Summary of the Eagle’s Talon<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Key Members:<br/>Mylin: Owner, assassin. Beautiful and deadly, with a number of supernatural abilities that make her easily on par with the foursome.<br/>Staniel: Minor prophet, able to detect probabilities and outcomes well enough to win most bets.<br/>Chasen: Shapeshifting muscle, capable of troll-like regeneration and able to survive all but the most devastating of attacks. He’s also resistant to magic and fire, which make him doubly effective.<br/>Larsony: A female capable of manipulating minds with any of her facilities – voice, appearance, etc. She also has the ability to commune with animals and insects, making her an ideal spy. </div></div><br/><br/>There came a lull in activity around the fleeing group; near the massacre of fox, the efficient manhandling of Knight, and the careful subtlety of former General. The city remained in chaos, people milling about the streets all throughout the docks and nearby domains. Some fights continued to break out and mercenary groups, acting on orders, continued to sift through the madness in order to find their quarry. The passage of time was not on their side though; the more organized the city’s resistance became, the more of their numbers that were caught, killed, or otherwise detained, the less of a hold the mercenaries would have on their own in the aftermath. This little military action, although energetic, would have a lingering cost on Kulratha.<br/><br/>Mylin turned to Chasen, his bulk currently barely over eight feet, hide so thick that it looked like his skin was made of armor. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”<br/><br/>Chasen grunted expressively.<br/><br/>“They are going to escape without much effort at this rate,” Staniel murmured from nearby, to which Larsony nodded agreement.<br/><br/>The primary members of Eagle’s Talon stood in one of their private safe holds, a darkened room at the end of an alley near which Methuseld was about to pass on her way to the stable. They’d arrived with lightning speed that was part training, part familiarity with the city, and part supernatural assistance in one shape or another.<br/><br/>“You’ll need to fix that then, won’t you,” Mylin said, addressing Larsony with an arched brow, as if to suggest the woman had been sleeping through everything that had been happening thus far.<br/><br/>Larsony, a beautiful, petite woman with the sorts of curves that magic *probably* had a hand in, dimpled and shrugged distractingly, her expansive breasts producing an almost elastic wobble. “As you wish,” she said, voice smoky.<br/><br/>As she ran, a single small insect – a cricket – jumped upon Methuseld’s cloak and began producing a rather odd melody. There was something sensuous in that tone, something sinful and delicious and insightful. But beneath that was something more…bloody. Mercenaries were coming. People were coming to stop her, to weigh her down, to keep her from obtaining her objectives. How dare they? The infectious tone was accompanied by the sound of approaching footsteps. A quartet of men sliding into view in front of the stable, their heads all shaven bald, strange-looking insects (massive cockroaches) twitching on their shoulders. Lacking the normal marks of mercenaries, these men had the quiet, calm appearance of monk-assassins and moved in lock-step, their eyes vaguely glazed as the sounds of the commanding bugs controlled them.<br/><br/>Simultaneously, a chorus of croaking cicadas woke near Donovan and Aza. The songs they wove were three fold: sleep for the drowsy shadow, a spike of arousal for the thoughtful knight, and greed for the flighty Aza. Like a blanket, one layer of the song settled across Shadow-Aza’s ears, whispering for her to relax, to take her fill, to sate herself in shadows. For the Knight came images of Aza’s luscious body, hints of what she might do to him, if she’d been so good at working with his Shadow. And for Aza, hints of what baubles and trinkets might await around each corner, lurk within the nearby buildings – or, better yet, rest in the care of the men and women coming to detain and kill them. Why not murder and steal their way through the city, growing wealthy and neat as they went?<br/><br/>More of the bald men – another 3 – stepped into view near Aza and Donovan, their graceful steps enhanced by the glowing fire around the center-most one’s shoulders. This was a monk who had mastered fire and would, no doubt, wield it in his punches and kicks. There were no visible cockroaches on these, though the timbre and tone of the cicada song seemed to alter as they approached, potentially suggesting that there might be similar insects inside the mens’ robes.<br/><br/>None of these songs was perfect, of course; not divided so many ways. Yet this was surely a sign of true power: a mind split in dozens of directions, simultaneously spying and directing those within its control. Such was the power of the Eagle’s Talon.<br/>