Rising in the East

"Right, sure," you say, following Parting Sigh. She takes you through another alleyway and along the canal. "Are we just going in and waiting?"

"Hm," says Sigh. She leads the way over a bridge spanning the Canal, waiting as you pass by a group of cityfolk who barely seem to notice either of you, with what's going on. "Better to cut off escape. I'll hide inside. You wait outside, looking nonchalant, then follow them in. You can do nonchalant, right?"

"Uh... yeah," you say, speaking slowly. "Yes. I can do that." You think you're doing a decent job of keeping your agitation under wraps, at least.

Sigh frowns. "You doing alright, Nuri?"

Okay, maybe not. "Do you ever feel like... like you're just full of energy, and you just need to use it?"

"Yes," Sigh says. "You mean Essence fever? "

"Maybe," you say, optimism surging. "And then sometimes something happens and you can't do something, and it's like... almost like this pain in your chest? Like the sun. Like, the sun is just burning in your chest and it hurts that you can't help them! And you just need to hit something -- something that deserves it -- or you feel like you might explode?"

Sigh stares for a long, wide-eyed moment. Then she says: "No."

You squirm under her wary regard. "I have it under control."

"Just don't go all Anathema on me, alright?" She mutters. This has honestly been your goal all along, to mixed success.

"I have it under control," you say again. Sigh swallows her misgivings, and nods.

The building is raised above the water on pillars, the street continuing on past it in the form of a wooden walkway. It doesn't look like anything is hidden beneath it. Sigh doesn't hesitate before stepping down into a narrow ledge just barely wide enough for one person to walk under the building without falling into the water. "Just try not to stand out. They should be along soon."

Crossing your arms, you try and fail not to stare up at the smoke rising over the rooftops, or put too much thought toward the alarm bells ringing through the air. At the very least, this gives you such a good excuse for why you're standing here, leaning against a building, you almost don't register that they're in sight.

Four individuals approach you along the walkway. The clerk himself is a skinny, furtive looking man drawing a cloak around himself. It's very hard to pay him much attention, though. He walks between two tall jaguarfolk, a man and a woman almost the same height as one another. The beastfolk are human in shape, but covered in spotted fur head to foot, with feline ears and eyes, and mouths full of fangs. They're both wearing leather armour, heavy bronze axes hanging at their belts.

Next to them, the large man at the back of the group is almost as forgettable as the clerk. Powerfully built and dark-haired, he could have been from anywhere in the Scavenger Lands. And yet, as the group passes you, you can't deny a strange pang of... something. Recognition? It's too quick to tell. His eyes meet yours briefly, then slide off. You try not to watch them too closely as they pass you by, heading toward the place that Sigh had just disappeared into.

Once they're gone, you wait a few moments, trying not to vibrate with impatience. Then, finally, you follow, forcing yourself with real effort not to hurry. This is important, you remind yourself. Vital. So, you need to do it right.

You slip down into the narrow space yourself, calling up your wrackstaff even as your eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Sure enough, Sigh was right. Here in the recesses of what superficially might have resembled the place you'd met the Shoat earlier, you see several hidden jetties. You can imagine the uses this place is usually put to: mundane smuggling, perhaps. Just far enough out of sight that a bribed official can plausibly claim not to know about it if it's ever a problem.

You're standing on a narrow walkway, the water on one side, a foundation wall on the other, headed for the back wall, where a single boat is tied up in preparation for this. With whatever trouble is being caused elsewhere, very likely they would have been able to slip away unnoticed, too. The four people you'd followed stand near this boat, loading a few meagre belongings into it as a final preparation.

At the sound of your approaching footsteps, the jaguarfolk whirl around, snarling as their hands drop to their weapons.

"Wh-Who are you?" the clerk demands, shrinking back.

You advance along the walkway, ducking under a low beam overhead, your staff resting on one shoulder. "Someone who's going to stop a traitor from slinking off during a crisis." There's still no sign of Parting Sigh, but you suppose that's the point of being an elite, Dragon-Blooded assassin.

The jaguarwoman has seemingly heard enough, stalking forward. "Move on, girl," she says through a heavy Forest-Tongue accent. "You will not like what comes next."

Her partner, though, is frowning at you — at the staff in your hand, more to the point. "Jade," he growls, a warning that you aren't to be taken lightly. Seeing them wielding a weapon like Verdance at all is a sign that an opponent is more than mortal. Even if they're probably expecting something more in the neighbourhood of a stray god-blooded than anything on your level. The jaguarwoman nods, eying you with a little more respect as you both approach each other.

She charges you with mildly superhuman speed, axe raised. Fortunately, you're faster — you catch the axe on its descenting haft, wood reverberating off jadesteel. You shove her back hard before she can rake the claws of her offhand across your throat. Before you can do more than take another step forward, the jaguarman leaps over her, coming down at you with a skull-cleaving blow. You've only just fended him off before she's on you again. Even together, they don't hold a candle to Maw Lurking Argument or Parting Sigh, but their strength, agility and coordination means they're not instantly trivial for you.

