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The young deputy stepped out the door,
The tune of the magician's anthem still echoing in her ears.
She had the jitters that came before
One's first real mission. But she was confident,
For gazelle magicians were rare in these parts;
She would not have been chosen if she was unworthy.
The hexagon-shaped badge showing her rank
In the Emperor's Imperial Guardians,
Glinted from her almost-gaudy tunic.
The form underneath was slim and fit,
Anything but beefy, as was standard for her race.
Her antlers, which looked faintly like antennae,
Stood proud, and her many-faceted eyes shone happily.
While ranging in temperament from demure to caustic to fatal,
She was thrilled to have her first assignment.
It behooved her to be on her way quickly,
So she ignited the spark of magic
That would send her to her first stop.
She uttered a phrase as incomprehensible
As the quadratic equation,
And with a quirk of her pinky,
The air ejected four pistol-quick lines of energy
That outlined a door through nonspace.
The jangling feel of the presence of magic
Increased manifold, then settled as she stepped through.
She navigated through the ether
To over a league from where she started.
The door let her out by a large rock outcrop,
Near the mason she was supposed to meet.
The mole was hewing skillfully at a stone block
When he noticed her arrival.
The block was then set aside, ready to be
Levered or levitated onto a wall somewhere.
His voice was slightly nasal as he greeted her,
And almost an octave higher than the normal mole range.
There was a hint of possible impending censure in his tone,
If he should find cause for it, which he didn't.
As he recounted to her a report of
The pack of humans ravaging the countryside,
The young magician privately rejoiced
At the thought of her first adventure.
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