They ran,
Jane and Nate and the Scaled King and what was left of his retinue. The priestess's soldiers, led by Tytus hurried in pursuit. And this reminded Jane of a particular pain in her ass--or, more specifically, her feet. Her heeled sabatons. For some reason unbeknownst to her, the Redeemer's blacksmiths forged for her this peculiar set of sabatons that were not flat to the ground. Like every other paladin in the Redeemer's retinue. Jane had at first called them "stilted", but the Redeemer had informed her that the correct term was "heeled." He didn't bother to explain
why he or his blacksmiths or both in some collusion had decided to craft her sabatons in this fashion, however it was to be called. Jane had always assumed in the lack of a clearer and more proper answer that this was some sort of soft yet perpetual punishment for her foot fetish; it was the cheeky sort of thing the Redeemer would do and feel smirkingly self-satisfied about.
But Jane, on a level mostly subconscious, had decided: no, fuck that. I'm gonna wear these damn sabatons and I'm gonna wear the shit out of them and that mildly bothersome quality of them being heeled isn't going to conquer me. And so she stuck with it. Got used to it. Only times when they entered into her mind were times like now, involving copious amounts of running. Well. If anything, at least the heels were thick, solid metal (great for kicking the shit out of things too). Anything else and they probably would've snapped long ago.
Nate pushed aside two bystanders and Jane ran by them. Pity there wasn't more. A crowd to get lost in. The Scaled King had probably the most sound idea: bail on the city. The problem was actually getting out. It wasn't like her old coastal raids with the Sisters, just running back to the ship and sailing away--they were stuck squarely in the middle of this mess. Ugh, Nate was right, if only they had another
Portal Stone key, even just taken the one
Aivrid offered for future's sake. Curiosity was a bitch.
They made it to the crossroads of the intersecting alleys. And Nate made a choice. Good as any in Jane's opinion. The Scaled King would have to make his.
She turned after taking some quick breaths and followed after him. The buildings and general atmosphere of the city seemed to degrade as they went further in this direction. From the impressive to the not so much. The sort of locale that struck a chord of familiarity with Jane and her childhood of slavery, being housed in such structures only a few steps removed from outright ruin.
She ran, and commented wryly, "Reminds me...of home."
Then, more focused on the situation at hand, she looked to Nate at her side and said, "If we turn the right few corners...we can lose them. Catch our...breath..."
Nathanael McCallister Tytus Amladeris Tir'Coatl