A Rat's Tail (Talon)

[Evana]

74th of Glade, 121 AS
Willowby Street

Shit shit shit--

It was really a beautiful day in Zaichaer. Glade had a way of turning the normal gloom and smog of the city into something somewhat manageable. Through the smell of metal and grease, there was also a faint aroma of blooms wafting from across the Talacara River. It was almost enough to forget that the Grundgeworks even existed. Well, almost.

Evana's nose twitched as she cast a furtive glance over her shoulder where she could see the faint malicious glitter of metal was still following her along the streets below.

They must have a Tracer with them. she thought with a curse. Tracers, the unofficial name for those who hunted the unregistered mages and witches in the city. The hypocrites used the magic they despised to hunt others like them. It gave Eva a bad taste in her mouth when she thought of them. Had they marked her? A quick pat-down of her person suggested that was unlikely, still, it couldn't be a coincidence. They were following her turn by turn all across East End.

She risked another glance back, and her eyes widened as she realized the group of men was now closer. The one in front met her gaze, and she thought she saw him smile. Welp that settled things. She was screwed. Her pocket suddenly felt like it was burning her thigh as she picked up the pace, now half trotting between bodies and using her tail to push people aside. This earned her more than one glare down on the top of her furry head. That was Zaichaer for you. As open-minded and welcoming as ever. There wasn't much she could do. They were focused on her, and witches that were seen rarely escaped. Eva could feel the heat of the pyre on her skin even now. She broke out in a cold sweat and struggled to keep her feet moving.

As she passed a low stand Eva ducked down the alleyway, slipping between the crowd and breaking into a run. She heard the shout to halt behind her, but she ignored it and leaped onto the nearest open stall, using it to bound forward and grab ahold of a ledge which she uses to shimming over to a dented drain pipe. As quick as she could she scurried up the pipe, throwing herself onto the slanted roof and throwing herself into a full sprint. Below her, the bodies of people parted as armored men stormed through surprised market-goers. Sounds of gunfire, flintlocks flaring and Eva felt a burning in her right shoulder but with focus she pulled the sensation inward, storing it away and ignoring it as she kept moving.

Throwing herself off the edge of the roof Evana hit and rolled on the roof of the next building, breaking her momentum and carrying herself forward. A glance to the side saved her as she saw the metallic net sailing toward her. Then she did something incredibly stupid. Sucking in a breath she snatched at a note two buildings over. Her vision blurred and the world shifted as she half stumbled, half fell onto hard tiles after the uncontrolled blink. A whistle blew, and a sense of dread filled Evana's chest. More would come.

Breathing out slowly Evana shook her head and grit her teeth. A look around told her she knew where she was, and with that realization there came a glimmer of hope. Jumping two more buildings Eva paused at the edge of the third, jumping down and grabbing onto stone and clothing lines to slow her fall before hitting the ground with a thud into another momentum-breaking roll. She didn't wait to consider before darting right, weaving between stacks of crates and barrels and sliding between the feet of an angry man in a white apron and under a covered stall.

Not for the first time, Evana thanked the gods for her small stature, for while the man crouched and reached for her his bulk could not reach under his stall without knocking over his wears. She gave him a rude gesture and a grin before crawling away on all fours. She was in Vendor's Row, a rather special part of East End. It was a long series of interconnected stalls and tables that sold a variety of wares, but the urchins of Willowby Street knew it by a different name. This was the Labyrinth, an unlikely refuge for the small thieves and pickpockets, as the many stalls, wagons, tables and stands all made for a maze-like series of tunnels that only the smallest could take advantage of. One could travel clear across Vendor's Row without ever stepping foot on the streets if you were willing to crawl on your belly most of the way. That, however, was not the only reason Evana felt a surging sense of hope. This place was also home to one of the neutral safehouses of the Covens, and THAT was Eva's real goal.

