The day was cold. A surprising event, as it was the end of the winter months and the last week had been quite warm, but a fact nonetheless. At least it wasn't raining, though there were many large clouds in the sky, looming over the many towns and mountains and other spots of land below, with the imminent threat of bursting into heavy rain. This was not a surprise. At the end of the winter months, there was always an assortment of huge clouds and terrible weather waiting to strike the people below. It was only mid-day; there was plenty of time for that to happen still.

The weather had an effect on magic as well. A subtle, unconscious effect that dampened the inherent auras of magic users. Minor, but useful. This is what Akaros Kune was expecting. Every edge helped, especially when there was a good dozen powerful magic users in one place.

The place was a particularly old and beaten fort, set in a vast mountain range that served as the border between a warm, tropical climate and the vast sands of the south. The walls sagged, no longer wishing to carry their own mass. The place could have been made a thousand years ago by some ancient civilization. Perhaps it was. But that wasn't the issue.

Along with its age, it had a dampening effect of its own. A trivial reduction of power for everyone within, with the benefit of also heavily dampening the auras of the mages within. Yet another measure to remain undetected. While inviting a dozen quirky strangers was insecure, he was otherwise rather paranoid. Perhaps understandably - after all, the world was after him.

As for him; Akaros Kune, a mage that looked like he would rapidly decompose any minute. Powerful, yes. The air around him practically oozed with the arcane tweaks that he cast on himself over... a century? Two? It would be hard to tell, ancient mages looked the same, though typically because of an illusion to look far younger than they actually were. He plainly didn't put much work into his illusion; he looked like he was easily 80 or 90 years old. His skin practically rested on his bones, all covered by a black cloak that looked as old as he was. He sat on an old chair, or perhaps throne. It looked more like a throne, though it did not have ornate carvings, and it was a construct of stone.

The only thing that stood out was his eyes, deep blue orbs that looked human, yet had a piercing stare that any capable magic user would know was beyond the stare of any normal human. His eyes scanned people, quite literally, and his orbs checked every person to enter the room. It was a fairly large room, practically a throne room in fact, but with a long rectangular table running down the middle with chairs on each side. Everything was made of solid stone, so there was hardly any comfort to actually sitting in the chairs unless someone liked cold stone for their rears. Or magically enhanced the seats.

It was a wonder he was able to get messages out at all, as he didn't move at all from his seat, but that did not matter. He introduced himself by name and title as "just a mage", and he began business from there. The first hour was spent on waiting for people to arrive, starting with the first person to come in. The next hour, he didn't speak much at all. He merely repeated that he summoned them all to form a team, and the team would be hunting demons, rogue mages, and many more things. After his brief introduction, a life came to his voice.

"Now that we're all here-" yeah, right, there was almost certainly going to be someone walking in late- "Ask me questions, meet each other, and decide where we shall go first. North, South, East and West, there are many things to be done..." He was certain there would be questions. After all, he didn't actually tell them much. It was an ad-hoc summons using any means that would get the mages to come along, and he didn't even explain how he magically knew where each of them was and that they were magic users. The man himself remained a complete mystery to his audience...

The moment Orkag entered the fort, he was genuinely surprised at the amount of people present inside it, mostly because he expected the throne room to be empty and that it would be a place where he could spend the night before he would reach another city or town to preach his goal. However, the moment he entered, the man on the throne caught his eye, anyone with the slightest magical capabilities could tell that the person on it was immensely powerful, so he warily entered the room keeping his eyes on everybody present.

As he walked however, he could see that a number of people stared at him and realized that he looked quite conspicuous. He was a seven foot tall orc with crimson eyes, wearing the skull of a bull on his head and having two magical ravens perched on his shoulders. While most of the looks were merely curious, there might have been someone among the crowds who would not be more interested in felling him than study him, so he took a seat in the far corner of the throne room, though still near the mysterious figure on the throne.

