Vuvi and Penelo burst through the front doors of the Great Mother's church in the Dwarven capital at a dead sprint, boots skidding across polished marble.
An acolyte glides over immediately, hands folded, serene smile in place. "How may I be of assistance?"
"Did three Saint Sisters come in here recently?" Vuvi demands, barely pausing for breath, hands braced on her knees. "Big, beautiful, insanely powerful women, with a golden construct in tow? Probably looking way, way too pleased with themselves?"
The acolyte's eyes widen with sudden recognition. "You must be Vuvela Blackthorn." She bows low. "Creator of the Prince of Pleasure."
"That's me. I need to see him. Right now."
"I'm afraid the Saint Sisters are still convening with him," the acolyte says, apologetic, hands twisting together at her waist. "I'll inform them of your arrival at once. In the meantime, if you could please wait patiently—"