It was tight. Despite her stature, Evana had to accept that she was a mature woman now. That meant that some of the tight squeezes she had traveled as a child were now nearly impossible for her to traverse, which meant she had to take several slower detours. She could hear beyond the walls of cloth and wood the sound of heavy metal boots. They would turn over the entire market if they had to, but Evana planned to be gone long before they had the chance. At last, she reached it. The hidden entrance to the safehouse was hidden in the cobblestones near the north side of Vendor's Row. It was mostly food stalls, which helped to hide the smell that typically came from Sewers. So close, but as she reached for the hidden latch Evana realized there was a rather large obstacle in the way.

A large pair of well-polished boots stood directly on top of her escape hatch. Eva wanted to scream, but she took a calming breath instead. She couldn't keep hiding, and she needed to make this person move... Thinking quickly Evana shifted her form. They would be looking for a Ratgirl, not a goblin.

Evana popped out from under the stall next to the tall man, and she looked up to smile a pointed goblin smile at him but paused. She looked up, and up, and up until she was almost craning her neck to stare into the silver eyes of the intimidating man before her. Evana's eyes flicked to the wings and she felt the edges of her lips twitch, but a quick glance to the side where the glint of metal could be seen made her harden her resolve.

"You're a big one ain't ya? Your mom's a real champ, she is." Evana forced a laughed. The soldiers were pushing their way toward them, the man in front sweeping his hard eyes through the crowd, searching. She wasn't an obvious Rathari anymore, however, her leather and cloth attire might still be recognizable to them. Zaichaer didn't much care for Goblin's either, a sentiment that this vendor owner seemed to areas he raised an eyebrow at Evana as she appeared.

"Hey, c'mere," The goblin said, motioning for the man to stoop down so she could whisper in his ear, "I'm in a bit of trouble... Blamed for something I didn't do, and now the steam heads are after me. You look like a decent fellow, and not from 'round here right? Mind sayin' I'm your guide to get them off my back?"

Though she tried to project a nonchalant attitude, Evana could not hide the genuine fear in her eyes as she looked at the approaching soldiers. She knew if they caught her it wouldn't be time... She'd get the Pyre. That simple truth made her desperate, and ready to keep running if she had to. Eva hoped though that the man would sympathize just a little, at least long enough to let her slip away or into the safety of the sewers.

"Please?" She nearly begged.

[Talon]

A Rat's Tail

74 Glade 121

The truth of who a people were could often be found in the heart of their commerce places. Avenna, the Demigoddess of Trade and Commerce was perhaps one of the most widely known deific figures next to Ioniri. The Guild of Coins, the most expansive and powerful banking institution in the world had banks and vaults in nearly every major city on the continent, as far as he knew. Talon realized then that, despite the Guild of Coins and the aven being the standard currency used in most places he could think of, he did not see much in the way of avid worship of the trade goddess. Avenna herself was not a figure he was intimately familiar with. Business and commerce were simply a facet of life, it lived and breathed with each civilization following the trends and patterns unique to each locale. He supposed when, as a god, one presided over something so fundamental to civilization itself, there was little in the way of needing an active following.

That was something that Talon was still struggling with. A following. He had one. There were men and women who knew who he was. It was one thing for his bondmates and partners to carry his Emblem, he gave it to them because he loved them. He wanted them safe. He wanted them healthy and he wanted them to be able to reach out to him when they needed him most. But then there were others, elves in the far reaches of Sol’Valen, Auris and Dalquia, living in quiet who now were more active. Men and women who whispered over the symbols that they now carried, symbols he supposedly had given them in his previous life. They were not people he knew but he could feel that they wanted to know him. There was such an earnest hope in many of them. He could feel them but in truth? Talon was almost afraid of it.

The consequences of his infantile divinity were making themselves evident much sooner than he would have thought. He did not know how he would come to handle a growing following.

“I feel safer here than in the embassy.” Aoren’s voice growled out as he kept close. His comment made Talon chuckle.

“I believe that is the point.” He sighed and felt a note of homesickness go through him. Already he missed the crisp mountain air. He wanted to go flying over the Astralar Mountains. He wanted to spend time tending to his shop, teaching Velkan, listening to Sylas and Pyrrah bicker over their favorite teams in the Hunter’s Challenge of the Slayer’s Keep. He had not been in Zaichaer for even a week and already he could see what his father always spoke of so solemnly. The feeling of always being watched, the sense of dread that came with wondering whether what he did or said caused offense, it was tiring in a way that even some of the most exhausting physical bouts in the Warrens were not. The mental jousting constantly at play was taxing, especially when juxtaposed with the other things that interjected in his thoughts.

