Hard to tell, it's rather dark. Some sort of... room or tunnel or road, maybe. The walls, floor and ceiling are all stone, the latter rough and unworked, the former carved smooth. Faintly luminescent lichen crawls up the walls providing just enough light to make out vague details.

She lands in a crouch, the rift in nothingness sealing behind her.

She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes (the Rinnegan is thoroughly distracting) and tries to center herself enough to sense chakra. (She's been trying to master silent killing, after all). 

Can she feel anyone alive?

As far as chakra is concerned, this place is completely, utterly dead.

Interesting.

She opens her eyes again, places her hand on one wall, and starts walking forward. She'd ideally like to find somewhere defensible to rest - she's been fighting several days, now, and she is low on chakra without Naruto to continually top her off.

Absence of chakra or no, it's not long before she hears the sounds of battle, down the left of a T-intersection. Bestial screaming, metallic crashes, and the crackles and snap of stranger powers.

She's exhausted, but she's fought in worse circumstances, and this might be fun. And she might even acquire an ally, if she plays the big damn hero correctly.

She heads left.

There's a young woman facing a horde of monstrous humanoids. She's flanked by five ghostly figures. One looks very much like her and doesn't seem to be doing anything. Another wreathes her in a glowing shield, while the others toss various forms of destruction into the writhing mass. A sixth ghost rampages through the melee, like a malformed dog the size of a small car, knocking bodies aside with each swing of its arms.

Oh, fun!

She hasn't seen a technique exactly like that before - she wonders if it's like Kakuzu's stolen hearts, or Pein's puppeted bodies.

Still...

She doesn't need much chakra to throw a set of terrifyingly accurate kunai into the monsters, slamming through eyes into brains fast enough to cause little cracks like thunder.

And then with that opening she can chirp: "Get to the side!"

The blood and brain matter that spatters out is black and putrid.

She turns her head to look at the new arrival. "...Who the fuck are you?"

"Uchiha Hisame! I won't repeat myself, you know, and I'm not sure my aim with thrown lightning is going to handle going around you gracefully."

She gestures, and one of the ghosts at her side vanishes, replaced by another that begins throwing lightning into the horde. The beasts scream as their flesh is charred.

"I can handle my own lightning." She gestures again, and the lightning ghost swaps out for the previous one. "But in this case I prefer not to, as the smell of them cooking is the only thing worse than their natural odor." An errant current of air brings the stench back to them. It is, indeed, appallingly disgusting.

She laughs. "Very well. The slow way, then."

And she blurs, sprinting into the horde at speeds worthy of the fastest shinobi, drawing her sword and cutting a bloody swath through the creatures, deftly avoiding getting any actually on her, treating the walls and ceiling and floor and monsters alike as equally valid places to be running.

During the course of the battle, three basic types of monsters distinguish themselves. There are the basically human-sized ones that are most numerous, short, stocky ones that are slightly harder to kill, and the tall ones that move very quickly and seem to bend almost bonelessly. The monsters wear a mix of chain and plate armor, and are armed primarily with swords. A few carry shields, and some of the ones towards the back of the press have crossbows. Still, none of them are very intelligent. Between the two (or eight, depending how you count) of them, it doesn't take much longer before the pack of monsters are all dead.

Little bounce. (She's perfectly clean, still.)

Hisame turns to the stranger: "You're a good fighter."

"Mm." Her voice, now that it's quieter, has an odd quality to it. An echo, like it comes from more than one throat. She flicks her hand absently, and the lineup of ghosts changes. The shielder remains, as does the one that mimics her appearance. "As are you. Where did you come from?" That speed and strength are not natural, and there was mention of throwing lightning. Yet she senses no shard in this stranger, and sees no Tinker equipment. More evidence, as if it were needed, that she has traveled far indeed.

"From a rather unfortunately ended world. I fell between realities, and stepped out here. You're the first person I've met since. Do you know where this is?"

"Underground somewhere. This is not my home either."

"Interesting. I wonder if this labyrinth has its own end, or if I will need to start going straight up."

"None I have found in the past day. Many of these monsters, however, which seem to have a knack for interrupting whenever I begin making my own exit." She points up at the ceiling, which higher and rougher than in other areas.

"Well, if you can cover for me if more show up, I can open holes fairly quickly."

"Be about it, then. We are," she cocks her head toward one of the ghosts, as though listening. "One and one-quarter miles below the surface, at this point."

She smiles, backs off from her new friend, and points her sword up (it's an entirely unnecessary dramatic gesture, but Hisame doesn't know a single Uchiha who would ever pass up an opportunity for unnecessary drama). 

And lightning surges from her sword. It won't connect to the sky, not a mile and a quarter down, but it's going to blast through at least a few hundred feet.

It leaves her aching and sore - she'll be able to keep fighting a day yet, but it wouldn't be pleasant.

She smiles, almost despite herself.

Then turns, at a thumping rapidly approaching. "A big one," she murmurs.

It turns out to be two big ones, monstrous giants, fifteen feet tall and proportioned to match. Their roar when they see the two girls shakes loose rock from the roof.

It's just rock above them, no other floors to duck into, and she doubts the other woman will want to be carried while Hisame clings to the side of the wall - 

She blasts again, and again, and again, each cutting a bit more shallowly than the last, but all of them turning rock to a fine dust.

She calls out the larger ghost again, and it charges into one of the big monsters. They seem an even match for strength. The others she sets to the task of killing the unoccupied monster, which is not of inconsequential difficulty. It is stubbornly resilient, and continues its advance even as its flesh sags, melts, and vaporizes under the onslaught until it finally collapses, broken horns hitting the ground less than a yard from her feet. The other has by this time lost an arm and half a leg, but fights still, until the additional attention puts it to rest as well.

"Have you finished yet?"

"Yes; can you make your own way up?"

In answer to that, she swaps out the large ghost for one that surrounds her in a soft yellow nimbus and begins rising through the air, up the shaft.

She smiles and jumps to start running up the walls, bouncing to the other side of the rough tunnel when she meets an inconvenient bump - she's ahead of the other woman, but not running at full tilt.

Seeing that she won't need to lift her, she speeds up, making it to the top in a leisurely fifteen seconds. She sets down on the- mountainside, apparently, at the surface. It's late afternoon. To the south, a sea glitters in the rays. The land is rocky and jagged, meeting the shore in a line of uneven cliffs.

