Gachety "the Machete" Rhozas
Did his nickname precede him? He's actually a nice guy! His friends call him Chet, and if you meet in the right situation, you're kindly welcome to do the same. If he has to run into you under less neighborly circumstances, well, you'll probably learn about that other name.
Chet Rhozas, at 55 years of age, is one of the more senior battlemages still seen in daily life around Marn. It's not that he's old for a battlemage, it's just that the guys who have been in the business longer don't really get out a whole lot. He seems to have held up remarkably well in what is known to be a very stressful career--he's not at all twitchy or impersonal like many of those other mages turned out. In fact, he's currently mentoring two of the younger recruits, who could use a little supervision.
Chet's gotten portly with age, and mostly gray except a bit of ashy brown here and there. The shape he's in is fine for what he does, since he only need to make a few swipes with his hands to control the invisible, slashing blades of air he projects. If more people knew about the other talent he wields, he'd probably be called "the Scalpel," but then, that wouldn't rhyme anyway.
Chet is stable enough to hold together a family in the city. He has a wife, Rury, and three daughters, Ombrow, Lang, and little Prie. They're well taken care of, and they know better than to ask too many questions about pop's job.
Nobody can seem to remember when exactly it was that the Broads disappeared, but it was probably right around the time they started boasting about how raising the elf as their own was part of a careful experiment. And nobody can say, either, that it wasn't the intent of that experiment to cook all those horses . . . from the inside-out . . .
Tatha can't say for sure how old he is, but he's still pretty awkward in his own skin, and can't be far past adolescence. He was raised by Mr. and Mrs. Broad, a human couple, and can't remember any parents before them. Theoretically, it would seem an elfchild with such obvious magical aptitude as that which he displayed from a young age would benefit from some sturdy human rearing: no convoluted Elvish ethical constructs to complicate the matter of sound justice.
Tatha manipulates states of matter. Most of what he does could be achieved in a lab through very basic chemistry, but some tricks, like pulling drops of liquid nitrogen out of thin air, can be a bit taxing. It's when he gets tired that his judgment goes off.
Chet feels the elf could do with more fatherly mentoring and a bit of bookreading before he turns any more solids into plasmas.
The best act at the carnival was the juggler. Everyone was sure he was using magic when he had a dozen eggs going at once, and then one of them turned into my aunt . . . blue . . . fondant . . . mulligan . . . waxball . . . buckwheat-codswallop . . .
His full name is Lemboysas Arwaite, but his family disowned him when he was recruited into the battlemages. He's a pale, slight young man, who's never gotten along well with others. It's a good thing he found himself on the proper side of the law, because he'd always seemed obsessed with punishing those who were using magic they weren't supposed to be using.
Lemboysas brings about dementia. It should usually be temporary. Typically, his targets are reduced to babbling nonsense for a few hours. Many of them are afflicted with synesthesia, which helps mitigate the reliability of their recollections. Chet is trying to convince him of the importance of proper aim.
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