Aubrey trotted down the main thoroughfare with an audacious spring in her step, swathed in her ingeniously modified attire. The noblewoman's dress, now absent its constricting bodice, had been daringly modified to accommodate her more ample figure.

Thankfully, the bra fits. Otherwise, I'd feel like a balloon about to pop.

In a bold departure from the era's stringent norms, she had discarded the bodice entirely, opting instead for a loose-fitting, silky chemise that served as a makeshift undergarment. This layer, scarcely meant for the public eye, peeked from beneath the remaining components of the dress.

Accompanying the chemise, a pair of tastefully unlaced sleeves draped freely, billowing elegantly as she pranced merrily along the cobblestones.

The gown itself, a stunning piece of black silk, now wrapped less conventionally around her. The high neckline and intricate lace had been forgone in favor of a more revealing cut, one that inadvertently accentuated her curves.

Likewise, the skirt, once hemmed and bound with complex, restrictive layers, had been altered, the excess fabric discarded and trimmed. The remaining length hugged her hips, retaining a semblance of modesty—albeit loosened—ending just above her ankles and revealing a daring glimpse of her boots beneath.

To compensate for the lost structure of the bodice, she had cinched the dress at the waist with a length of ribbon snatched from the noblewoman's luggage, creating a semblance of fit. Additionally, a borrowed leather belt had been appropriated, doubling as a functional accessory and a convenient holster for her pilfered weapons.

All told, Aubrey felt liberated. The final product was—despite the radical modifications—a resplendent, if not risqué, ensemble.

Erika had complied reluctantly and tearfully, swapping Aubrey's tunic and trousers with her dress, and Aubrey had relented and allowed her to keep the accessories.

Afterward, Aubrey tied the suited bandit using his cravat, fashioning improvised restraints around his wrists and ankles, securing the traitor to a nearby lamppost.

The unconscious knight's fate, she left to the noblewoman's discretion—and compensation.

Along the way, Aubrey looted the slain bandits, taking whatever valuables she could pilfer. The haul consisted of several coin pouches, a few rings, a necklace, and a bracelet.

Aubrey hummed merrily as she marched down the avenue, admiring her reflection in the storefront windows and mirrors. She ran a hand through her hair, letting the raven locks flow freely, tousling the strands and adjusting their placement. Somehow she had makeup on—probably another Banshee thing. Her crimson eyes were framed beautifully by her smoky eyeshadow and dark eyeliner.

Overall, she looked rad, Goth, and vampish.

Best loot ever, definitely worth the trouble.

Pausing, she glanced up and admired her surroundings, marveling at the towering edifices lining the avenue. Stone statues and marble plinths decorated the boulevard, adding a sense of grandeur to the streets.

Her wanderlust drew her away from the avenue's grandeur, her feet leading her to where the Ironworks' smoke softened into the mists that veiled Gallows Row.

The vibrant clamor of hammers and the hiss of steam gave way to an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional drunken shout or the cry of a passing gull.

Winding her way through the dilapidated streets, Aubrey's gaze settled upon a decrepit cathedral shrouded in a misty gloom, its towering spires piercing the veil of the fog.

Ivy ensnared the stone, weaving through its crevices and cracks, as if trying to pull the ancient structure back into the earth from whence it came.

Woah...

Aubrey stared at the imposing structure, her curiosity drawing her nearer.

A passerby, noticing Aubrey's fixed gaze upon the cathedral, sidled closer, nudging her.

"Ye ought not to wander yon," he murmured, gesturing to the decrepit edifice. "Cursed, that place be. Haunted by sounds that'll curdle yer blood and shadows that dance with no folk to lead 'em. At night, ye can hear 'em—screechin' and wailn'—like damned souls."

Aubrey glanced sidelong, meeting the passerby's sunken, red-rimmed eyes. "Really?"

"Aye, rumors abound. Old tales speak of Unhallowed, creatures cursed an' damned. Wretched and malevolent, lurkin' within thar halls. Folks've gone missn', and none brave enough ta seek 'em out. Best keep yer distance, miss."