That thought, it seemed, came at just the right time or perhaps the wrong one. It lanced through his skull causing him to wince. Bringing up the tips of his fingers to his brow, Talon massaged his head. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt, not for the first time, a very loud, powerful and terrified call for help. It was a call for justice. It was a call for an end to something so vast that Talon did not even think he could put a name to it. It was deep and complex and it took everything in him to not simply react purely out of instinct. He wanted to follow that cry, for it was just one of several that had stabbed through the mental walls he had surrounded himself with since arriving in Zaichaer.

“It’s the Calling isn’t it?” He felt his bondmate’s hand upon his shoulder. He felt both of his partners lend their strength. It helped soothe the ache.

“I will be okay.” It was as he was letting out a long breath that a voice, this one much nearer than expected, called up to him. He looked down to see the diminutive form of a Goblin smiling a toothy grin up at him. Beside him, Aoren stiffened but Talon sent a thread of calm to him. He was in no danger. Not yet, at any rate. He looked upon her, the silver of his eyes glinting slightly as he felt that ache in his skull grow more focused before clearing. Kneeling down, unconcerned with the sound of shouts making their way toward him, Talon focused on her. He opened himself up to her emotions.

Fear. She was afraid. More than afraid, she was dreading whatever it was that was coming for her. She was terrified for her life. Talon did not know the reason. She said she did not do something. He did not know if he believed her. But the urge inside of him said that he had to make a choice. So he made it.

Rising to his feet, Talon swept out a wing, moving to stand in front of her. He curved it, so that the feathers partially obscured her form. Behind him, Aoren moved, sensing Talon’s intent. Within moments, heavy armored boots came pounding up toward them. Talon regarded the guards that approached with an air of detached interest.

“You! Pigeon! Have you seen a rat!? We seek it in the name of the Reconciliators for suspicion of sorcery against the State!” Talon felt his partner’s anger swell at the overt slur. Talon urged him to be still and be silent.

“I have not seen a rat. No.” The guard narrowed his eyes. Talon met his stare without flinching. The man opened his mouth to speak only for whistle blowing to catch his attention and the attention of those with him. Talon watched them leave. When they were far enough away, he moved his wing, looking down to the goblin.

“Are you hungry? My partner and I do actually need a guide.” Aoren piped up then.

“To get food. A guide to get food.” Talon smirked.

"I am Justice"

[Evana]

They were growing closer, so close that Evana could smell the mixed stench of sweat and metal. The man in front had a mean look in his eye. He liked his job, Eva thought, so when he glanced toward them she shuddered and unconsciously drew closer to Talon.

"Please." She whispered again, just before she was suddenly sheltered by the softest down she had ever felt. She hadn't expected it. At best she hoped to use him to distract the men coming toward them, but when she looked up at this man's face she saw something else entirely. Encased in a dome of feathers Evana felt safe, a warmth filling her chest due to the man's nearness as she was unintentionally touched by his power. So foreign, so alien, and yet more comforting than anything Evana had ever experienced in her lifetime.

The sharp voice of the Reconciliator snapped Evana out of her revelry, and she flinched, falling into a crouch and steadily shuffling backward further behind the large man. She would have run, but her hand brushed another large foot, which made Eva look up and cower slightly under the intense gaze of the man's companion. Eva gave the other man a winning smile before slinking slightly to the left, closer to her apparent savior.

The entire interaction took less than a few seconds, but when they finally stomped away Eva released a breath she had not realized she had been holding. Then she spat in their direction, giving them a rude gesture before spinning and patting the man with silver eyes on the shin.

"Good job, good job! I knew I could count on you." Eva said with another large smile, which somehow grew larger when food was mentioned. She then fell into a sweeping bow, adding a bit of a flourish at the end before straightening, "Sir, you should never ask a goblin if she is hungry. It's just plain rude... and of course, we are."

