Marcella
Marc seemed zoned out as her mind roamed the constellations of human psyches, each dot of light a person and a summary of decades of living and experience. Out of the thousands her mental fingertips ran over, it was one in particular that she was interested in, one that was huddled among the 3 to 4 within the vicinity of Drimmles compound...the man himself.
'Ser Drimmle...' Marcs gentle, soft voice would emanate into the mans mind as she telepathically communicated with him - a presence within his skull audible to him and him alone.
'Ser Drimmle...you disappoint us...open the security door and let us in...cooperate...the Inquisition knows your name...the Inquisition knows your crimes...you only delay the inevitable...there is nowhere in this solar system where you can hide from us...no security that we cannot penetrate...there is no salvation from us...there is only salvation through us...'
"He's on the first floor, with only two to three guards with him now...but there could be servitors..." Marcella announced to the group, her eyes glazed over as she stared forward, her voice monotonous.