"This place is pretty," she says, looking out over the sea. Then, with a grin, she looks back to the other woman. "I don't think you ever introduced yourself, you know."

"We are the Keres," she says in her chorus. "Harvesters of the slain."

"Fun! I haven't picked up any fancy titles yet. That I know of. They probably used to call me something uninspired back home. I swear, there's fifty different 'Demon of So-and-So' running around... Perhaps I should select something to introduce myself by, now that I'm going new places."

"We find a cultivated reputation is useful in winnowing out those not worth our time," she says.

"Definitely - though my name was enough of a reputation, last world."

"It seems we both must rebuild. And an opportunity to do so presents itself." She points to the east, where a party of twenty or so can be seen making its way over to their position.

"Let one or two go to spread the word, shall we?"

"That is most effective." She changes her lineup of ghosts once again and a creeping darkness begins spreading from one of them, carrying with it an aura of dread.

As the party gets closer, it becomes apparent they are lead by the three in front, a dark-haired man and two shorter, blond men. One of the blonds unlimbers the massive crossbow from his back and says something indistinct to the others. The tall one barks a laugh and flips the staff he carries into a fighting position. The crystal at the top begins glowing. The remaining member of the leadership falls back, angrily gesturing at the other party members, who hurriedly get their own weapons ready.

She tries to catch the gaze of one of the lead three - she's no Itachi, but even at this distance Hisame can drive someone into the Tsukiyomi. And most minds break so easily.

Whoever she catches is going to collapse, screaming or silently - hopefully screaming.

(She's expecting to catch the one with the crystal, or else the one gesturing to the others.)

She gets Staff, and he falls down screaming. "Hawke!" Crossbow shouts and fires a hail of bolts-

-which halt in midair as one of the ghosts holds its hands up, then reverse themselves to rain down among the company. At the same time, two ghosts charge in to engage at close range. One has a massive sword with a cannon attached, the other simply uses its fists but is no less effective for that.

She pulls a out a dagger - it's not the best design for stabbing, but it creates a musical whistle when she swings it, which combined with a wonderful little trick she learned in Hidden Sound...

She darts forward, and starts to dance among the crowd, a sound like a mad flute building around her, casting phantasms dancing about her and among the people - that overlay allies and fade like mist when swung through.

Fear and panic spread rapidly amongst the enemy, helped along by random blazes of fire and the way the ground seems to be coming alive to fight against them as well.

There is one man who seems mostly immune to the panic, with a scruffy beard and ragged ponytail. He also seems able to counter the illusions and seize control of the flames.

Not her usual type, but he seems more fun than these others at least.

She closes with him, drawing her short sword.

He pushes her back with a shock of concussive force and a blast of ice reaches up to freeze her in place.

Delightful!

She switches places with him.

His eyes begin glowing, and he growls in fashion best described as demonic. Cracks of light spiderweb across his body as though he's coming apart.

She rushes him, sword sheathed in lightning.

He bats it aside as though it's nothing more than a stick. His strikes are magically enhanced in speed and strength.

She laughs.

"You're good!"

And black fire lances for him.

"You are dead!"

The man bursts into a different sort of fire, shimmering pale green, that the black slides off of.

Very powerful indeed.

Can she drain his chakra with her Rinnegan? (She's hoping to disrupt him long enough to touch him, at least.)

He's not using chakra, so no, she can't drain it. But he's not trying especially hard not to get hit.

Well, this is a bit of a gamble...

She lunges for him, grabs an exposed bit of skin, and tries to yank.

This should drag his soul out of his body, giving her the information he knows, but she's only ever seen it used, so.

(She also tries to channel lightning through him. No kill like overkill.)

The soul she grabs is not entirely human. She gets flashes of a hard childhood, big dogs sleeping together for warmth-

-certainty, the knowledge of balance, of fairness, of justice-

-the men in the armor, the tower, the fear, the magic-

-when something is wrong, it cannot stand it must be put right-

-the escape, the templars hunting him, the keep by the shore, the Warden who saved him, who gave him a place and a purpose-

-a tear in the Veil, a man betrayed, the sure and certain course that becomes fraught with unexpected nuance-

There is a partnership, an alliance of convenience and necessity. It becomes something more, and when one vessel fails, he offers himself. Where there were two, now there is one. Justice warped by desire becomes Vengeance, and that is the purpose that overrides all other concerns.

That is... Disorienting, and not something she thinks she will use except in extreme circumstances.

Still, she knows something of this world now.

Is he actually properly dead?

Looks like. So are most of the rest of the group.

Well, time to go thoroughly terrify someone to let run off (and she won't kill the collapsed person with the staff; let him wake to a field of his dead friends).

The shouty short blond (a dwarf, her stolen knowledge supplies, named Bartrand, sponsor of this little expedition to the Deep Roads. Anders didn't want to go back to the Deep Roads, but he had the map and Hawke is so very persuasive.) is still alive, as some of the hirelings.

The dwarf can likely spread the news farther.

She dashes for him, aiming to knock him over and shove her sword through his shoulder.

He's not hard to knock over. (A merchant, soft, no good in a fight no matter how vicious the Kirkwall Merchants' Guild meetings are.)

The Keres appears at her shoulder in a swirl of dust. "This is the one, then?"

"Yes. Seems he was the sponsor. I'll leave the one with the staff alive, too, assuming he's still breathing."

"I believe he is, yes." There are brief, cut-off screams as her ghosts finish off the other wounded.

The dwarf flinches.

She kneels over him, smiling. 

"Anders was hesitant over this, wasn't he?" she teases. "He knew it was unsafe, but you - oh you insisted. Still, you're the one alive now, and Anders is dead."

"You- you're crazy," he stammers. "We didn't do nothing to you-"

"And your brother," the Keres whispers. "Finally made a mess he couldn't clean up."

The dwarf starts crying.

"Are you really going to break so quickly? Pity."

She twists her sword.

Pained whimper.

"What do- what do you want, dammit."

"Fame, fortune, fun... More the last. This was terribly entertaining."

"I don't even know your name..."

"I am Hisame, handmaiden of Death." 

"And we are the Keres, harvesters of the slain. Run back to your city, little man. When next we see you, it will be your death."

She steps back, pulling out her sword and flicking the blood off.

The Keres gestures, and a kiss of flame seals his wound. Then an unseen hand picks him up and flings him back in the direction whence he came.

