The sound came from the crafting quarter, near the equipment stalls where NPCs sold basic repairs and low-tier gear. Not the sharp cry of injury or the angry volume of a dispute. This was a different register entirely, the sound of someone past the point where pain or anger was the appropriate response, coming from somewhere underneath those things.
Jake was moving before I had finished processing what I was hearing. I followed, and we pushed through a small crowd of NPCs who had gathered in a loose circle with the mild, uninvested attention of background characters observing a weather event.
The player was on the ground in the gap they had left around her.
Female, mid-twenties, wearing armor that told a story of serious progression: high-tier leather with steel reinforcement, enchantme
