The Larakaen liason to the I.M.T.U., the wizened and grizzled mortal Lu-Shalim, approaches and clears his throat. On his loose robe is a large polished bronze broach with the Heart and Lions of his state's seal. His crisp voice reads from a letter:
"In support of the Herwan government, we intend to send our Red Division, headed by the Illustrious Arwi-A, for military support. Her division is on stand-by to portal to a mustering point once one is established."
Arwi-A, the Illustrious Steel Titan, could not remember for the life of her where she left her other greave. Her servants and retainers scrambled about nervously, sensing the wriggling waves of frustration in her mighty aura. The armor wasn't necessary (more of a hindrance, truly, as it was softer than the steel legs it covered,) but maintaining appearances was important, especially when meeting new people. The titan let out a sigh, creaking and shuddering, like mighty grinding girders before slowly standing up from her plush kneeling cushion. The humans running about, the tallest coming up to just below the curve of her chest, paused. Immediately the message was understood from aura sense and familiarity; just bring it later, if you find it.
Beautiful weather; the flat gray expanse of sky released heavy, plodding drops that made Arwi-A's steel skin and bronze armor sing. The empty streets spared her any of her usual traffic woes, which surely would be made worse by the news of a far-off war and her rather large backpack. The space to let her True Aura show was a blessing, if even for just several minutes. She was the last to arrive to the plain, cubic portaling building, with its commandeered reception area holding the other six Immortals in her division. Each equipped in matching bronze sets of armor (and, sadly, all having their greaves,) with packs, ready to move.
A cacophonous mix of auras filled the small room, with apprehension having a plurality. The incessant ring of each warrior's ley crystals took minutes for even mighty Arwi-A to tune out of her consciousness. Even so, it lingered, a potent tension, raw potential, fuel crying out for a spark; and a fortune, in economic terms, to any Larakaen.