She laughs. "He seems like the type to tell stories, at least."

"Quite. What did you do to that one?" She indicates the fallen man with the staff.

"Torture illusion! I need eye contact, but it's quite fun to inflict and very unpleasant to experience."

"How long does it last?" she asks curiously.

"Three seconds, which he experienced as three days, but most people don't recover mentally very quickly at all. I'm not talented at it - my sister once put me in a coma for a month with that same technique - so he'll probably wake up before he dies of exposure."

"Is it customizable?"

"Yes. Though I can't hook it into someone's individual fears and traumas if I don't already know those. But it would be useful for communication, or purely mental training. It doesn't have to be torture - that's merely traditional."

"Interesting."

"It is! I hope I'll have a chance to get better at it, over time."

"The nearest city is where these came from. It is, if I understand correctly, rather squalid. There will be no shortage of victims."

"You know, I've never gotten the opportunity to go after a city before. Should be fun. Should we start with stalking the streets, slowly building fear... Or something more dramatic?"

"I've done it both ways. The trick to either approach is to first remove any threats that might actually be dangerous before beginning the game in earnest."

"I would like to leave at least one challenge for later - preferably someone intelligent. Though I can acknowledge that's not the safest when playing a new game."

Hisame possibly has the exact opposite of a self preservation instinct.

"It depends on the caliber of opponent. This world seems to have its own magic, and I have not yet determined its rules."

"I know some of them, or at least what that Anders knew."

"Perhaps we could acquire another subject for interrogation."

"Perhaps. Maybe another magic user, though I'd rather avoid the technique I used on Anders again. It's... Disorienting."

"How so?"

"I've only tried it the once, but I apparently get my target's memories all jumbled together. I rather prefer my brain belonging only to authorized users."

"Understandable. Shall we move on? I see the carrion birds are beginning to wheel overhead. We inhibit the start of their feast."

She laughs a little. "Wouldn't want that. To the city, then?"

"That is the obvious destination." She begins walking, her ghosts trailing after obediently.

Hisame walks along. "Are we planning a closer alliance than simply escaping those tunnels together?"

"I appreciate your displayed skill and you are so far not intolerable company. Certainly better than the last group I worked with."

She smiles. "I like your style and your skills. And good allies are dreadfully hard to come by."

"As long as our goals align, then."

"I'd prefer an amicable parting if they cease to align, as well. I do not much like fighting allies, even lapsed ones."

"Well enough."

"How far is this city?"

"Ten miles or so."

That is so near and she could cross it so quickly and it's been five years since she had to walk somewhere.

She hums, bouncing a bit. 

Still, walking probably is sensible given how tired she is...

Best to arrive under cover of darkness. Besides, it would be somewhat awkward to follow directly on the heels of that dwarf.

"What is your world like?"

"Greener than here, at least where I lived. It was a very beautiful world."

"The type of magic user I am - shinobi - organized themselves by clans of related individuals, who were traditionally mercenaries, and the clans a few decades ago joined into Hidden Villages - a sort of mercenary guild. Unfortunately, they developed a dreadful number of rules over the years. Told me to be a good little soldier and not get any of my icky emotions anywhere, and of course kill whoever they pointed me at and no one else."

"How terribly restrictive. Where I come from, no one is supposed to kill at all."

"How dreadfully boring of them. Though I had a good friend who was trying to make our world more peaceful; perhaps he could've made something interesting of that."

"People with powers had only been appearing for thirty years or so. The world was still adapting. Some parts of it were more lawless, if someone strong decided to stake their claim."

"How strange. We've had magic a thousand years, though it's been rather destabilizing, all told."

"That is quite a long time."

"I suppose so! I hear we had an Empire for a while, but it fell when it ran out of heirs, some centuries ago."

"In my own life - I didn't agree at all with a soldierly life, and left, though they quite unfairly declared me a traitor for it. Still, I'd slipped out with enough stealth they lost my trail for a time, and I was able to go to someone who had offered me shelter and a promise of training. I would not name him an ally - I could have, he was certainly imaginative enough, but he had no respect for loyalty, and betrayed me first. I left him dead, gathered a small group of my own, and went to find my sister, who had left our home when I was a child after a rather impressive massacre."

"Events conspired, here and there, and some idiot decided to resurrect a god - or a being close enough to divinity - that'd been sealed at the beginning of magic. That drama rendered my universe rather uninhabitable, assuming it still exists at all."

"What of you? What of your world? And you mentioned a rather - I supposed uninspired group?"

"I was raised by a small-minded woman with the ability to call lightning and a consuming fascination for herself almost to the exclusion of everything else. Killing her was the first thing I did when I gained my power, and it was then that I learned I could take the powers of those who die near me and put them to use. I set out to enlarge my collection. People with powers called themselves 'heroes' and 'villains' and acted out those roles as though playing a game, without taking it seriously. I did take things seriously, and so they sought to remove me, to preserve their game. A man named Jack Slash approached me, to recruit me into his group, the Slaughterhouse Nine. He also wished to upset the order of things and so I went along for a time, until it became clear that he was playing a game of his own, and did not intend to allow me to gain more power than he could handle. We quarreled, and I left on poor terms. Later, I returned to kill him. That was the second most satisfying death I have participated in."

"How unimaginative of them all. Systems are for breaking; and why should you handle an ally?"

"He was, it turned out, more useful to me dead than alive. Perhaps he had an inkling of this. But I have no wish to ruminate overlong on his particular psychology."

"Entirely reasonable."

"In any case, following his death, I decided that I was finished with playing any sort of game, and proceeded directly to the end. The reason powers only started appearing in the world thirty years ago is that we were visited by alien entities of nearly incomprehensible power who would gift small pieces of themselves to us, in order to see what we would do with them. There were two entities, but through a string of poor fortune, one was killed upon its arrival, and without it, the other wandered lost. I approached him with the offer of using my power to replace his companion. We were in the process of gathering her scattered shards when I found myself suddenly in this world. It was not treachery on his part, for he does not understand the concept. I suspect the work of an agency entirely foreign, for he has not found me nor am I able to return myself."

"Interesting. I know how I got here - I fell between realities and stepped out - but I don't know what else could have moved you."

"The multiverse is deep and wide. Determining the reasons for my traversal may be a long-term project."

"Hopefully an enjoyable one. Once I've rested, I might even be able to duplicate the trick that got me here."

