It was time for action.<br/><br/>Leaving the crisp, midnight blue car behind at the dingy curb, the three men stoically approached the alleyway. All three exuded the presence of power but the one at the forefront of the trio gave off a sinister appearance of danger. A mountain of a man, towering and wide, the crisp, black on black suit he wore gave his shoulders and hips a sharpness that accentuated the aura of threat that surrounded him. On his lapel, a triangular sigil was pinned, signifying his allegiance to the Hermetic Society, his place as an agent of the cabal of thaumaturges. The silver and tanzanite ring on his left hand identified him as a very powerful mage.<br/><br/>As an agent of the HS, Holmgren was bound by pledges and tokens of allegiance, to keep the order of the Hermetics intact. Magic in the modern world was still kept a secret and there were rules for its use and practice. Without those rules in place, chaos would be the norm and the sorcerers of the world would be exposed to the Tenders, humans with no gift or skill in magic. They'd teetered on the brink of that edge multiple times over the hundreds of thousands of years but every time wizardry was exposed to the Tenders, no matter how small the community of them, they always sought to kill those with "strange" powers.<br/><br/>Holmgren was an avid supporter of control, of rules to magic. It kept the thaumaturges safe and it elevated the power from some wild, untamed birth defect, to an actual art. Any imbalances, any off brand or taboo practices should be hunted down, uprooted, and snuffed out, completely. The scales needed to be balanced.<br/><br/>It was why they were drawn now to this ugly, filthy alleyway, led here by the HS magic sensors to an illicit use of magic. It'd started with reports, strange and alarming to the frail-minded Tenders, signs of untrained use of power being unleashed in unauthorized ways, threatening the exposure of magic. Once they established a pattern, they were able to pinpoint a source and eventually a location.<br/><br/>Cladius pulled from his jacket a smooth, slender, HS issued elmwood wand, pointing it at the sky. A pinpoint of light glowed at the tip, unleashing an approved weather spell, drawing the overcast clouds into a darker gloom. Taking out his own HS issued elmwood wand, Holmgren held it aloft, the glow on the tip pulsing as they neared the figure of a young woman in the open space behind the restaurant where the dumpsters were kept. As rain began to drop in dainty fingers upon his shoulders, Holmgren sneered at the predictability of such a situation. Of course they would find her here, living in filth and eating trash. This was what chaos and untrained magic looked like. The absence of order was a dirty neophyte leeching off of two societies.<br/><br/>Distantly, the sounds of a delivery truck could be heard, just around the corner, the restaurant getting new fresh goods delivered at the back door. That wouldn't be a problem, though. Lorne was already taking out his elmwood wand and casting a spell to keep their activities shielded from the nearby Tenders.<br/><br/>Trying to keep his disgust shielded from his features, Holmgren started to approach the young woman as rain continued to fall. Regarding her with pale, silver-blue eyes, he spoke in a smooth, reverberating baritone, that sounded like it came from the depths of the rock and earth.<br/><br/>"You have been identified as a perpetrator of several thaumaturgic crimes and incidents," Holmgren said, his tone commanding and impersonally grave. "By order of the Hermetic Society, you have been ordered to cease your illicit practice of witchcraft and be taken into custody. You have been sought out to answer for what you have done."