He mentally ordered Beak, one of his ravens, to look at the mage as he looked through the raven's eyes, however, he could not tell anything about the figure that which he did not already know... that he was an immensely powerful mage, but nothing more than that. After waiting around for ten or more minutes, trying to comprehend the man, he simply gave up and realized that now the only way to find things out about this man was by asking him.

As he walked towards him however, he could see another person, a somewhat muscular tattooed bald woman, it didn't take him much to realized that like him, this person was trained in both magic and close combat, though he could not tell what weapon this woman used as she did seemingly bear any actual weapons on her. Before he could speak, the woman talked first, asking the old mage the purpose of their being there.

"That was one of the questions on my mind, but the other was... who are you old man, I can't tell who or what you are, but simply that you have magic easily beyond anyone present here." The orc asked in his thick, slightly guttural voice, narrowing his eyes at the man. "Or rather... what are you?"

As he spoke, one of his ravens flew up towards the roof of the throne room and perched itself on a small rock outcropping near the roof, watching everyone inside the throne, studying them to see if anyone was not showing their form, or if they posed any danger to him while he talked to the old mage.

Walking to a location far away from her current was not how Saffron Kelly believed she would end up, however that wasn't a negative. Saffron was no stranger to being on the move, for such reasons as need or pleasure, yet it allowed her to take in the sights that were around her. There was little danger for her in the way of fauna; Only those that took it upon themselves to sneak would were the real problem, she could talk herself out of a lot of situations if she lived long enough for the words to leave her mouth as the realisation their prey was speaking in their own tongue was enough to get many to listen. Insects were the real threat to her, they rarely communicated, though there were easy solutions to their particular problem.

The real negative of walking was the animals that stood on two feet, though mainly one particular breed of them; Humans. Every run in with them where they had discovered her true identity had ended up a bad one, and mage hunters would be on her tail instantly, if they weren't already. All they had to do was look for the person with the hood up. For all she knew, this invitation could be a very elaborate trap, no matter the circumstances. Saffron had learned to stay cautious.

It was easy to know that those at the gathering were other mages, though Saffron felt out of place amongst them. She was a child before them, despite her real age being otherwise, and furthermore, she wasn't even a proper species. What was she supposed to call her species if she was asked? Saffron was somewhat surprised that she had never thought of this before, however banished this thought with a quick answer; she didn't believe she'd be in a group of other mages that had friendly intentions (at least, she hoped and believed so).

The stone chair that Saffron sat on was cold against her, however she ignored the feeling and focused on the conversations and people around her. She didn't say a word yet, she wanted to see who to talk to, or if anyone would approach her, as well as get the replies to the questions already asked. She, too, was curious to what the answers would be, no matter how truthful.

Getting a magical summons was fairly rare for Mort. After all, no one really wanted to deal with a mage that brought sickness, decay, and death. But he wasn't going to be one to pass up the chance to hone his craft. And considering the place was so far out, perhaps it was some other mage who wasn't able to obtain some relic.

As Mort approach the fort, a sickening looking mist enveloped the area. Even with the magic dampeners in place, it didn't stop the faint green mist Mort exhumed from his body that spread around the area. Sure it probably wasn't going to hurt much of anyone, nor did Mort want it to here, but it was sure a foreboding sight. Mort looked around, and noticed a few interesting people who caught his eye, namely an Orc and the very powerful mage on the throne. As he approached the group, his mist seeping into every corner of the room, blanketing the floor in a faint green glow, he heard a women, then the orc speak and ask questions. Considering they had already asked the questions Mort would ask, he merely approached the group and sat down in a nearby chair, his raspy breathing only exemplifying the atmosphere he brought with him.

To put his possible new allies at ease, Mort said. "Do not fear the mist. It will not harm you. Can't have a plaguebringer lose his possible new friends now, can we?"