The man hobbled away, and Aubrey lingered, her gaze transfixed by the Gothic cathedral's ruined facade.

Her lips twitched into a smile, and she suppressed a chuckle. "Sounds like my kind of party."

Ignoring the old man's cautionary tale, she walked briskly toward the cathedral.

She tested the door, and it gave easily, creaking inward and admitting her.

Crossing the threshold, Aubrey stepped into a darkened vestibule.

Massive pillars stretched upward, disappearing into shadow, supporting the vaulted ceiling, its rafters draped in shadow and cobwebs. Motes of dust drifted lazily upon the fading evening light, lending the air a ghostly aspect.

Columns lined the periphery, encircling a central rotunda. Beyond, Aubrey could make out rows upon rows of pews, arrayed before an apse draped in shadow. Sunlight, filtered through the stained glass windows, painted the dust-laden pews in vibrant hues.

Aubrey inhaled, breathing deeply. The air smelled stale and musty, infused with the subtle odor of incense and candle wax.

Her boots clicked softly upon the stone tiles, and the door groaned shut, leaving her alone.

"Hello? Anyone home? Don't mind me, just a friendly visitor," Aubrey announced.

No answer, save for the echo of her words fading softly within the sanctuary.

Tutting, Aubrey wandered down the nave, her footsteps echoing in the vast, empty hall, gazing idly at the murals and frescoes adorning the walls.

Statues peered down from their alcoves, their blank, stone-carved faces regarding her impassively. Aubrey's fingers traced along the backs of the pews, feeling the grain of the wood, smooth yet cloaked with a thin layer of dust.

At the chancel, Aubrey halted and gazed upwards, admiring the intricate craftsmanship.

This reminded her of Notre Dame or Saint Patrick's Cathedral. Except... creepier.

Her gaze trailed higher, settling upon the stained glass windows lining the upper tiers. Each pane depicted images of... musicians?

Squinting, Aubrey studied the nearest image—a musician, seated upon a stool, cradling a violin within her grasp. A scroll, inscribed with musical notation, floated above the musician's head, depicting an unfamiliar melody.

Huh... Odd choice of artwork. But hey, I dig it. Guess the religious imagery was inspired.

Further inspection showed similar motifs—musicians playing their instruments, surrounded by musical staffs and symbols, floating above their heads.

How enchanting. Wonder what that imagery represents... Music-related miracles, maybe?

"Guess I'm not the only performer gracing these halls," Aubrey spoke, addressing the silence, her voice bouncing off the walls.

Turning away, Aubrey's gaze roamed the apse, catching sight of an ancient organ tucked within an elevated alcove, its pipes reaching upward, extending into the shadows.

Aubrey approached, admiring the instrument, her fingers brushing gently upon the ivory keys. Dust tickled her nostrils, and she coughed.

Something tugged within her memory, and a sense of longing bloomed—a yearning to hear the instrument sing, to fill the sanctuary with a resounding melody.

"I doubt this thing even works anymore..." Aubrey murmured, inspecting the organ, her fingertips caressing its ancient mechanism.

Despite the dust and neglect, the keys were meticulously carved, the brass fixtures polished.

Experimentally, Aubrey tapped a key.

A note rang forth, resonating with a rich, deep timbre, echoing throughout the sanctuary.

It still works!

Encouraged, she pressed another key, striking it gently. The note resonated, the vibrations traveling pleasantly through her fingertips. A third key received the same treatment, producing a lower note.

Again, she pressed more keys, and the notes swelled, louder and clearer.

Music filled the apse, reverberating throughout the sanctuary, its melodies dancing through the empty hall, lingering upon the stained glass and coloring the air.

After a time, Aubrey released the final key, her fingers lingering upon the ivory, reluctant to depart.

Her gaze darted expectantly, searching the empty pews and the surrounding shadows, hoping for an audience.

None materialized.

