The black-clad elf reaches out and touches the wall of earth, taking a handful just to confirm it is no illusion. "They covered the door, but it's only a pile of dirt. We should be able to dig through." He tosses the handful aside and takes another, the other elves joining in.

It only takes a bit of work to pull away enough dirt to reach the door, and it becomes clear there's another pile on the other side. The elf spits, "Bah. Fine, go get your mage. We'll stick here and make sure they don't make a run for it soon as we walk away."


"Whichever clans we were before, we are all Night Runners now," Etain answers Jiro, looking to the other elves. She looks back to him and speaks in elven, "We want to see Raam become the first true elven city in an age. I'm not so sure your employer's kin would feel the same."

Griff folds his arms in front of him and closes his eyes, brow wrinkling in thought. "Missing psions? Some of our sensitives have gone missing as well. Only chalked it up to the city being the city." He drops his arms and looks to the east. "The missing ones not confirmed killed, were to the east."

The tavern being situated in the middle of the southwest part of the city, that would line up with the Psiumarkh's report of psions going missing to the south, just west of the noble district and east of the elven district, in the no-man's land between. It would be a far more chaotic place if not for the Peacebinders policing it.

The two elves that went inside carry out a clay cask of liquid, with a tap on the top and some stands on one side to set it on a table. Griff nods to it. "Your cask of waspwine. We will put it on your cart?"