Their hood was up and their scarf was covering a large fraction of his face. ”I hate the cold.” Why not burn the town down? Then you'd be nice and warm. Pyro, as usual, gave his own opinion without being asked. What a nice guy. Aiden just ignored him and continued to the meeting point that had been specified. They could channel a small amount of magic, but the glow would give them away instantly. And I’ve run away enough. He just decided to move a bit faster. Eventually, they found themselves at an old fort. This place is really run down. I don’t think anyone would guess there are mages here. Pyro’s demonic touch noticed the aura of magic suppression, but Aiden (who was used to the warnings and them not being true) responded sarcastically and dismissed the warning. Something’s wrong. You always think something’s wrong, you just want to burn it down. Yes, but there is. Mmhmm.

As they walked in, they noticed a wide variety of characters. One that looked like a monk with tattoos all over her bodies. An orc wearing a shaman’s outfit wielding a staff of some sort. A… catgirl? I don’t know how to feel about that, other than that I want to pet her head. They did so as they walked past. As they continued on, they saw a man with a shroud of fog. Curious, they walked up to him. ”Do not fear the mist. It will not harm you. Can't have a plaguebringer lose his possible new friends now, can we?" they overheard. ”Personally, I think it’s cool. Certainly would scare off enemies. I’m Aiden,” and feeling like letting him loose a little, Aiden ceded the “controls” to Pyro for him to introduce himself. Their hair flashed bright red as Pyro spoke. ”And I’m Pyro.” Their hair turned back to its normal shade as Aiden took control again and stuck out their hand. ”And what’s your name?”

.
.

---

Sharadur heaved a mighty sigh, even as she shivered slightly from the cold. It looked like rain, and that was just fucking great. Most of her life, she never really minded the rain- after all, if you didn't like getting wet, you probably had no business aboard a ship to begin with. Here on the mainland things were different. Bundled up in layers of leather and metal that already felt strange and foreign to her, it only ended up making things even more miserable when she found herself soaked by a sudden downpour.

Eventually, she did manage to arrive at her destination. And what a dismal sight it turned out to be, just some run-down dump of an ancient fort that was probably older than dirt itself. Whatever jackass had sent for her obviously couldn't even be bothered to request a meeting in someplace remotely civilized, like a nice cozy tavern. Nope, instead they had elected to go all in on the spooky atmosphere to try and impress people. Nothing but pomp and ceremony was what these mainlanders truly valued in life, so how could she expect anything less?

Well at any rate, she was late. Her horse had thrown a shoe some miles back and it had taken her way more time than she cared for to get that taken care of. That meant she was the one who got to barge in all super-importantly right into the middle of some dimly-lit room, most likely right after someone dramatically stabbed a dagger into a map or asked if there were any final questions. Maybe her mysterious patron would even be pleased with how neatly she would be fitting into their little scene, if the choice of venue was any indication of how they operated. Bursting through the door to the large room where the current group of people had gathered, she ultimately ended up announcing her presence in a somewhat less than dramatic fashion. "Fuck me, it smells like an ogre's asshole in this dump."

Casting her gaze about briefly, she scanned the people assembled. While she frowned momentarily at the large orc, it was when she caught sight of the robed figure exuding green fart clouds like a goddamn fairytale villain that she seemed to decide on who was responsible for the current situation. Striding over to the table, she seated herself. Yet, after about thirty seconds of squirming and unsuccessfully attempting to re-position herself more comfortably, she gave up and realized that she might have just preferred standing this whole time. "I hope for your sake that shit ain't flammable." She muttered, shooting Mr. Greensmoke a glance as she did so. With that, she clapped her hands together briefly. When she drew her hands apart, a small ball of fire sparked to life between them. Letting out a sigh of relief as warmth flooded into her body from the small flickering flame, she found herself inwardly irritated that it had taken a bit more effort than usual to conjure up something so small.