"Anyone listening? I'll serenade the masses," Aubrey called out, sweeping her arms theatrically. "Just kidding. Maybe later."

Disappointed, Aubrey strode onward, exploring the rest of the sanctuary.

As she ventured deeper, her footsteps a soft litany against the stone floor, something stirred in the shadows. Not a sound, but a shift in the air, a change in the pattern of motes drifting through the fading sunlight.

Aubrey's stride faltered, and she froze, her senses straining.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Is something here...?

The sense of being watched intensified, a prickling at the back of her neck.

Then, from the corner of her eye, she noticed a shadow that detached itself from the gloom of the cathedral's farthest reaches. It moved with a deliberate grace, silent as the grave, save for the faintest scrape of stone against stone.

"Um, hi?" Aubrey called out, greeting the emptiness.

The shadow paused, a mere silhouette against the dim light, its form too indistinct to discern except for two pinpricks of light.

Eyes. Staring. Unwavering.

"Did I interrupt service? Sorry, I'll just explore a bit," Aubrey continued, her gaze tracking the shadow. "Say... are you a priest, pastor, or deacon perhaps? Can't imagine worship still takes place here."

Her questions hung suspended within the stillness, unanswered.

Undaunted, Aubrey continued, adopting a casual, conversational tone. "Got an organ. Nice and dusty, and the tunes work, surprisingly. Looks expensive, wonder who plays it. Must've taken a lot of dedication and money, getting it installed and maintained."

Still no response.

"Okay, ignoring me, eh? Fine."

Aubrey marched towards the altar and sat upon the steps. Crossing her legs, Aubrey reclined leisurely and leaned back, her palms resting upon the cool stone.

"Well, Mr. or Ms. Silent, I'll hang out a bit, yeah? Got nowhere to go, anyway."

In the dim light, filtered through the remnants of sacred glass, the form took shape—a creature of stone, its features rough and worn, its eyes aglow with an eldritch light. Its wings, folded neatly behind its back, scraped the stone tiles, trailing a rasping sound.

What the...

Aubrey squinted, studying the creature's features. Its face, contoured with jagged lines and sharp angles, bore a stern countenance, its lips set in a perpetual scowl. Two horns, curved and gnarled, crowned its head, protruding proudly from the stone.

Its limbs, bulky and thick, were notched and scratched.

Holy shit... is that a gargoyle!?

As Aubrey rose to her feet, the creature unfurled its wings, stretching them wide. Its joints creaked, the sound echoing throughout the sanctuary.

"Well, hello there, Mr. Silent," Aubrey greeted, her demeanor nonchalant, despite her pounding heart. "Didn't know this cathedral had a guardian gargoyle. Very cool."

The creature cocked its head, its glowing gaze fixed upon her. Its mouth parted, revealing saw-like fangs.

"Leave this place," it growled, a voice like gravel dragged across cobblestone.

"Ooh, talking gargoyle. Even cooler," Aubrey responded, suppressing a shiver.

The gargoyle advanced, its taloned feet clicking against the stone tiles.

"Leave this place. Now," it repeated, its voice low and threatening.

"Hmm, no. Got no place to stay, no scratch for food, and I'm broke and tired. Wait... actually, I just picked up some coins from the bandits. Yeah, not broke... actually."

The gargoyle stopped, its claws flexing.

"Leave. Last warning," it rumbled.

Aubrey's gaze roamed the cathedral's interior, observing the ruins, the abandoned pews, and the faded murals. The rational part of her mind screamed flee.

But, something about this place made her feel... at home.

"Actually... I think I'll stay," Aubrey answered, her crimson gaze narrowing, challenging. "Don't own this place, yeah? Got no lease and the rent's free. So... I'll crash here."

The gargoyle's expression shifted, its features contorting, the stone seeming to warp.

"Defiance shall not go unpunished. Leave now," the creature growled.

"Or what, Mr. Silent? Yell at me some more? Look, I'm beat and tired. Had a long day, yeah? I'm staying the night. Deal with it," Aubrey declared, folding her arms.

