The man at the front of the room noted who was seated in which chair, and who he'd have to have a "conversation" with later.<strong>"Good evening,"</strong>the man said. His voice was rich, like chocolate, but with a quality that assured you it was an act for either your benefit or his own amusement. He didn't ordinarily sound like this.<strong>"My name is Adamantine and I am here to oversee this operation. You have all been tasked, either for your own abilities or because someone else thought it would be funny. Don't ask me which, I don't care. What is important is that some of our visionaries have evidence that the Seers will be making a move on the local sleeper population at Tattoo. Virginia International Tattoo, for those of you unaware. They seek to promote the lie we've been working our hardest to end and will do so at the matinee in front of over one thousand impressionable children who might otherwise awaken to the truth. Your mission, which you will accept and complete or die trying, or die not trying I don't care. A bullet in your head is no sweat off my back. You're free to do as you will. Keep me informed of your progress, my card is on the table in front of me. Any questions before I throw you to the wolves? And yes, there may be literal wolves."</strong>He sighs, as if anticipating someone asking him if he meant actual wolves. Perhaps he had some foresight to know it was about to happen, some magi have abilities in that vein, maybe he was a time mage or just cursed in that direction.<br/><br/>The two men behind him made no noise the entire time he was speaking. He had such authority, or perceived himself to have it at the very least. Anyone with mage sight up would do well not to look too carefully at him. The aura he puts off is no less than blinding. He has enchantments upon nearly all of his equipment, including a spatial anomaly at his hip and a barrier on his person beyond the ability of any you've met save possibly the hierarch.