Evana laughed, relief flooding her as the adrenaline of the entire chase began to steadily wane. She had escaped, she was alive, and for at least one more day she wouldn't face the pyre. Instinctively she touched the pocket that held the unrefined dragonshards, ensuring they were secure before motioning to the two tall folks.

"To show my thanks I'll be your guide for the day." She glanced at Aoren and added swiftly, "For food. I know of just the place, but uh... you might have to crouch."

Turning Evana stepped up to the side of the stall, glancing around all directions, even up, before motioning for the two to follow her, "Make sure you stay close. The streets get a bit confusing to foreigners." And with that she was off.

Goblins were small, short by most racial standards, and because of this, they had to be a bit creative in their paths. If they traveled only the main roads and streets they would quickly find themselves trampled underfoot at the next big sale, and Evana had learned long ago that she needed to know every path if she were to make it long as a Runner. So at the first side street, she made a sharp right, using a set of boxes as steps to clamber up and over a tall wooden fence heading back the way they had come, though in a different direction. As she was slipping over the edge she would wave at Talon and Aoren, indicating that they were supposed to follow.

They have wings. Eva reasoned as she dropped to the ground, Shouldn't be a problem for them right? Of course she didn't consider flight in close quarters, or really anything beyond the path ahead. But, well, they would figure it out surely? Evana would lead them down a series of similar odd and looping pathways. Sometimes she would take them to the roofs where she would casually hop between chimneys, and at other times they would slip under a bridge in the waterway and follow a narrow ledge just a few feet from where dirty brown water flowed at a sluggish pace. Finally, though, they would arrive at a long, packed alleyway filled with people dressed like the lower caste. The alley was somewhere on the border between East End and the Grundgeworks, and the smell usually reminded Evana of stinky cheese and old man sweat. It smelled like home.

"Mind your heads." Evana said as she walked under low hanging clotheslines whose linens did not even brush the tops of her ears. This was known as the Backalley, or just 'the Alley' to Evana's kind. A lot of Coven's set up near here and some of the most common entrances into the Sewers were found deeper in. This was also a well-traveled area for many of the common black markets, and it just so happened to be where she needed to drop off her parcel. Later though.

Stopping next to a large rubbish bin Evana motioned her followers closer. There was a back door set into the wall of the alley, a small sign over it had a crude drawing of a rath on it.

"Now don't go embarrassing me." Eva said with a serious tone, motioning at the door, "Old Gordo don't talk much, but he's good people, and the best cook this side of Willowby Street. Whatever you do, do NOT ask about the eye." Again she looked at Talon and Aoren with a serious expression before opening the door, which was low enough to force the Aviale to crouch, and walking in with a large grin.

"I'm back!"

The restaurant, for that was exactly what it was, was barely deep enough for 4 men to stand abreast in. There was a single table in the corner where a pair of the rough sort were sitting and drinking, and they looked up with a scowl at the group as they entered. Evana walked right up to the bar, clambering onto one of the broken stools and waving to a large back beyond. There was a heavy thud as a cleaver was stuck into a knifeblock and Gordo, who was far too large to fit in such a small space, turned to glare at Evana as he wiped red from his hands on a dirty apron.

Gordo was large, likely near 7 feet tall himself were it not for his stooped posture. There was some orkhan blood in him, and probably a bit of Hob, for when he snarled he showed broken tusks and a series of pointed teeth. His eyes were two different colors, one green, and one blue. His nose looked like it had been broken and set far too many times, was missing several fingers, and his jaw hung crooked giving him a constant snarling demeanor. He was large, but not muscled, and moved with a limp to the counter where he leaned over Evana threateningly. For Evana's part, she didn't flinch and even smiled up at the snarling man until he finally grunted and leaned back.

"What want?"

"My usual, and some blood ale for me and my two friends here." She replied cheerily, prompting Gordo to glare at Talon and Aoren in turn.