The gargoyle loomed, its bulk casting a shadow over her. Its clawed hands clenched and relaxed, and its gaze grew baleful.

"Leave, or I will make you leave," the creature threatened, its voice rising.

"Ha, go ahead. Do your worst, statue. Push me out, I'll just come crawling right back. See, I'm stubborn like that."

"Then suffer the consequences," the gargoyle uttered, its glowing eyes flashing red as it charged, wings flared outward.

Aubrey's instincts reacted, her body moving before her mind registered the gargoyle's words.

Music surged in her mind—a furious composition—and the lines and marks appeared once more, tracing the gargoyle's path.

Her body, acting on pure instinct, sprang to the side, darting agilely as the gargoyle crashed upon the spot she once occupied, the cathedral floor fracturing and cracking under its weight.

"Holy shit!" Aubrey yelped, landing, her gaze wide.

Whirling, the gargoyle turned and sought her, its fists slamming into the ground, spraying shattered fragments of stone. Aubrey ducked, the debris pelting her harmlessly.

Are gargoyles supposed to move like that?!

Musical lines, pulsating and throbbing, encircled her, their trajectories signaling the creature's upcoming attack.

[Active Effect: Cadence Amidst Counterpoints (Passive Skill)]

[Active Effect: Staccato Step (Passive Skill)]

[Stacking Effects]

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Aubrey swore, her instincts screaming.

Acting quickly, she dove, her body reacting with preternatural speed.

The gargoyle's strike missed, its claws tearing the air. Aubrey rolled upright, spinning and retreating, putting distance between her and the creature.

An opportunity presented itself—the creature's guard dropped as it regained its balance, its center of mass off-balance.

In a blink of an eye, Aubrey's fingers found a throwing knife hidden within her garter. She whipped it outward, aiming for the gargoyle's exposed mark.

The knife spun and flew, and the creature's claws lashed out, smashing into the projectile. The blade splintered, shattering upon impact.

[Missed Attack: "Fuori Tempo"]

"Fuuuuck me, he's fast," Aubrey gasped, incredulous, ducking as a piece of knife embedded itself into the stone behind her.

The gargoyle didn't allow her even a second to recover, lunging forward, closing the distance rapidly.

The lines and patterns reappeared, and Aubrey bolted, narrowly avoiding a sweep of the creature's arm. The gargoyle's next swing grazed her, buffeting her with wind as it passed.

She somersaulted farther away, maintaining distance.

Circles, patterns, and trajectories appeared and faded as the music transitioned, the beat quickening to match the tempo of the gargoyle's movements.

Despite the danger, a grin split her lips as her eyes and ears tuned to the melody and rhythm, syncing to the cadences and the complex patterns of her foe.

Forget the slow and somber dirge that accompanied the graverobbers, or the chaotic, cacophonic mess that the bandits' actions evoked.

Here, Aubrey witnessed a unique, complex rhythm unlike anything she'd ever encountered—a sonata played with such ferocious precision that she found herself humming in tune, her lips mouthing the melody.

This gargoyle, for lack of a better word, had fucking beats, and she loved it!

It reminded her of one of her favorite concertos—not the whole piece, but one segment in particular.

It wasn't Mozart's Rondo Alla Turca, or Vivaldi's Allegro Non Molto from the Four Seasons, but rather Schubert's Marche Militaire—fast-paced and thrilling, where each movement struck with a sense of urgency.

Like the Marche Militaire, the gargoyle's rhythms featured alternating patterns of triplets and sixteenths, creating a flowing, martial cadence.

Its attacks flowed smoothly, each step and strike precise, yet somehow retaining a fluid quality. There were no wasted motions, only relentless aggression.

There was beauty in that rhythm.

In another life, maybe she could be friends with the gargoyle instead of having to fight it.

Unfortunately, that friendship wouldn't manifest today—not with it actively trying to murder her.

