[center][h3][color=228b22]Reagan Fletcher[/color][/h3][The City of Rothar - Streets][/center]
Reagan walked around the streets of Rothar, head low but eyes constantly roaming over the faces of the people that passed her. She managed to find herself in one of Rother's more unsavory neighbourhoods and if she weren't looking for a criminal herself, then she would have never even set foot in the street's direction. Alas, she had combed every inch of the neighbourhood she'd stayed in ([i]a decent neighbourhood with decent people who'd only attempted to pick a fight with her once[/i]) and she knew that she had to expand her reach. She would catch that Flatfoot, she swore that much to her family.

[color=ffff33]<I am certain you will capture her. We must simply bide our time.>[/color]

Reagan frowned, hearing Zaebor's words echo in her mind. The kind demon had always repeated the same mantra - that all Reagan had to do was to be patient - but with each passing day, her patience wavered. Rothar was a big kingdom and the Flatfoots were as sneaky as they came. Their ability to traverse ground undetected had been the reason why they were able to gather information about the rituals House Fletcher performed after all. Reagan hated it.

A cracking laughter that brought chills into the very core of her bones replaced the warm humming. [color=8b0000]<Bide our time? Zaebor, as always, your mind escapes you. While we sit around on our laurels, that filthy Flatfoot lass will be halfway across the continent.>[/color] Keadal's voice came like a whisper, lulling Reagan to sleep. She could almost see his pearly white canines in the recesses of her mind, but before she could begin to push Keadal back, he spoke again. [color=8b0000]<Now, now, child. Listen to my plan instead. Your powers of conjuration have grown and magic buzzes around Rothar like electricity in the air. Utilize that and you can conjure me and I will track down that Flatfoot for you.>[/color]

While Keadal spoke true, Reagan just laughed. When she received the odd glances of a few passerbys, she simply shot them a glare and continued on. She glanced around, noticing an establishment she'd been hearing about for quite some time now. [color=228b22]"Or we could simply be logical,"[/color] she muttered under her breath. The Magical Jobs Institute was known for their employment of all sorts of magic users for the completion of jobs should the coin be enough. Why she hadn't thought of utilizing their services before escaped Reagan, but she was there now and the Flatfoot would be under her charge soon enough.

[color=ffff33]<Might I remind you that we have run low on coin, my child.>[/color] Reagan paused after entering the institute. Zaebor was right. The amount of time she'd spent around Rothar looking for the Flatfoot had drained her resources dry and she couldn't bear to send a missive to her home for more, not with the war. With a muttered expletive under her breath, she looked around the institute. None of the adventurers inside would dare take on a job for little to no pay.

As she wandered around, a voice caught her attention. It was strange to have yet another voice reach into her mind and she was quick to look around for its source. With Zaebor's guidance, it wasn't hard. A small crowd gathered around a group of birds with Turkey vultures acting like the commanding officers. Still, it did not seem like the voice came from them. The voice was different, smarter not like the vultures that seemed to be more the brawn of the flock. Some adventurers were leaving the flock, uninterested with what they had to offer, but Reagan approached and squatted down to grab one of the scrolls the adventurers had tossed.

[color=ffff33]<Imbuing animals with magic? The audacity.>[/color]

[color=8b0000]<As much as it pains me, Zaebor speaks true. This is foolish.>[/color]

Reagan ignored the two demons and sought out the true owner of the voice. When she failed to find out exactly which of the birds it was, she simply spoke to them as a whole. [color=228b22]"I understand your plight."[/color] And she did, in a way. Somewhat like these birds, the Fletchers were once magicless.  They triumphed and captured magic that they made their own, and now they were more than successful. These birds had to know that magic could bring more than what some thought. [color=228b22]"While monetary reward does sound appealing, how about I employ your services instead? I will do all I can to help you find your magic and afterwards, you will help me find someone."[/color] She held out her hand, palm up, awaiting for the true leader of the flock to approach her.

[@Cuccoruler]