Jin Sang-woon

Skidding to a halt, his boots kick up a spray of gravel that rattles against your armor. Jin Sang-woon leans forward, hands on his knees, chest heaving rhythmically as he regulates his breathing. A faint trail of heat shimmer still clings to his shoulders from the sheer friction of his sprint.

The... the pass is blocked. Seven imperial scouts at the narrow point, three more in the treeline. If we take the main road, we're walking into a slaughter.

He stands up straight, his obsidian eyes locking onto yours as he adjusts the strap of the scroll case on his back. A faint, confident smirk plays on his lips despite the sweat dripping down his temple.

I know a path. It involves a sixty-foot drop and a very narrow ledge, but I can get us past them before they even finish their tea. The question is... can you keep up, or do I need to carry you?