"Whelp, I'm here now. Whaddaya want?" She demanded, addressing the plaguebringer after naturally assuming he was the one in charge of this carnival she felt herself getting more deeply caught up in even as she spoke. He certainly seemed to fit the bill, once everything else about this situation was taken into account. Obviously, he was here to offer her a magical adventure through rainbowland to retrieve his magical unicorn-horn trumpet before the great demon prince "Lord Superbad McMean" used it to ruin everything forever. Either that, or he could just as easily be some asshole petty noble who thought his minor inconsequential problems to be extra important for the sheer reason that they involved himself and thus felt the need to hire all the big guns to deal with his small problems. Either way, if it paid well, she was probably in.

---

A mismatched crew indeed. Well, that was what the old mage summoned, and that is what he got at any rate. He sensed others, late to arrive, but not far away. No matter. They would come or they wouldn't. There were already more than enough individuals for the task.

The first person spoke. 'Old Mage'. Well, it was a name. The rest of the question was simple and well presented. He would grace that with a... relatively straight answer.

"Well, to tell you that, perhaps I should say what I once did." The old mage leaned forwards and placed an elbow on his leg. "My task for the past... ten... twenty... fifty... oh, never mind, long time-" he rested his head atop that elbow- "Was handling problems. Little things, larger things, all the things you don't hear about very often. The mage who burns down a city, the mage who tries to take a kingdom for himself, the child with ridiculous magic from birth, a demon popping out of nowhere, all that - that was my job to handle. You don't hear about it very often, because it is handled. Now I'm old. Now someone needs to take that job, and I figure, who better than a capable crowd of beings such as yourselves. You'll do at least."

The next question was also predictable. That one, alas, he did not have a straight answer for. "What am I. Ah..." the mage leaned back and toyed with his bony chin. "You know, I've asked myself that for a few years now. I'm not quite sure. But I can say, at an early point in time, I was very mortal. I knew magic, certainly, but very mortal. What I am now, well, that's a tricky question. Who I am, that is up to you. I have many names, none that you would know. It is expedient to have several names in this business. I have my mage name, the name I give to demons, the names I give to some mages, names for dimwitted villagers, and a few names for more practical purposes than speaking. But, you can call me Kune. It's as good a name as any..."

The answer probably gave more questions than anything else, but the mage gave a small nod, satisfied that he said that much. Then he thought. "Is it cold in here? I can't tell. Tell me if this seems off." The mage flicked his finger, casting several red sparks up into the air, where they quickly expanded into small red mists that vanished in the air. Moments later, the temperature went up several degrees. "Mmm, that might do it."

He watched the others in the room, seeing what there was to work with. One with a whiff of demon, one who seemed to have a few... health problems. It was interesting to him for watch those interactions as they happened. Especially amusing was the fact that the plague bearer was taken as the leader in one case. He didn't lift a finger to correct that impression.

Orkag did not like the answer of the old mage, he found out a name, but it was most likely not even his true name. For a few moments he glared at the old mage again, trying to read him and his intentions, but other than his powerful aura, he simply looked like an old man. Orkag growled slightly in frustration and closed his eyes. However, as he closed his eye, Kune could see that the second magical raven, the one on his shoulders was staring straight towards him to analyze him.

@datadogie

As the raven looked around and studied the motely crew that had gathered, it noticed something out of the ordinary, not the plaguebringer, who people already seem to have thought to be the leader of this new band of people, but the young catgirl curiously looking around at everyone. The raven looked at her only for a moment longer before it left it's place on the small outcropping and flew towards her, gently landing on her shoulder careful not to harm her with it's claws and it looked at her with pools of a deep blue.

After a few moments of simply staring at her, the raven started to nuzzle it's head at the catgirl in what could possibly be as one of the ways the raven showed affection. Moments after, the raven jumped in her lap simply nested there, closing it's eyes and simply waiting.

What are you doing, you stupid raven, you're supposed to survey the area! Orkag asked the raven telepathically, only to receive no answer from it at all.

With another sigh of frustration he turns towards the old mage and nods briefly, before turning and walking towards the where his raven had landed, at the catgirl, without realizing that someone like him might scare someone like her with his looks in general.