Speaking of Sigh, you finally catch sigh of her as she slips out of the shadows, one sword drawn to remove the final mercenary from the equation. Her turns to meet her, a knife in his hand to parry the deathblow, clearly taking her by surprise.

The jaguarwoman is growing increasingly frustrated at her inability to so much as touch you, even as she becomes increasingly bruised and battered. Her partner keeps trying to let her take the brunt of your attention before coming at you from an unexpecting angle. Beyond them, Sigh is continuing to have a surprising amount of trouble with her own opponent — certainly more than either of you expected. The man with the knife has forced her to draw her second sword, and is dodging away from her attacks with a sort of liquid grace. The clerk meanwhile, is in a complete panic, darting for the boat. As much as you doubt he'll get far with only his own noodly arms working the oars, that's not really acceptable.

With a huff of general annoyance, you train your attention on all three of your opponents. The world seems to freeze in place for just an instant, your eyes charting a course between all of them. Then you burst back into motion, staff whirling through the air and trailing flower petals as you strike the three mercenaries so quickly in succession that it would have been impossible for anyone else to tell who was hit first. Your Caste Mark flares to life as bodies go flying in all different directions — one jaguarfolk hits the back wall, the other splashes into the water.

Sigh's opponent managed to twist around in midair, coming down on his feet. "Ow," he says, feeling his jaw. The clerk, finding you between him and the boat, stumbles back in a panic, hiding behind his last remaining protector. You and Sigh are too busy staring to make a grab for him:

A No Moon Caste Mark has appeared on the third mercenary's brow, just as moonsilver tattoos begin to seep up out of his skin, dot by glowing dot. The shadow at his feet, cast by the light of the Caste Mark, very clearly shows spider legs curling out from his distorted form. They seem to be twitching and moving unnaturally.

"Oh, Dragons," Sigh groans, staring in some horror, realising who she'd been fighting all along. When Jasmine's eyes flick to her, she flinches.

"Stout companions you've thrown yourself in with," Jasmine says, through this shape's deep voice. The way she says it annoys you.

"She is!" you say hotly. "Sigh's plenty brave. Even if she is an assassin."

Sigh shoots you a look somewhere between gratitude and a strong desire for you to not draw Jasmine's attention to her. Jasmine laughs, and changes back to her true shape in a flash of silver. "One of these incarnations, maybe you won't be this self-righteous. I've sometimes found it endearing, when you aren't trying to beat me to death with a stick."

You glare at her, grip tightening on your staff. "That wasn't me," you tell her.

Jasmine's eyebrows shoot up. "It wasn't you trying to beat me with a stick, then? I recall differently." At your frustrated look, she sighs. "Oh, calm down — I know what you meant."

"What's going on?" the clerk demands, looking up at Jasmine in panic. "You promised you'd take me out of here!"

"Oh, don't have a panic attack, Falling Leaf. You still have the... special potion I gave you?" Jasmine asks.

"I... I do," Falling Leaf says, digging in his pocket for something — presumably a bottle.

"We won't just let you take him!" you say.

"Won't you?" Jasmine smiles again, although it has a bit of a brittle quality, to your eyes. She's looking at you with deeply mixed emotions warring behind her eyes. For you, looking at her is just conjuring up a powerful resentment from deep in your heart, stronger than you're used to feeling for anyone. Is that the Bond that Pause told you about, or just anger at all she's done? She begins talking again, distracting you from this question. "You're right and you're wrong, by the way. It's true that you're not Cal, or Jochim, or any of the others. But you also... are. Some don't believe that specific Exaltations seek out similar souls through the ages. I've known enough of you to think otherwise."

You balk at the accusation that you're anything like Jochim, but fight down the urge to argue. There's no time, and Leaf has produced a small vial of dark liquid. You have no idea what she could be asking him to drink — poison, to keep him from giving her secrets away? Some magic concoction that will help him escape, somehow? — but you know that you can't afford to find out the hard way. Jasmine is trying to stall you, you realise.

Maybe two can play at that — you're aware of Sigh, but you're not sure how much attention Jasmine is paying her anymore. You assume that the two of you are on the same page about that bottle, and you've seen how quietly Sigh can move. Maybe quietly enough to fool Lunar senses, if you're keeping Jasmine busy enough. Sigh would be able to slip in and take the bottle from Leaf before he can drink it. Or Jasmine notices, and it's a fight after all — maybe it's better to just turn it into one and get it over with, the way a large part of you wants to.

Article:

What do you do?

[ ] Try to talk Jasmine down
[ ] Rush Jasmine, grab the potion from Leaf
[ ] Keep Jasmine Talking long enough for Sigh to take the potion
- [ ] ... about what's going on at the waterfront
- [ ] ... about Cal and what happened
- [ ] ... about what she's digging up in the Underworld
- [ ] ... about the Four Winds Throne and the Defence Grid