[Suzerain of Sheol]

Sliding away from his perch, Shealtiel joins the crowd, pulling up his hood to blend in with the refugees. Secluded in the mass, he checks his MID again, trusting that the psychic radar signal will get lost in the myriad of other such psionic chatter that must be filling the city. Noting the presence he detected earlier, he heads toward it, though it is some ways away, yet.

He has put the others he noted out of his mind, for the moment. The theurgist is of middling ability alone, only notable for the rarity of her kind in the city currently. And he lost sight of the blind man from earlier.