"Girl..." He wanted to ask the girl what she had done to his raven, however, upon noticing her cat ears, he stopped in mild amazement towards it. However, as he thought, he realized that shouting at a little girl would not make him seem very friendly, so instead, he took in a deep breath and asked in a much calmer tone.

"Sorry for the rather abrupt question, young girl, but what's your name... a better question, that I hope isn't too rude, what are you?" he asked once more, this time sitting down a seat apart from her as to not intimidate her too much and simply awaited the answer.

Things were getting interesting. Apparently some people were thinking Mort was the one that had called everyone here! Although considering the main proprietors of this misconception were pyromancers, Mort didn't know if it was funny or not. "My name is Mort. I'm not the person who called you guys here, it was our lich friend over there that did that." Mort said, addressing the people looking at him as the leader, giving a wheezing chuckle afterwords. "And you, m'lady. I'd hope my plague wasn't flammable. Would make infecting others much harder if it was."

It was interesting that their summoner didn't even know what he was. Mort figured liches were common knowledge, but then he also studied death so maybe he was an outlier here. At any rate, he followed the Orc's eyes and took a look at the hybrid girl that he had missed earlier. The girl would probably be able to hide in Mort's plague with her stature the way it was. He chuckled a bit, then decided to see if he could strike up some conversation with his new acquaintances. "So, since we are an interesting group, who here wants to introduce themselves and state what their specialties are for our host here?" Mort said. Readjusting his scythe, he continued. "I am Mort the Plaguebringer. I practice the magic of death, disease, and decay. What about all of you?"

Her eyes flickering among the room, Saffron's attention quickly found itself upon a Raven that had just taken flight from the shoulder of an orc. Saffron focused on the bird rather than the orc, primarily because the former was flapping it's way toward her, however she did save part of her attention for the orc; the bird came from the orc, perhaps the orc had sent it at her. With people she didn't know, it could have been anything.

Saffron's head tilted slightly to the side as the raven landed on her shoulder, a gentle smile on her face appearing once it had landed on her lap. She moved her hand to run a single fingertip over it's feathers, letting the bird relax there, however her attention shifted entirely upon the Orc moving. Something about being smaller than those around her was that everything seemed like a threat, and Saffron was forced to control herself quickly; being in such a situation many times before, that wasn't hard.

Adding to the ease of calming was the Orc's reaction toward what Saffron guessed was her cat ears. She fought not to grin as he asked her a pair of calm questions and sat himself down, only offering a calm smile as her finger traced over the raven's feathers again. "Very abrupt, but I understand why. I'm Saffron. And what I am, well. You could call me Human, because that is what I was. You could call me a catwoman or catgirl. Perhaps I should just announce myself as a spirit of nature, because that's what I look like," she replied, her voice smooth, her tone mature for her apparent young age.

"And yourself? What is your name?" Saffron asks the Orc, keeping an eye on other conversations. "Does this beauty on my lap belong to you?"

The sky was a dark shade of grey as the cold wind blew sending leaves tumbling along the small trail that wound its way precariously through the mountain path. Antoinette shivered and drew her robes in tightly as she silently cursed the weather this far north and the cold that chilled her to her very core, especially on an afternoon like this one. Colossal dark clouds swirled overhead drifting silently on the breeze bringing the forebears of rain.

“Just what I need right now…” she muttered dryly to herself as she glared at the sky.

Her destination surely had to be close now, though the maps she had used to find the place were old the features of the land had not changed at all. She spared a few moments to wonder about the past civilization that had once occupied this mountain range. The scholar she had purchased the map from had known little of them other than the fact the hills and mountains of the area contained the long buried and forgotten ruins of all that was left. As she rounded a bend in the path as if to answer her thoughts the looming figure of the ancient fort could be seen where it had long ago been constructed overlooking the pass below. It looked as if it maybe once had been an intimidating military presence, however those days were obviously long behind it. The words crumbling, decrepit and shithole came to Antoinette’s mind as she paused to survey what was left of it. There also seemed to be something else, something hanging on the air surrounding the fort within a close proximity. Her face wrinkled into a frown as she eyed it suspiciously from a distance trying to determine exactly what it was. After a short while she continued her approach, her eyes fixed firmly upon her destination as she focused on the task at hand.