"If it can be targeted, that would be useful."

"Haven't tried that yet!"

"A risky experiment, if not."

"Well, I survived the first time, and if I'm rested I should be able to manage quite a few types of hostile environment..."

"Can you take passengers?"

"I haven't tried. The woman I was copying could both open portals and simply move herself and others, like a teleport."

"Mm. I do not have any means of dimensional transit, myself."

"I suspect I'll have an easier time with portals, at least, but I'm not planning on stranding you somewhere unpleasant, even if figuring out transit takes a while."

"Speaking of unpleasant places..."

The city comes into view before them. It is built on cliffs, a rough half circle encompassing a jagged cut in by the sea. Even from this distance, it is clear that the lower tiers of the city are much less pleasant than the higher. A palace caps the northeastern edge. A quarter of the circular walls around is what looks to be the main gate, with a road stretching broad to the north before curving west. In the southwest, a fortress guards the coastal entrance. The outer walls are interrupted at intervals by carved figures with bowed heads, stretching up almost their full height.

"How quaint."

"I suppose we're sneaking in?"

"Unless you have a sorely pressing wish to do otherwise."

She laughs. "Not particularly."

"Stealth, then." She contemplates the city for a moment, then points at a particular section of wall. "Crossing there affords us the best chance of success."

She examines the city. "That's my analysis, too. I can go through the wall, probably, or almost certainly under it."

"I can get us through wall. And veil our passage from the sentries."

"Oh, good. A very useful skill."

"One of many I possess. Stay close." One of the ghosts spreads something like a net over the two of them. The colors of the world outside become faded, washed-out, and the two of them within the net's confines look brighter to their own eyes, more vibrant.

Fascinating.

She looks around with interest.

"Do I need to stay silent for this?"

"If this power were working alone, yes. But I have compensated for that shortcoming." She gestures for them to begin walking. They'll need to stay within arm's reach of each other.

Hisame stays close enough, humming.

She brings them right up to the base of the wall. The carved figures, on closer inspection, have chains around wrists, ankles, and necks.

She conjures a ghost that raises its arms and presses its hands to the wall. A black doorway opens between them, and it steps away.

"Through here."

They have strange taste in architecture.

She steps through.

It only takes a single step, and they're on the other side of the wall. The alley they find themselves is littered with rubbish, with weeds both brown and green tangling through the cracks of the cobblestones and a pair of rats gnawing on a dead pigeon.

"Maybe we can inspire them to start a public cleanup while we're terrorizing them," she says, wrinkling her nose.

"One hopes they will at least have sewers."

"If they don't, I suggest torching the place."

"I," she says firmly, "quite agree. Let us see if the main street is better maintained." To their left is a gap between estates, and beyond, the street. It is, thankfully, clear of trash and dead animals.

An improvement, at least. She examines the people she can see, trying to find if she can glean anything about them.

There aren't that many still on the streets, with the sun's last light a fading memory. Those that are still out are walking quickly, finding their homes and locking the doors after. Some wear fine clothing, well-tailored and extravagantly dyed. Others have less extravagant clothing, but no one visible is shabby.

A nicer neighborhood, perhaps. She's certainly not dressed like a local, still wearing her sword at her hip, her loose-wrapped white top and flaring black pants - certainly nice enough fabric, but practical, not fancy.

None of these people look particularly powerful; they'll have to widen their search, for whoever seems likely able to mount a resistance.

Still...

"What are we planning on doing for tonight?" she asks her new friend. "I haven't slept in a few days already, and don't particularly mind a rooftop, but still..." She's injured and low on chakra enough she can't reasonably keep skipping sleep.

"Some of these houses look nice. I was thinking we might take one."

She smiles. "That'd be quite fun. Though I don't go for kids; they're of no real interest to me. Still, this place doesn't seem to be crawling with them."

"Mm. Three doors down. A father and two grown sons. The mother... dead, not six months ago."

"Oh, that's quite a good target, and a very nice power."

"Do you prefer to be involved in the taking, or merely the aftermath?"

"Both, if you don't mind."

"All right. Take the back, find the kitchen entrance. There should be one servant. I'll give you five minutes, then herd the family that way."

"Will do."

And she's less noticeable, somehow, perceivable but like something you've seen a thousand times before. 

She glides off, perfectly silent, towards the back.

She focuses on her Rinnegan, removing the technique she'd had hiding its distinctive appearance, revealing a world awash with color to her. Where are the people, and how many, and how healthy? Is the kitchen entrance obvious - not that she's one for doors.

The house has two floors aboveground, and one below. Three males, two in the middle the first floor and one towards the front on the second, none with any detectable chakra. The younger two are relatively fit, the older has let himself go. One female, in the back of the first floor, probably in the kitchen given her proximity to the door. She doesn't have any chakra either, nor is she remarkably strong.

It's exceptionally strange, being in a world without chakra.

She can't make solid things invisible to her sight, not like a Hyuuga could, but she can layer a camouflage technique over herself and sink into the ground, emerging slowly enough into the kitchen that she shouldn't be causing obvious ripples.

The woman is busy with a pot hung over a fire, and doesn't notice her entrance.

She should probably just slit the woman's throat.

But she has five minutes.

She goes to lurk just behind the woman, carefully, so her breath will just tickle the back of the woman's neck.

She startles, ladle in her right hand jumping and sloshing hot soup across the floor.

"Maker's breath!" She looks over her shoulder worriedly.

...Not giggling at that is really hard but 'random disembodied giggling' isn't Hisame's game right now.

Hisame leans into her space a bit more, right hand ghosting over the woman's hip, just hard enough to send shivers over most people's skin.

(She's ready to grab and muffle the woman if she looks like she'll flinch hard enough to knock into the pot and make noise, or like she'll scream - Hisame has her sharingan active, she'll practically know these things before the woman does.)

She is indeed about to scream and send the pot crashing into the fire.

Hisame pulls the woman into her, hand over her mouth - still camouflaged.

"What a naughty girl, trying to scream," she murmurs, pressing their bodies together as she steps back.

Her eyes are wide with terror. She says something behind Hisame's hand, which she can perhaps make out.

"Andraste preserve us, Andraste preserve us, Andraste preserve us, Andraste preserve us, Andraste preserve us..." Her mantra is fervent and quick.

