nothing to do with these people, Percival balked at the notion. "It may be impertinent of me, but how am I to know that you are in fact in possession of information that may be of help to the Council? Or that I, uh, should place my trust in your and your organization?"

It was a classic "show me yours I'll show you mine" gambit. It was effective in those gangster movies James was so fond of, usually. Some of the time the gangster asking ended up dead. On second thought, maybe he should have picked a more tried and true tactic, like flashing official credentials. If his ploy failed and he lived to tell the tale, he just might try the credentials next.

Percival wasn't usually known for his bravery. In fact, given the choice, he would rather cower in the back of the carriage than walk the streets at might, and in his mind that instinct had been proven right more often than not. He never confronted bullies, he never tried to do things dangerously, and left to his own devices would probably sit in his house and sip tea with Peginald.

But the one thing he could never do was deny his friends, so when James asked him to leave the carriage and go walking into the night, he went. When Reginald asked him to serve as Deputy Directory and then Council Secretary, he did it. When Teqatia said "Get me information" he intended on bringing her exactly that.

"Now see here!" he exclaimed in his thin, reedy voice, the one that drove most people up the wall with scoldings, "if you need some official documentation, the Council is fully accredited by Her Majesty the Queen." He dug in his pocket and produced an ugly brown handkerchief folded into a square. Emblazoned on it were the lion and the unicorn of the Royal Coat of Arms, encircled by an ouroboros intertwined with a banner reading in Latin "All Worlds United in Magic." Reginald's handkerchief, which on the worlds he came from would indeed serve as a passgate when held in the proper hands. In Percy's hands and on this world, it might by taken for merely an ugly handkerchief.

Presenting it like the authorization of God himself, Percival said, "I've come a good long way and I won't be making the trip again so you may as well give me the information I'm looking for, because I'm not leaving until you do, and if you won't help me, I'll go find someone else who can. Since I know for a fact you do not possess all of the scrolls in question I am sure there must be other organizations doing research. I'll simply find one of them to help me!"

"This is a Royal Library, I'm a citizen of the British Empire, I have rights!" argued Percival, not perceiving the distinction when everything "royal" in his world pertained to the British Royal family. "And I am a member of the Council, this official insignia confirms that, as it is only presented to those mages in the service of Her Majesty the Queen." His heart rate was increasing, triggering markers put there for his own protection to which he was oblivious.

Something occurred to Percival. "I can prove I'm with the Council. What I cannot understand is why I should believe anything you say without your offering me some sort of proof in return. If all you have are vague threats and thugs then I don't think you're the sort of people we want to be dealing with anyway, so we'll take the scrolls we have elsewhere." Ah, logic, comfort of atheist angels.