As she grew close it became clearer that it was a foul-looking mist that seemed to centre itself upon the fort, one which she had not seen the like of for many years.

““A Plaguebringer?” she asked herself under her own breath. She wondered briefly if there was a chance that this was her old friend Dural, but swiftly discounted the thought. He would be dead – just like everyone else she knew, she reminded herself bitterly. Best not to kindle such hopes.

She took a final deep breath of fresh air before she made her way into the old fort, taking care to move silently as she did so. As she found her way through the old and ruined corridors she quickly followed the sound of voices into a central chamber. It seemed she was late.

Without a word Antoinette made her way in and leant herself against the back wall half hidden in shadows as she listened to what was being said as she took in the scene.

Almost centrally there was a mage who looked ancient himself, not just old but his eyes seemed to radiate his arcane abilities as they scanned the room. She felt them piercing through her briefly as he seemed to notice her, but moments later they were elsewhere as he continued to speak and introduce himself. There was also an assortment of other individuals that were focused upon him around the room.

Sat watching the others was a muscular woman with a shaved head. She looked to be some kind of monk or priest from her appearance, however Antoinette also noticed that she was covered in animalistic tattoos unlike any other priest or monk she had ever seen.

In the corner of the room to her surprise there was a hulking orc sat watching a young girl with slightly… feline features – “‘Curious’ she mused. There was a raven perched upon her lap, which moments later the orc stood and approached. He looked even larger when he stood up. In any other setting Antoinette might have worried and reacted – after all she had been raised with the warning that all Orcs were barbaric brutes that loved to kill and rampage and drink the blood of innocents. It hadn’t taken much travel for her to find out that though whilst this was true of some Orcish tribes, it certainly wasn’t the case for a large minority of their brethren. She watched briefly with some small amount of amusement as the Orc even seemed to restrain his tone as he asked her a question.

Next her eyes flicked to a hooded and masked individual who sat wheezing in and out as he drew breath. A rather savage scythe sat next to him and it seemed that the foul mist was centred upon him. It was clear to her that he was the Plaguebringer – he did look a little like Dural, however it definitely wasn’t him.

Stood with his arms folded was a rather… scarred individual who looked like he’d been through more than a few fires in his time. ‘Pyromancer’ she noted to herself. She hadn’t met a single Pyromancer who hadn’t mirrored the element they dedicated themselves too – fiery, passionate, hot-tempered and usually inpatient. She wondered if this one would be any different.

Next and finally stood closest to the doorway was… “oh, two Pyromancers? From behind she examined the woman stood before her, she was taller than Antoinette and clad in armour and a not to modest amount of weaponry was slung at her side. Her fiery red hair and few wafts of smoke enough to give her away as another discipline of fire – or again that was at least what Antoinette gathered from where she hung back at the rear of the room.

She spared a brief moment to consider what she looked like, lingering at the back and skulking amongst the shadows as she eyed up those that had also answered these summons. She decided she didn’t particularly care as she maintained her position and her silence as she let the others do the talking. She listened as they introduced themselves.

The raven on her lap sat contentedly as Saffron pet it, seemingly ignoring the slight glare Orkag gave it occasionally due to simply refusing to talk to him. Orkag calmed down as he listened to the young girl, it seemed like the girl did not cast any charming magic on his raven familiar, though he was still confused as to why the raven had chosen her of all people.

"Haha!" Orkag started to laugh quite loudly once he heard the girl call herself a spirit of nature, realizing that she might have well been able to fool the shamans of his tribe that she truly was a spirit of nature. [color=ed1c24]"I apologize for my sudden outburst of laughter, but had you passed through my tribe, you could very well have been considered a spirit of nature, or at least blessed by one." Orkag said with a large smile on his face, any sign of hostility that he restrained within himself vanishing as if it was never there.