"Andraste isn't here, darling. I am." And unfortunately she lacks the time to draw this out very well. "But I'm merciful, when I wish. Let's make a little deal, hm? I'll let you turn around, and I want you to look me in the eyes and smile and give me a little kiss. I'll make it nice and painless, then."

"If you scream... Well, if you're lucky I'll get bored of playing with you in a few days."

"Or I can steal your voice and break your legs and let you watch as I kill this family, and then maybe keep you for a little bit."

Her mantra changes to a wordless moan of fear.

She loosens her grip, and, sing-song, says "Tick-tock! What's your poison, darling?"

(She'll still be able to react before any actual screaming.)

"I- I-"

"T-th-the f-f-first?"

Brightly: "Good choice!" Though she'd been hoping for a pet.

She lets her prize go and drops her camouflage. (Her mismatched crimson and lavender eyes still focused firmly on the woman, though, alert for any betrayal.)

She turns around slowly. The fear in her eyes is tinged by confusion when she sees Hisame. Haltingly, she attempts a smile. It's not a very good one.

She'll take it, smiling back with an enthusiasm that would put Naruto to shame.

"And a kiss?"

(Though already she's layering an illusion over the woman, to hopefully make her feel floating and free of pain.)

She hesitates, then closes her eyes and leans in, lips pursed.

A soft, gentle kiss - 

And a touch to the woman's sternum - 

And Hisame stops her heart.

And so she dies.

And then, the rest of the household reaches the kitchen. Thrown with unseen force through the door one by one, to crumble against the opposite wall. The first is missing both eyes, three fingers of the right hand, and his right leg is broken. The jaw of the next is a mangled ruin and both arms bend at unseemly angles. The last does not so much crumble against the wall squish downwards, making crunching noises as he does so. They are, all three, still alive.

The Keres follows them in, more sedately, a self-satisfied smirk gracing her lips.

She sets the woman down, gently. 

"Looks like the fun's begun in full, now," she says, clasping her hands together.

She raises an eyebrow at Hisame's armful. "Make a friend, did you? However briefly."

"Yes! Sadly she didn't want to be my pet..."

"Alas. Well, there will be others."

"Indeed. And for now, the entertainment before us."

The Keres has several ghosts with healing abilities. Enough to keep the unfortunate entertainment alive long beyond what their ordinary expiration point would be.

Hisame has any medical abilities, as well, and can cause very creative damage with those.

Still, civilians are often so boring; she'll stop wanting to play with these once they break.

She disposes of the trash by having one of her ghosts eat it.

There is perhaps half the night remaining.

"Morning alright for investigating the city?"

She nods in assent.

"There are three bedrooms upstairs; for the couple and each of the sons, one assumes. You may choose first, if you wish."

"Thanks!"

She picks the most opulent and overstuffed one, naturally.

Then presumably she will have opulent and overstuffed dreams.

When she wakes, the Keres will be in the kitchen, frying eggs and sausage and pancakes. Not using any of the kitchen untensils, mind, purely through various applications of powers she has collected.

Hisame does so love mundane applications of extraordinary powers.

She is, however, not a morning person. She groggily thanks the Keres and then valiantly avoids collapsing into her breakfast by sheer willpower.

An understandable position. She herself avoided a similar fate by rising early enough to have gotten through that stage of the day already.

"For a while I was on a team with someone who would start chattering the instant he rolled out of bed," she grumbles. "Sweet boy, but there were times I got quite tempted to shut him up."

"My sympathies. I do not enjoy mornings myself."

She nods and goes back to picking at her food.

(Why in all the hells and heavens does she miss that blond idiot...)

She'll let her companion finish dealing with the new day in her own fashion. That is how she prefers it.

Once she's woken up a bit more, and thoroughly tossed the house (except the Keres' bedroom) for any reading material: "Let's start on identifying who might be able to stop us today, hm?"

Most of the books have already been gathered. The Keres has done some reading of her own already.

"Agreed. I do not think the mundane forces will pose any significant danger; the technology level is too low. I am more concerned about the mages, and their guardians, the templars."

"I suspect we'd likely win even a pitched battle - I've hardly shown off everything I can do when rested - but there are risks and then there are stupidities."

"Just so. Fortunately for us, both templars and mages reside in the same place, the fortress by the water. The locals call it 'the Gallows'."

She closes her eyes, sorting through memories - 

"I don't much like the idea of making mages Tranquil. Perhaps we will find some yet free who would like to join us in a little uprising."

"A mages' rebellion is a great fear of many. There is a country to the north which is apparently ruled by mages."

"I do so love granting people their fears."

"To the Gallows, then?"

"To the Gallows!"

Off they set. The streets are more crowded in the daytime, and they can even see a few pointy-eared elves dressed in servant's clothes scurrying about.

The Gallows is only accessible by water, and they're in Hightown now. To get there conventionally, they'll have to pass through the markets to Lowtown and thence to the docks, to take a ferry over.

"I can go effectively invisible and walk on water. I'm unsure if I'd rather go through the markets or over the rooftops, right now. You?"

"Not having consumed the mind of a native, I believe I will walk, to further familiarize myself with the world."

"Alright! Getting to know new people's always fun..."

Hightown and Lowtown are separated by a set of stairs and a pair of gates. The streets of Lowtown are significantly less well-maintained than those of Hightown. There aren't any pigeon corpses, but one suspects that that's only because the residents would have claimed them as food. There are a lot of people in Lowtown, and all of them are ragged and worn down.

"I would hate to see the alleyways."

"Indeed. I have no idea what it is with nobles and not taking pride in their cities - if you're going to bother with laws at all..."

"Gives them something to feel superior to the commoners over- at least they don't live in filth."

One of said commoners brushes past the pair and bumps into Hisame. He takes the opportunity to sneak a hand into her pocket in search of a coinpurse.

She carries everything that isn't a fairly commonly used weapon in tattoo seals, so.

She twists, grabbing his wrist and leaning into his space - her other hand liberating him of something from his own pockets as she does so. "Now, that wasn't very smart, was it? You should practice sizing up your mark a bit better, hm?"

"Ack- Lemme go! Sorry, all right?"

She dangles whatever she stole in front of him. Looks boring to her, but maybe valuable to him. "You're fortunate I have somewhere to be. I'll be keeping this, though." And throwing it in the gutter. She still doesn't let him go, her grip like iron.

He makes a grab for it with his free hand. "That's my lucky ratknife, come on!"

She grins.

"Very well."

