The summons to the Hall of Speakers had been terse, but your Factol's mark was no forgery. When told to jump, you don't even wait to ask how high.
Upon arrival your are ushered unceremoniously into a secure ante chamber, where a fiend-touched elf awaits, a Signer factor's sigil pinned to his cloak. Without further ado, he speaks:
So listen up and listen well cutters, the Signer Factol's been written into the book, good and proper. The high-ups want the dark yesterday, and that's the golem's truth for you... 'less you want your names written in next to his. By the Sword this is out of the hardhead's hands, and into yours, though sounds more like the chaosmen than the Lady, but who am I to argue?
Congratulations. Should be a cakewalk.
He laughs, entirely unpleasantly, then continues
You can have an hour with the soul bag afore the dusties collect their due, and then, like I said, the dark. Yesterday.
Well? What are you waiting for?