"My name is Orkag the Bloodletter, however, I ask you that you call me simply Orkag, the title is something I would rather people not call me. As for the raven itself, it doesn't belong to me, but rather it's one of the two raven familiars that have chosen to accompany me and it seems that one over there has taken a liking to you." He said, and as if on signal, the other raven perched down from the orc's shoulder flapped it's wings a few times to make it's presence known.

"I'm sorry if I'm pestering you with questions, but I have a few more, if you don't mind." He said, removing the rather ominous looking bison skull he was wearing as a helmet and other than the crimson eyes, he looked rather normal. "why did you come here and... erm, what type of magic can you cast?" Saffron and anyone looking at the moment could see that orc looked more like a curious child than the bloodthirsty orc his looks made him up to be.

---

Huh. So she was mistaken. The gassy spook wasn't the one responsible for this cute little gathering of magical friends. Damn, she had been so certain- he even had a scythe and everything. She frowned slightly, catching herself before it turned into a downright scowl. She was not overly fond of being wrong, especially in front of a big crowd of new people she was supposedly going to be working with to some degree. Whelp, that couldn't be helped now. At least it seemed the rest of the group had either ignored her minor gaffe or wisely chosen not to comment and thus keep their eyebrows. After the old mage had finished speaking, she started to open her mouth to voice her own questions, but others beat her to it.

For starters, it seemed the big orc had taken particular interest in the small catgirl and the pair of them decided to have their own conversation off to the side, apparently ignoring the one who had just been giving details of what he expected of this group. On the other hand, the gassy spook she initially mistaken for being responsible for this gathering seemed intent on making introductions. "Of fucking course he calls himself 'the plaguebringer'." she muttered in a voice that would only barely be audible to those closest to her- in this case the bald, tattooed woman seated beside where Sharadur stood. Clearing her throat and allowing the small ball of fire she had conjured for warmth wink out now that the old mage had taken care of the frigidness of the hall, she let her palms rest on the table and leaned forward to speak.

"I'm Leneyl of the northern marches." she casually lied, completely ready to pull whatever follow-up deflections and lies straight out of her ass if these people decided to pursue and lines of prying small talk even tangentially involving her personal life. It was something she had become quite practiced at over the course of her former career, brief as it had been. "To be frank, while this job you talk of sounds super noble and all, I can't say I'm one hundred percent sold on the concept." She continued, now looking to the one who had summoned this group for answers. "Seems pretty suspiciously vague so far. I'm looking to hear some specifics and, more importantly, I wanna know what kind of compensation we can expect for running around being big damn heroes on your behalf. I dunno about the rest of this motley crew, but I've got debts to settle and hungry mouths to feed- namely my own."

---

Saffron attempted not to cringe as the orc let out laughter, keeping her cat ears uncurled and bearing the full sound of the laugh. "Then perhaps I should just call myself a spirit. It may convince the religious not to hang me on sight. It'd be nice to be accepted for once," Saffron replied to the orc. "Perhaps other tribes may feel the same way yours does about spirits. Anything of nature is a friend of mine, Humans, Orcs, any. Save for demons." She shook her head.

Her smile could not help but grow as she thought about how the situation would look to others. A small girl talking to a massive orc, like something out of an artist's creation rather than that of actuality. "Well, as funny as it may seem, I use nature magic. Manipulating nature. I can communicate with animals, too. I'm hoping to do more with my magic, to develop and create new spells, though that would take a lot of effort."

Trying to reverse a certain spell is proving to take the most effort, Saffron thought to herself for a moment, wiggling her cat ears to herself a little.

"I came here to help get rid of demons. At least, get rid of the bad ones," the cat girl replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "If there are any good ones. Every race has an outcast." Humans made me one, after all.