It goes through his foot.

"Andraste's TITS you fucking bitch-"

He still has his second-lucky ratknife. He makes to grab it out of its pocket and swing it at her face.

"Oh, that's not nice or smart."

She lets him get the knife out, then grabs his other wrist, swiftly pressing on pressure points that should force someone untrained to open their hand.

His hand pops open.

(They've accumulated a small clear space, but no one's lingering to watch.)

"If you want to keep your hands, I suggest apologizing very profusely to me."

"Shitting darkspawn whore Maker-blasted goatsucker-" He's too busy cursing to apologize.

"I'm starting to think I might do the world a favor were I to remove you from it."

(She applies just a sliver of killing intent. If it hasn't occurred to him to be afraid, that she's dangerous - well, it should now. Usually she doesn't bother with such brute force methods, but this idiot seems rather too dumb to learn his new position without more of a detour than she's in the mood for.)

His jaw clicks shut.

"Sorry." His voice is abruptly higher-pitched.

She lets go of his injured hand to pat him on the cheek.

"Do remember this lesson. I'd hate for my time instructing you to go to waste, after all."

And she's letting go entirely to walk away from him.

He turns smartly about and limps the exact opposite direction.

The Keres is smiling at her.

She grins back. "Sorry about the delay. I hope it was at least an entertaining show."

"It was at that. You have... a certain talent."

"Thanks! Being terrifying at people's one of my favorite hobbies."

"It is my hope I will be privileged to observe you ever new heights in the practice thereof."

She smiles, more softly than she usually does.

"Perhaps we may learn from each other, here."

Another, brief smile, and she turns back to their course.

They go past a marketplace, with stalls selling armor, weapons, fine dwarven crafts direct from Orzammar, and all manner of sundries. Each stall has one or two toughs lurking nearby glaring suspiciously at those who get too close without intent to purchase, except for one which offers a variety of herbs and potions and is run by a well-dressed woman with a tastefully made-up face.

What sorts of potions and herbs do they at least think are effective? (It's very telling about a society and its anxieties, that sort of thing.)

Elfroot for your ills and deathroot for your enemies. Embrium for the lungs and spindleweed for the bones. The stallkeeper introduces herself as Lady Elegant and adds that specialty items are available on request for the more... discerning customer.

Hisame honestly trusts her own poisons more (she doesn't say this) (she does briefly wonder if her snakes survived the universe collapsing).

She's fairly sure the specialty items are lyrium potions, which, no.

She does smile a bit but makes her excuses and moves on.

The Keres does purchase a handful of small vials before moving on, making them vanish smoothly inside her robes.

Hisame window shops some at the other booths - she likes the blades she has, but collecting new knives from this world seems thematically appropriate. Of course, she'll only go for quality.

For quality, she will have to look elsewhere. Some few of the items on display approach serviceable to the experienced eye.

Not acceptable at all.

She notes the general patterns - what blades might be useful for what tasks, to hint at what fighting styles people might use - but she moves on.

Past a run-down foundry district then, and another set of gates and stairs brings them to the docks. The buildings here are mostly warehouses. The most interesting thing they pass is the street that has been blocked off by a ramshackle gate with two seven-feet tall, horned, broadly muscled Qunari standing guard in front of it, arms crossed impassively over bare chests.

...Hmmmm perhaps something to investigate on the way back, given that she doesn't particularly want to dawdle nor waste chakra on a clone.

The Qunari give every impression they'll still be there, solid as stone even should the city burst into flame around them.

The docks proper are tightly packed with ships of all sizes, flying all sorts of colors. They're not the only people seeking passage to the Gallows; there are more than a few small craft for which ferrying people to and fro seems to be their primary purpose.

"Preferences on which ship?"

"One that won't sink halfway across the harbor," she says, eyeing two men bailing out a small rowboat with suspicion. She looks around. "There," she points at a bulky man with one peg leg standing next to a boat with room for six passengers. She marches up to him. "Passage to the Gallows," she says, tossing him two golden coins. "No other passengers, and you will wait there to bring us back," tossing him two more.

He catches them out of the air, bites down on one to test it. "Right y'are, missies. In y'get, then."

She boards, smiling briefly at the man.

"I think I've been on a boat all of twice - what, four, five years ago," she says to the Keres with a bit of a laugh.

"...We used to go out to the lake, when I was very small."

"Sounds peaceful. We had a river, but most of it was too swift for children to be playing in."

"It was. Briefly."

Her gaze snaps to their conductor, whose eyes have been roaming appreciatively across his two passengers. He quails under the weight of her glare.

She laughs.

"Maybe pay attention to our route," she suggests to the conductor, voice still merry.

He coughs, and bends back to his tasks. The voyage is, if not record-setting, not precisely leisurely.

The Gallows' docks are watched over by templars, with full plate armor, longswords, and tall shields bearing their order's sigil: a sword wreathed in flame, point up. Peaceable visitors are allowed to pass by into the fortress courtyard without comment.

That's definitely them, peaceable sorts. No revolution or murder to be seen here.

The skeptical expressions this assertion would cause on the more perceptive sort of templar are hidden behind their bucket-like helmets. And the fact that such an assertion is left unvoiced. And that there are, in fact, none of the more perceptive sort of templar standing guard at the moment. The courtyard is ringed by metal statues of people in chains, similar to the carvings on the city wall. Along one wall is an actual gallows, sized for fifteen nooses at once, though only a pair are occupied at the moment. The bodies are slowly decomposing, eyes and bits of flesh from the faces already picked off by scavengers. But the main attraction is on the other side, where the Circle mages have space to sell enchanted items to the public, under watchful guard.

The Keres makes straight for that last.

She admires the decorations a bit, then following, gaze sweeping over what's for sale, analyzing the guards and how dangerous they might be (she suspects 'not very'). 

They've clearly had extensive training, but it's unlikely they'll be a threat to her in particular. They seem more concerned with the mages than visitors. But of the fifteen or so Circle representatives, only two are mages still capable of their craft. The rest are Tranquil, bearing the distinctive forehead brand of that ritual and speaking in emotionless monotone.

She makes a face when she sees the brand.

Interacting with the Tranquil is intensely disquieting, though she doesn't let most of that show. (She wonders if there's a way to make them feel again, however briefly, so they can at least know fear before she kills them.)

What's for sale?

