"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."