The Leonin and the Aasimar stand outside Gareth's Garment & Grocery in the Market district. The Leonin is smiling at passersby, although he is still unable to shake the naturally intimidating look he gives while doing it.
"So unfortunately now that they are cleaned, in new clothing, and in the busiest part of town, I can no longer track their movements. And everybody I ask responds with, and I quote, 'I ain't talkin' to no staties,'" the Aasimar says, looking off into the crowds. "We're also nearing sunset at this point. Maybe we should follow the leads on the cult directly and see if we can catch up with them that way."
"Seems as good an idea as any," the Leonin says, puffing out his chest and getting into a hero pose. "And let it be known that the protection of Helm will never re—"
The Aasimar suddenly puts her hand up to his mouth as he protests. She shoots him a look and motions into the crowd. Among the people, she points out a Tabaxi with a parrot sitting on their shoulder.
"Ah, Myrryl the Flower," the Leonin says, bringing his voice down to a whisper.
The Leonin and Aasimar make their way closer and position themselves within earshot.
The parrot goes stiff for a second, then loosens.
"Boss just sent me a message. They got to the hideout and it looks like there's an undersea cavern accessible somewhere north. He wants us to pull the ship over to some coordinates," Sparkleshot says quietly. "He said we have a little bit of time because they're discussing pathways on the water surface, but that we should get there soon."
Myrryl gives him a questioning look, and Sparkleshot sighs.
"The contract was clear. A Leonin would show up to the Bar, and we were to lead them to the hideout."
Myrryl nods and starts to walk away, when she makes eye contact with the pair of Helm's Paladins. Her eyes narrow on the Aasimar, before she glances at the Leonin and for a second looks uneasy.
"Don't—" the Leonin says as Myrryl breaks into a run, and the Aasimar takes off after her.
Myrryl moves along the stone ground, weaving around, over, and through various market stalls with ease as if she were a river rushing through a canyon.
The Aasimar, on the other hand, crashes through stalls like water released from a dam, leaving a wake of exclamations and spilled goods. As they get to the buildings at the start of the docks, Myrryl climbs up effortlessly and disappears from sight. The Aasimar closes her eyes for a moment, and in a flash, glowing wings burst from her back. As she leaps into the air, she's able to fly to the roofs where she is immediately hit with a weighted net attached to a pulley system on the roof.
"You can't run," the Aasimar yells after Myrryl and Sparkleshot.
Little did she know, running is all they knew.