Boxes to keep food cool, cups that keep drinks hot. Cloth supernaturally impermeable to water, or that will act as a heater in cold weather. An array of potions and herbs similar to that carried by Lady Elegant, but with a much heavier emphasis on healing and vastly fewer poisons. Imbued gauntlets that will increase the wearer's strength. Bows that will set fire to an arrow as it's shot and daggers that crackle with electricity.

The Keres is toying with one of these, drawing it lazily through the air and observing that sparks that jump off.

She'll look at the bows - her last one broke, and 'sets fire to things' sounds aesthetic.

Shortbows, longbows, crossbows... None are artisanal masterworks, but they all exceed the 'serviceable' bar. (Arrows not included.)

(Eh, with the stresses she puts weapons under... Still, she might be able to dissect one, or play with the magic somehow. She still hasn't explored the full potential of her Rinnegan.)

She'll take a short bow.

The cost is ten sovereigns. (The gold coins, and twice as much as a high-quality, unenchanted bow. There was enough coin in the manor for this to be a comfortable purchase.)

She might try to obtain an unenchanted bow later, as well.

She pays it, and asks if there's a fletcher the seller would recommend. (She probably still has some arrows sealed away somewhere, but.)

"I know very little of the manufacture of arrows," is the flat, glassy-eyed reply. "They are not permitted within the Circle."

"Pity."

(She is going to burn this place to the ground. She bets the templars scream beautifully. People who think they're so far above others always have the most delicious fear...)

"Would you care to purchase anything else? I am told the red cloth is suitable for a person of your coloration."

"Oh, I do so love red..." And really she'll eventually need more than the three outfits she has on her, and it's not like she can't steal more money if she runs out.

She picks the bloodiest shade, of course. One of the impermeable to water ones.

That runs her another seven sovereigns.

The Keres purchases the knife she was playing with, another selection of potions and herbs, and a few lengths of cloth of her own. All of it vanishes inside her robes when the guards aren't looking.

Hisame's storage seals take a bit more creativity to hide the function of, but it's a challenge now.

Away go the bow and cloth, into new tattoos on her forearm and hip respectively. 

Their legal business here taken care of, she walks over near the hanged men again.

She spends the walk cataloguing local defenses and how quickly they'll likely be able to respond to Hisame's usual brand of chaos.

The courtyard is easily sealed off, and the walls are thick and sheer.

"I don't think the templars will pose a danger," she murmurs when Hisame is close enough. "They are well trained, but against those not wielding their magic, that is their only advantage. The mages have a wide breadth of ability, but nothing evinced says to me that is insurmountable. And there is deep animosity between the templars and their charges. It would not be difficult at all to arrange events such that we face but one faction at a time."

Not much of a problem for someone who can fly if she feels like spending the chakra, or run up walls nearly as easily as she'd run across a flat surface.

"They seem to rely very heavily on their physical sureties - their walls and gates. I doubt they will do well at all against attacks from unexpected directions."

"I agree. We could demolish the fortress here and have our run of the city unimpeded, if we wished."

She grins. "That could be a fun opening move! Imagine the panic sweeping through them..."

"They would not know how to react, the lynchpin of their defense stripped before they knew they needed it."

"They'd be oh so vulnerable, afraid at every turn and bump..."

"Though for full effect, we might wish to wait for the dwarf's tale to percolate through the city more fully."

"Patience does so often pay off - though I am very tempted to set a clone to following him, and see if I can't get him telling it to a crowded room at the same moment we act."

"A clone?"

"I can't show it here, but I can make a duplicate of myself out of chakra. They're called shadow clones. Fairly fragile and expensive, so not entirely effective in combat, but when they dismiss I get their memories. A rather wonderful espionage tool."

"I see. That sounds like a good idea, then. We could also use the time to prepare the ground with either the templars or the mages, if we wish to do more than simply incite terror."

"I'd like to see the end of that nasty Tranquil business, at least."

"Mm. It is unfortunate."

"I can't imagine Tranquil mages would be at all fun to kill - I wonder if there's a way of restoring them..."

She is about to say something when a templar approaches the two of them.

     "Excuse me ladies, but the Gallows is not a gathering spot. If you have no further business here, you need to move on."

"Oh, I'm quite sorry. Just admiring the view, you know. Do we have further business?" She turns the question to the Keres.

"-None the good knight-lieutenant here need to concern himself with, I think. It would not do to distract him, lest his charges summon more demons under his nose. The weather here is better than in the south, don't you think? And the promotion suits you."

     "I..." He looks vaguely stunned. "Y- Move along." He waves his hand, though it's unclear if the gesture is to urge them on, ward them off, or dispell an unpleasant odor.

She laughs, walking away from the stunned knight-captain - but not back to the boat.

Once she's plausibly out of earshot: "Want to try slipping inside? I can split off a clone now, too, to go look for our erstwhile dwarf."

"Yes. All the interesting mages are kept inside, I think."

There's an immensely faint shimmer as Hisame forms a clone and immediately layers a chameleon technique over it.

Clone takes off back to the city, to stalk the dwarf and probably get distracted by random alleyways. (If she sees any exceptionally tempting targets, murders while they have a solid alibi would be very fun.)

"That would fit the pattern."

"Yes. Circle around outside or sneak in from here?"

"I could manage either, though from here might be interestingly challenging."

"There's a door at the top of this wall that leads into the tower and is presently unguarded on either side. Would you like to make it a race?"

"Sure," says the clone Hisame leaves in her place as she darts off, invisible.

There's a flash of light among the Circle mages, drawing everyone's attention. The Keres teleports to the door and steps through it, passing through like a ghost.

Oh, if they're playing with teleports...

Hisame swaps places with the Keres.

Tch. Almost made it. She blinks back up and moves through the door again. It's still locked, so if Hisame can't phase through it, she might yet win.

Hisame needs to meld through the wall beside the door, and that's slower than just turning into a ghost.

Hisame's clone, on the other hand, is still standing in the crowd, and proceeds to also swap with the Keres.

If that's the way she wants to play it-

Blink up, an unseen hand taps both Hisames-

And eighty-seven seconds later, the Keres is waiting for her inside the tower.

"Well played!" Hisame says, laughing. "Did you just pause me? That's exceptionally weird, by the way, having two of my bodies offline, but not the third."

"A temporal lock of random duration, yes. I imagine it would be odd to have one's consciousness split like that. Are you experiencing any issues with resynchronization?"