"They're good people, Gordo, promise." Evana said quickly, slipping a small parcel over the counter, which Gordo stared at for a second before accepting with a grunt. When Gordo returned to his chopping block Evana subtly sighed but caught herself as she glanced sideways at the other two.

"Come on, have a seat." Evana motioned to the rest of the open chairs at the bar. It wasn't long before three large mugs were slid down the counter toward them. Evana caught hers, which was so large she needed two hands. The drink was a deep red, and the foam on top was tinted red as well. It was strangely sweet, with the mix of spices making Eva feel the warmth through her chest.

"So what are you two doing in Zaichaer?" Evana asked curiously, setting her mug down and wiping the foam from her lips, "It's not really the nicest place to people who don't fit in, especially the magical sort." She gave Talon an odd look then like she couldn't figure something out.

"I don't really get it but... You feel like a walking dragonshard to me." Evana said suddenly, pointing at Talon, "You got so much aether spilling of you it makes my fur stand on end. You some kinda master mage or somethin'? Why didn't the Reconciliator's kill you on sight?"

[Talon]

A Rat's Tail

74 Glade 121

There was something enjoyable about the mischievous glint that twinkled in her eye. Talon simply arched an eyebrow. Through the lens of his Semblance, he could see that her aura was suffused with a sense of relief. He wondered, just how close to death had she been? This was not the first time that he had gotten a glimpse of the overwhelming dread that filled people whenever the Reconciliators made an appearance. They were feared even more than the soldiers that marched through the streets, enforcing the will of the Grand Marshal at every turn. It brought into focus for him the stark differences between his homeland and that of the foreign lands of Zaichaer. It also made him realize just how much he stood out as different.

When the goblin took off, Talon nodded his head to his companion. The two of them followed after her as casually as two staggeringly tall winged men could, which was to say, they did not blend in at all. It was moments like these that Talon considered taking up one of several different forms of magic. He was hesitant to do so given the changes that had happened to him over the past few seasons. He had no idea how his body and his soul would react to another initiation into a magic discipline. It was not something he was willing to try. Off the top of his head, the gifts of Masquerade would have served him well in helping to blend in. Under the observation of the Reconciliators however, he supposed that would have aroused greater suspicion than they already viewed him with.

When they reached the alleyway, Talon simply leapt over the fence, tucking his wings in close so as not to get caught up in anything nearby. His companion followed suit, jumping up and over the fence with an athleticism one would expect for a man of his physique and stature. They followed after the goblin as closely as they could until finally they reached what he could only assume was their intended destination. Across their bond, Talon could feel his partner’s skepticism at arriving. The sign of the rat hanging over the back door made Talon blink but he had certainly been to less hospitable locations in his travels. The journey to Atinaw had been a long one and it had yielded many interesting locations, to say the least. The two of them shared a look as they stepped into the interior. Both men were forced to stoop as they entered, tucking their wings in tightly in order to squeeze through the doorway.

Gordo was, well, he was what Talon expected from the owner of this particular establishment. At least, Talon assumed he was the owner. The man looked to be a mix of Orkhan and Hobgoblin blood. He was bulky but not muscular with a slouching stature that told Talon he spent most of his time bent over something or other. When the man’s heterochromic gaze settled upon himself and Aoren, neither of the Avialae flinched. Talon did not miss the small parcel that slid between their new guide and the barkeeper. When their guide motioned for them to be seated, Talon took up what he thought was the sturdiest seat that could bear his weight. When he was certain it would not collapse beneath him, he settled into it. Aoren remained standing, leaning against the bar with his arms folded over his chest. He kept his eyes trained on the door, taking in the small details of the establishment. Talon picked up his mug after sliding the other to his companion. He eyed the amber-red liquid for a moment before taking a sip. It was surprisingly sweet with a satisfying after taste that he found he enjoyed.

“We’re visiting from out of town.” Aoren spoke up, answering for the both of them. He picked up his ale, tasted it and blinked in surprise. The Kathar’s accent was distinct. Despite having lived in Kalzasi for years at that point, it still held the crisp and hard edge of Imperial Kathalan to it. He drank more from it with a satisfied nod. Talon met the goblin’s eyes, his silver gaze steady as he looked at her. He looked no further than the woman in front of him though he knew he could peer into the light of her soul if he so chose. He refrained from doing so.

