[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

If there was anything Erenthril could say about Chelseanna, it was that the small port city contained the oddest, wildest bunch of authorities he’d seen contrasting one another since the day he’d walked pass the odd travelling Arakmat festival caravan ran by a handless Cether. Studying each of the prominent figures with a scrutinizing eye, the Elf place their positions and titles together given the various items and equipment they wore. The albino must have been the head maestro at the conservatorio or some other fancy musical academy Erenthril was unsure of. The young, olive-toned man was obviously someone of importance from the fencing academy. But what Erenthril could not place, unfortunately, was the woman. He had no idea whom she was, what powers she held, and better yet, just what her role in this whole scheme of things happened to be.

Erenthril’s gaze floated back to the Podesta when the man began speaking.

And the news could not have been more terrible.

A hurricane of devastating proportions moving at incredible speed. Great. The Elf smiled ruefully at this turn of luck. Turning to one of the native Chelseannans beside him, picking them out from the stunned dumbfounded tourists, he reached over and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder to ask and make his voice heard, “What do the seals do?”

Waiting until he had achieved such information, or been slapped in the face for such an impudent question – both of which seemed likely in this oddball turn of events – the Elementalist debated his options. He had several:

One, and the most obvious, was to assist in the evacuation. But that depended on just what the seals did, and how much time he had. His talents were quite different from the rest of the individuals around him, that was certain, but the Elf didn’t have the slightest idea of what to tell Miss Kalpas, and whether or not it was wise to reveal himself.

Two, he could tackle the hurricane directly. Change the direction of the storm, perhaps, so that it brushes around the island. Maybe tamper with the underwater currents to stall its progress. Summoning a hurricane was a journeyman spell, pushing its direction out of the way? It seemed doable, though again, Eren would need to know what the seals did and what role they played in this. They seemed vaguely important.

Three, he could save his own arse and head for the mainland by himself. The flight would take only a few short candlemarks given he’d have to circumvent the hurricane, but it was nice to know one always had a back up plan for escape. He would have to use this option before the monstrosity arrived though, lest the winds be too great for him to manage.

And…four. The Oracle. She had prophesized to him once before, and although her role here was rather distant – thirty eras ago was quite a long time – he was rather certain she could continue to play some part in this growing fiasco. The question was, was he up to seeing the poor child revert back to her howling self, and would she be willing to help him again?

Shaking his head, Erenthril realized his chief rival for the time being: time itself.

Gently pushing his way through the crowd, Erenthril found a secluded spot before quickly creating a cloud of hard air and gliding up towards The Kalendryan Observatory on the central tower. He would speak with these men and women, figure out what the storm’s location was, how powerful it seemed, how fast it was moving, and then base his ultimate decision with a more plethoric supply of knowledge.