The Commander pulls his helmet off, again, and the fire goes out once more when he does. With it tucked under his arm, he walks over to a charr who seems to be talking to three other soldiers about something important. He stops and stands at attention before getting to her, and when she notices him she finishes whatever she's saying then walks over to him.

    "Commander, good to see those grubby Inquest didn't eat you."

"They were trying to eat him," he says, hiking a thumb in Haruk's direction.

    She looks at Haruk and—does something with her face that is like raising an eyebrow but not quite. "And who's our new friend, then?"

"He's from across the Mists!" says Taimi excitedly from atop her golem. "A whole other world!"

    "Exciting," says the charr in a deadpan before turning to Haruk again. "General Almorra Soulkeeper," she says, saluting by straightening her back and thumping her chest with a fist, the other arm folded behind her back and her tail held close to her body. "A friend of the Commander's is a friend of the Pact. It's an honour to meet you."

Haruk mimics the gesture, folding his wings rather than manipulate his nonexistent tail. "And the Pact has been very welcoming so far. Much more so than the Inquest. Uh, I did end up letting them go, sorry about that, it was that or they all got very unpleasantly destroyed with their secret base. ...I guess I could've tried to catch them on their way out but I didn't actually know that there were going to be people to hand them over to."

    She snorts. "Well, we don't really have a whole lot to do with them, here, they're Rata Sum jurisdication and prisoner transportation is not our main priority right now. But that seems like an interesting adventure, Commander, do you want to tell me all about it while your friends make Haruk comfortable here?"

"Of course, General." And with a wave the both of them go into one of the bigger metal tents over there for a proper war report.

"I do not envy his job," says Braham with a small smile. "Man's busy all the time."

"Pretty sure he likes it that way." He looks at Haruk, then. "Don't think we have any protocol for what to do when a helpful alien arrives. Or much protocol for anything, really, we're still scrambling after Mordremoth's attack and trying to find all of the crash survivors."

"...If there's anyone who you really need found as soon as possible, I can try to scry them. It takes an hour and it's not a guarantee, people can resist it, but - if someone's needed in a hurry."

"Wait, whoa, scry as in—you can find—"

"That'd be everyone. But we have some priorities. How much of it can you do? This is worth interrupting the Commander and the General for."

"I've got eight fourth-circle slots per day, but it's an hour each person."

"Can you do eight hours of it, then? The captains of each ship would be our best bets."

"...yeah, alright. Eight hours of scrying, my favorite." He sighs. "It's easiest if I have a detailed description and a personal possession for each person to be scried. Plus a reflective surface, but I've got a mirror for it."

He sticks his entire arm into his satchel, despite this being impossible, and pulls out a mirror only slightly larger than the mouth of the bag.

They're used to mesmer bags, it's not that surprising.

Rytlock leads them to the same place the Commander and the General went to, and he clears his throat, which clearly annoys the General.

    "Brimstone, what—"

"This man here says he can find people. As in, scry for them. Once per hour, eight hours a day."

    "—Commander I'm afraid I don't need your report that badly," she continues, turning to Haruk and beckoning him in.

James laughs and shakes his head. "It's fine. Finding people will be—wonderful."

"I'm glad."

Haruk so prefers when scrying is not his comparative advantage. This is going to be Not Fun.

"How costly is it?" wonders James, being at all capable of interpreting facial expressions.

"...I'm not going to complain, it looks like no one here is doing what they'd prefer. Some people find scrying meditative. I've... never been able to find the right state of mind. It's an hour of sitting in place, feeding an extremely precise amount of energy into a mirror and not being able to do anything more energetic than light conversation. Or in this case, eight hours of that. And it burns slots, so if someone attacks later I'll suffer for it. But you need these people found. So."

"...we are not so pressed for time that we—"

    "Yes, we are," says the General. "I'm sorry, I understand you are not under my chain of command so I have no claim to ordering you, but this would save us multiple days of search and rescue through areas of the Maguuma Jungle that no one has explored before, so I'm asking."

"I know. Tell me who to scry, if possible give me a possession of theirs, and I'll get on it."

They can start with the Pact Marshall Trahearne, and they're sure they can scrounge up something of his. A quick waypoint trip to the Grove and a frantic chat away has an old knife of his handed to Haruk.

Haruk holds the knife in one hand, sets the mirror before him, and begins the scry.

"Alright. I can talk throughout the process, but I do have to maintain concentration."

"Oh oh oh can I set up my scrying equipment while you do it?"

"Sure. Uh - out of my view, though, I shouldn't be looking at it too closely."

"Roger that!" she says, turning her golem around and driving it to fetch some other people to help her bring some equipment there. Behind him, out of sight.

Haruk keeps scrying quietly for about five more seconds, then says "So - should I call you James, or Commander Orland, or sir, or -"