“Yes.” It was true, Talon was a Master of Runeforging. He was approaching full mastery of the powers of Kinetics as well, he could feel it. Not to mention the ease with which he could call upon Semblance. But he knew without a shadow of a doubt, that was not why she could feel aether pouring off of him. In truth, it was not something he had given much thought to while he had been in Kalzasi.

Magic was commonplace in his homeland. It helped the city function. From the lights that illuminated the streets, to simple displays of street performance, to the formidable weapons and powers that the battlemages of the Guard employed to protect them, magic suffused the city far more heavily than Zaichaer. He supposed it gave him partial cover. With a city so heavily infused with active manipulation of aether, a fledgling demigod was harder to find in the masses.

Such was not the case in Zaichaer.

He heard Aoren snort derisively.

“They are welcome to try, if they want to be reduced to cinders.” The fire that burned naturally in his companion’s eyes flared slightly before settling. The both of them were aware of the abjinurium that the Reconciliators used to contain and entrap renegade mages. Talon, his family being one of the dominant powers in the dragonshard trade, was familiar with it. He knew enough about its trade to know that the more powerful forms of abjinurium were not used in garden variety magical policing activities. It would have been a waste to use such rare materials in such mundane functions. That meant that mages of his and Aoren’s caliber would be largely unaffected by a majority of the tools the Order used in its tactics. Their magic might be marginally disrupted but it would take far more than what most States were willing to give to grunt soldiers, to stop either of them.

“I am Alexios. This is my partner, Jarik.” Talon gave her their second names. He already stood out enough. Talon found that he could not bring himself to lie, per se. But he could omit certain things. He sipped at the ale.

“Why were they pursuing you?”

"Quote"

[Evana]

The goblin's eyes widened a fraction and she chocked slightly on her next gulp of ale.

"What? You serious?" Her expression shifted from surprise to suspicious, to disbelieving in the span of a few seconds, "Yeah, yeah whatever yeh say flyboy." She gave a dismissive wave of her hand and then frowned down at her cloak which was now damp. With a sigh she undid the clasp, revealing the bandages that wrapped every bit of exposed flesh. Some still showed recent wounds, such as one on the collar bone. It was difficult to keep your afflictions stored up, and Evana had to rewrap and clean the wounds daily or risk infection from the sewers. Her friends joked that she looked like one of those bandaged up dead corpses they got down south, but Eva didn't pay them any mind. She, like everyone else in Zaichaer, did what she had to do to survive.

Moping up the liquid that had spilled on the counter with her already damp cloak Eva copied the snort that the glaring wing boy made. Did they think she was stupid? No master mage in their right mind would come here of all places. They'd be off making trees float and clouds heavy. It was a lie, just like the names they had given her, but Eva didn't blame them. You couldn't be too careful in this city. One wrong word and the steam heads would come knocking. Zaichaer was the place that one's own mother would sell yeh out for a few silvers.

"Let's say I believe you, which I don't." Eva said as she cleaned the last of the spilled ale. She looked up and between the two, Alexios and Jarik, "If you WERE a master mage it still wouldn't matter. I heard it before, guys like you thinking they could stand up to the Reconciliations. Know what happened ta' them?" There wasn't a need to go further, and so Evana left it there. She took another quick draft and set her now empty mug on the counter, slapping the wood twice before turning back to her new friends.

As Eva opened her mouth to answer Alexios' question a heavy footfall made her turn. Gordo was leaning over the counter once more, and he put a polished white plate in front of Evana. It was an immaculately prepared cut of meat, cut in thin slices and sizzled slightly as red mixed with a dark brown sauce that encircled the entree. The plate itself was garnished and decorated with the vegetable sides, colorful and intricate and everything gave off a faint scent of herbs and spices. With a practiced hand, Gordo wiped the edges of the plate clean of any remnant sauce, completing the dish's appearance before turning around and walking into the back kitchen once more.