"Not at all, but I'm used to shadow clones - usually they have separate consciousnesses that re-merge when they're destroyed. The syncing is a new power."

"Good, then. I would have hated for our little game to cause you problems."

"It would've been good to find out if it did, though, when we're relatively unpressured."

"Still, you won, fair and square." Teasingly: "I suppose you get a prize, now."

"Do I now? And what manner of prize might that be?" Her smirk says she knows exactly what sort of prize she wants.

She steps closer, until she's in the Keres' space a bit, looking up through her eyelashes. Soft, quick kiss, and then stepping back to smirk. "A little taste, perhaps."

Though from her posture she doesn't look like she'd react hostilely to someone declaring that too little a prize.

She matches her step back.

"I am not one," she says, bending her head down to be level with Hisame's, "to be satisfied with a taste."

"Oh? How much do you plan to take, then?"

"As much as I can, naturally." Her breath is soft and hot on Hisame's lips, and she's smiling as she leans in to close the final gap.

Hisame might give her another few challenges for anything past kissing, but for now, kissing is quite delightful.

Quite.

They're not exactly in friendly territory, so she won't push beyond that. For now.

She breaks off the kiss with a self-satisfied smile and steps back. "There."

That is a very good kiss. Hisame is not usually the taken.

She smirks. "I think we're off to a good start."

"Onwards to chaos, death, destruction, and the buildup to the grand finale?"

"Perhaps not immediately if we wish to recruit any mages. But far be it from me to say no to you."

She laughs. "I'm fine with building tension for a while."

Then it's off to explore the Gallows. The fortress isn't terribly labyrinthine, but it does get a bit crowded when they get further in. The city of Kirkwall is home to around a hundred and eighty mages and close to five hundred templars, and they all live here.

She makes a bit of a game of avoiding people - having already dismissed the non-dwarf-seeking clone - but she can use the chameleon technique, so.

Any of the mages exceptionally interesting?

A group of young mages practicing spells against target dummies, under the watchful eyes of their templar guards. Some in the library, studying. A few shut away in their quarters, furtively reading strange books. A pair shut away in their room having sex. First Enchanter Orsino, a grey-haired elf doing paperwork in his study, muttering imprecations against Knight-Commander Meredith under his breath.

The furtive ones seem most promising for a little revolution, though Orsino might have levers they can push...

Does the Keres have insight on what they're reading about?

Illegal erotic literature, a history of Tevinter, and... a book on forbidden blood magic.

...Oooooooooh.

(At the blood magic. Erotic literature might be fun to steal as a pet, though, depending on the literature.)

She wants to go spy on blood magic mage closer!

(The literature is blandly vanilla and not all that well-written.)

The blood magic mage is taking notes and keeps glancing somewhat nervously at a knife laid to one side of the bed.

(Too bad. Well, she'll keep looking.)

Hisame wants to at least scare the blood mage, if not recruit them.

...She moves the knife while the mage isn't looking. Just a little.

They twitch when they notice, then shake their head and refocus.

Move it again, making a faint scraping noise.

They shut the book with a snap, and thrust both it and the knife under the bed.

Hmmm, what else is in this room for her to mess with...

(She'll let them stew while she identifies targets.)

The room's pretty bare; mages of this Circle aren't allowed much in the way of frills. Which perhaps explains why even the boring erotica is illegal.

Pity.

She leans a bit into their space, whispering, "What fascinating interests you have."

They let out a high-pitched eeping noise.

"How would you like to know more, little mage?"

"But- but- I didn't even do anything!"

The Keres stifle an amused snort.

"You could though. You could do so much."

"I, uh, show yourself, demon. I won't make a deal with anyone I can't see." Their attempt to sound commanding is almost cute.

"Do you expect to see Death as she comes?"

She does not show herself.

"Death?! No. No. I don't want death. I wanted a desire demon."

"And there is no one you desire the Death of, hm?"

"Well. Knight-Commander Meredith, I guess. And Ser Alrik. And Imerios. And Seffie. Wait, no. No death, demon. I absolutely forbid you from going on a killing spree."

She laughs.

"Oh, but you didn't do anything, did you?"

"...No?"

"So why do you think you can command me?"

"Um. Isn't that how demons work? That's what all the books said..."

"You're kind of adorably dumb, so I won't kill you, but I just can't let that sort of disrespect slide, you know. I'd be the laughing stock of the demon world."

"Um. Please don't hurt me?"

"Oh, this won't hurt you a bit."

And he can be trapped in a mild illusion of everyone she's seen here dying around him! It even won't knock him out for a month. See how nice she is?

He whimpers a little as he kind of flops backwards.

"Not very intelligent, this one." She bends to retrieve the book from under the bed.

She laughs and steals his knife. "I hope some of them are cleverer, at least."

"Perhaps. Where next?"

"Not many of them seemed to have much potential. Perhaps that lead enchanter?"

She nods. "What tack do you wish to take with him?"

"Hm. He's survived to be old. He'll be too cautious, I think, for revenge fantasies. Offer him freedom. Hope for the youth. Ascendancy for his people."

"I'll follow your lead. You have more of a talent for people than I do."

"I shan't disappoint, then."

To spy more closely on Orsino!

Still dealing with paperwork. He has more things than the other mage did, his office is cluttered with various curios, not all of them magical. A staff with three dragon heads leans up in one corner.

And how long does it take him to notice her moving things when he's not looking? (This is both hilarious and a good test of how observant and wary potential allies - or potential targets - are.)

Not very long at all. He casts a spell, and a pulse of force sweeps out across the room at chest height, high enough to avoid disturbing his things but low enough that any hidden intruders will be caught by it and knocked against the wall.

She ducks, like a sensible shinobi.

And the Keres is, of course, unaffected. It's unwise to beard a mage in his den without putting precautions in place.

Orsino frowns at the lack of effect. "Very well, then. Show yourself."

She likes the 'disembodied voice' routine, but she thinks he'll be more receptive if she plays along.

She appears, modifying the chameleon technique a bit so her normal colors slowly bleed back into her, starting from the head down.

"Hello."

"No demon, and not one of the mages here. You're no Starkhaven refugee, either. Who are you, and why have you come?"

"A harbinger of the change to come, and I am here because you seemed to have more... Ambition, let's say."

"Ambition?" He scoffs. "Hardly. I have a spine, and refuse to cower just because the templars snarl."