[center][color=F0E68C][h2][sub][i]Sister Ezheia[/i][/sub][/h2][/color][/center]
[center][color=F0E68C][i]Armistice - East Gate - 500/500 HP[/i][/color][hr][/center]

	Ezheia followed the paths of Armistice's streets, the furs of her robe dancing with the wind. She could walk unchallenged in this space; the aura of a Decanus was a mighty thing for the commoners around her to behold. Especially so, that it should be Ezheia in particular: the "[i]Black Denacus[/i]," as some had taken to whispering. Ezheia's methods were not without their share of scalpel-precise brutality; all the better to keep dissidents in line and make her job easier. If anything, the lingering traces of the Cataclysm were the real threat to society, and a thief here or cutthroat there was a waste of her efforts. Better to let the Aspirants and Initiates deal with humanity's cesspool. No, Ezheia had much bigger things on her mind today.
	The Decanus reckoned she would miss the operational freedom of her rank, once she became a Venator. It wouldn't be long now, that she knew, and it had been hinted at by her superiors, although never mentioned directly. While the title was welcome, the rank also meant she would be at the Archon's beck and call; no longer could she pursue her own agendas. This venture was one of the last she'd make as Decanus, and she'd elected to see it through, with the last shreds of the autonomy she had. Doubtless, not many within the Order would approve. The Archon and most of the senior leadership had it in their minds that magical poisoning was an inevitable affliction. In nearly two thousand years, a cure had not been found, so that meant it was futile. Yet, Ezheia had witnessed more fellow Aspirants die to the affliction than she cared to recall. If her hunch proved correct, then this expedition could offer a glimmer of hope for the Order. In the off-chance that the poisoning could be negated, and with the opportunity to hunt Cataclysmic horrors across the world, Ezheia could put down two birds with one stone. 
	As Ezheia emerged from the corner of the marketplace, her eyes met the East Gate, and a throng of individuals that didn't look like they belonged in the same room. She recognized the armor of a God Eater, adorned by a giant of a man, and to her surprise, an Aspirant clad in the standard-issue robes of the Order. She'd never have thought to see another member here, with the stigma associated with the trip's purpose. She bit her lip as she approached the group. Would having another from the Order help or harm her work? The others gathered around were less noteworthy to the eye; probably folks with nothing to lose, who aimed to turn around their luck. For both her and their sake, Ezheia hoped they knew how to defend themselves.
	"Sister," Ezheia beckoned, nearing the Aspirant. "Why are you here?"