Eva breathed in the aroma, always captivated by that man's talent. She thought he wanted to be a chef as a kid, but the son of a witch can't get far in Zaichaer. Thus he ended up here, in the Backalley.

"My charms and my wit have beguiled many a man." The gobliness said with a pointy tooth grin and a wink at the demigod. Even as she said that her left pocket felt hot and far too heavy. Without waiting she dug into the food, making a semblance of politeness but inevitably began picking at the food with her fingers while she spoke, "Let's just say I ain't much liked. You probably know what it's like, eh Jarik?" Eva cackled as she snapped a slice of meat up and swallowed in one gulp. Wiping her hands on her pants she again looked at Alexios, "So outta town yeh say? There's a lotta places outta town. Which one you from?"

[Talon]

A Rat's Tail

74 Glade 121

Her reaction made Talon tilt his head. He blinked at her, studying her expression as best he was able. Was it that hard to believe? Talon did not know much about the magical community of Zaichaer, if it could be called that. He knew that the bulk of mages in the Brass City served either in the military or in the Reconciliators as people who policed other mages. It was the safest route to pursue an understanding of the arcane in such an oppressive place. Mages of exceptional power were rare, that much Talon knew, but he had not thought them so uncommon as to be figures that drew so much skepticism.

Talon took out a small brown pouch. He opened it and poured some of the contents onto the surface of the bar. It was finely ground violet-blue sand, a rarity in Zaichaer but commonplace for one such as Talon. Sorcerer’s Sand, one of the chief tools of enacting Scrivening in a ritual manner. With a gentle sweep of his hand, he spread some of it then began drawing lightly in the sand upon the surface as he spoke.

“Reconciliators primarily use abjinurium to serve as their chief mitigation tool in the use of suppressing magic. Aether is channeled. Which is the most accurate way to describe the use of a mage’s powers. We open specific pathways in our minds, souls and bodies in order to allow aether to channel through us.” To demonstrate this, Talon drew a circle in the sand. He then drew another circle on the opposite side. He connected the two circle with a single line, demonstrating the connection between the two points.

“Our aether is then linked up to the pathways around us. The union of the two then brings about the change in the world we wish to enact. Magebane does not negate one’s ability to channel aether so much as it scrambles the pathways needed to make it take effect.” Talon broke the single line in several places.

“The more powerful the stone, the more effectively it scrambles the pathways around us, closing us off not from our powers but from our ability to manifest them. Combine that with the skill of a Negation mage trained in obstructing those pathways even further, and it makes for a challenge to overcome but not an impossible one. Of course, finding the way around these effects assumes you have the time to do so, which most mages being hunted, do not.” Talon swept his hand over the sorcerer’s sand. With a flick of his thoughts he collected every last granule with his kinetics, forming a bubble beneath them and then drew the sand back into the pouch. He then closed it and pocketed it once more. There were other ways of circumventing the effects of abjinurium and even the power of a Negation mage but Talon left those things unsaid. One such avenue was simply being more powerful than the stone or negater could block. That was a brute force method and there were more subtle ways around it but it could work in a pinch.

When the food was brought out, Talon had to blink at it. It was a surprise, he was not going to lie. But he supposed he should not have judged the book by its cover. Gordo seemed a rather accomplished chef. He was looking forward to his food being brought out. Especially now that he had seen her plate. In short order, plates for himself and Aoren were brought out. They were expertly made, the smell wafting up from them was a delight for the senses. He smiled and breathed in the aroma. He slid Aoren’s plate to him, handing him utensils to eat. As soon as Talon took his first bite, he was not at all disappointed by the flavor or the texture.

“I happen to think I’m very much liked, thank you very much.” Aoren smirked over the rim of his mug before setting it down. He picked up his plate, holding it in front of him while he continued to keep an eye on their surroundings. He dug into his meal with gusto while Talon ate his at a more even pace. The goblin asked her question. Where we they from? Again, Talon would not lie to her. He did not want to say it aloud however so he occupied himself with another sip from his mug of ale. Thankfully, his bondmate interjected.

“Which one do you think?” One of his raven wings lifted slightly before settling down.

"I am Justice."