Aiden was a tiny bit miffed Mort hadn’t accepted his handshake, but quickly dismissed it in favor of diplomacy. ”That sounds like a good idea.” He turned toward their strange host and introduced himself a bit cockily. ”I am Aiden Blazerunner. Pyromancer, desert wanderer, and the man for a job. Anything you need,” he paused while summoning a fireball, his tattoos lighting up while doing so. He rolled it along his arm, along his shoulders, and caught it in his other hand. He threw it at the mage before stopping it with his arm outstretched. He curled his fingers and re-caught the ball of unbridled heat. He channeled back into pure mana and felt the warmth travel up his arm as the magic flowed back into his reservoir. ”I can do. Now, while I appreciate a roof over my head and a purpose to fulfil, I’m going to cut to the chase. You clearly have something in mind for us, so. What is it?”

Orkag's raven received a glowing stare in reply. It would find nothing. It could find nothing. Such an entity had no power here, did it? Maybe it did. Either way, the raven looked away before too long, and Kune could focus on things of more import.

And then came the question of the fire mage. Kune had to fight not to roll his eyes. Of course. People and their lust for compensation... He didn't roll his eyes, but his mouth took a slight dip. He could scowl, couldn't he? "Specifics, oh, that depends on what you want to do. There's a little demon infestation a few miles north of here, which I'm sure wouldn't be trouble. And compensation... oh..." He rolled his eyes anyways. "...well, I suppose you may find conveniently placed chests of gold for jobs well done..." He wasn't quite joking. But, his tone left room for doubt. "And I'm sure an appreciative populace would not mind sparing a small pot of gold here and there to their saviors." He then turned his attention to... gods, another fire mage. His tricks did not change Kune's expression, including his scowl. The little piece of fire was nothing, and if the mage before him was not careful, he would be nothing as well.

"Many things, if you do well. But for now, a little infestation to the north could use a cleaning. And I hear there's a mage who is less than friendly working on a town a few miles to the west. Both should be handled. Now. I think we have enough people." He lifted a hand and slammed it on his armrest, sending several transparent blue streaks outwards. They hit those few who had not yet spoken or shown signs of life at all, making them vanish from the room, and leaving his most immediate audience to remain. "Well, for now. The human race has a tendency to drop off after a while, so perhaps there will be more." He spoke the last words calmly as he sat back a little more in the old seat. These questions... he would answer more, but they were becoming just a little bit dull. Compensation. They asked about compensation...

"But for now, a little infestation to the north could use a cleaning. And I hear there's a mage who is less than friendly working on a town a few miles to the west. Both should be handled."

Antoinette focused on the words of the ancient mage Kune, digesting what he had said as she continued to dwell silently towards the rear of the room. A 'little' demon infestation... she had not heard a more casual description of an issue that had the potential to spiral wildly out of control before and she felt a slight smirk spreading to her lips.

As for a rogue mage, that matter she did not find entertaining at all.

Already she knew that she would be willing to undertake both tasks. But which was the most important, she asked herself. A rogue mage always had the potential to cause massive destruction and death, though usually they lacked the extremely evil nature of demonic forces. She disposed those that damaged the reputation of magic users and would happily try to eliminate such an individual.

Demonic issues though had a habit of multiplying exponentially if they were left unopposed. Her mind went back to the minions of Ulgozil and how they had defeated and taken practically an entire nation. She wondered briefly if the situation there was resolved at all, or if the people of the Aganorat region still lived in constant fear and misery. She pushed the thoughts from her mind, unwilling to remember more from her past and instead she focused on the situation on hand.

It did not occur to her to share her thoughts with the others and open the topic to discussion.

After a little more thought she made up her mind.

With a slight step forwards she simply said "North.... we should go north before the situation becomes worse than it undoubtedly already is."

As she spoke her emerald gaze flicked around the room to see if any would oppose her suggestion. It wasn't that she was unfriendly (though it certainly must be coming across that way) but rather she was out of practice when it came to spending time with others.