"Slow down, gargo! Take it easy!" Aubrey yelled, jumping nimbly as a fist slammed down where her head once occupied.

The stone tile cracked, shattering underneath the force of the strike.

That'd been too close for comfort, and her heart thudded loudly in her ears. Beads of sweat formed on her brow, trickling down her forehead, and she wiped them away impatiently.

"Damn, this is hardcore," Aubrey exclaimed, scrambling away, desperately evading each attack.

One moment, Aubrey sprung from one side; then in a flicker of motion, she switched sides, dancing like a blur to avoid a barrage of swift punches and swipes.

Meanwhile, the music's beat rose in intensity, evolving from the triplets and sixteenths earlier into thirty-second notes and sixty-fourths, each beat signifying a distinct threat to her survival.

And that beat was wild, almost frenzied in its rapidity, fueled by the gargoyle's growing impatience and irritation.

The music urged her to respond in kind, and her body did, flowing with the beat, her feet tapping an intricate, swirling dance.

Counterclockwise. Clockwise. Twisting and weaving, Aubrey avoided the gargoyle's strikes.

She unsheathed the shortsword at her hip, swinging wildly in time to the beat. It gleamed and whistled through the air, deflecting the creature's claws in a shower of sparks.

[Successful Parry: "Con Brio!"]

The gargoyle lashed out with its wings, knocking Aubrey flat, sending her sword clattering onto the stone floor. She rolled away from another descending fist, narrowly escaping it by millimeters, the force of the strike buffeting her and kicking up dust.

But right as she regained her footing, the shimmering line that indicated a strike coming her way flashed, and a clawed hand raced forward, smashing into her chest and throwing her against a column.

Pain exploded across her ribs, and the air fled from her lungs, her breath caught in her throat.

"Aauughhh!" Aubrey cried out, tumbling across the stone.

Stars swam in her vision as she struggled to regain her senses. Dazed, she lay there, groaning, as she attempted to rise.

The music abruptly stopped. Bright red warnings flashed before her eyes, overlayed on her vision.

[Effect: Bruised (Moderate)]

[Condition: Winded]

[Condition: Staggered]

"F-fuck..."

But before she could stumble to her feet, a hand grasped her roughly, pinning her to the column. The gargoyle loomed over her, its molten gaze glaring down, its breath hot upon her cheeks.

"Yield," the creature snarled, its voice a guttural growl.

Aubrey stared back, defiant.

"Not... likely," she replied, wheezing, her chest afire from the exertion.

The gargoyle's grip tightened, squeezing, its claws pricking her skin. Pain flared from her shoulders, and blood trickled down her neck, soaking into her dress.

"I said yield," the creature commanded. "I warned you. This is your last chance."

The pressure increased, and Aubrey gasped, struggling vainly against the vice-like grip. Her struggles only caused the claws to dig deeper, the pain becoming unbearable.

"Go... choke on a rock..." Aubrey replied between gasps of pain. "Screw off, you... glorified lawn ornament."

After a moment, the creature retracted its claws. It straightened and regarded her with a mixture of annoyance and bewilderment, its fiery gaze narrowing before finally letting out what sounded like a drawn-out sigh.

Aubrey winced as the gargoyle slung her over its shoulder, its grip firm and unyielding. Its wings scraped the stone walls of the cathedral as it stalked toward the front entrance, Aubrey bobbing helplessly over its back.

She struggled uselessly, thrashing in the creature's grasp. Her bruised ribs throbbed painfully with every bounce and jostle.

"Stop... stop it! Let me go! Fuck off, you stone-faced bastard!" Aubrey roared, her voice echoing throughout the cathedral.

But the gargoyle ignored her, striding purposefully. The stained glass windows rushed past, and the cavernous expanse of the nave shrank behind them.

"I'm not afraid of you! I'll come right back, you know! You can't keep me out! You don't own this place either, asshole! Screw you! Just screw you!" Aubrey shouted.

Without ceremony, the gargoyle reached the cathedral's main doors, pushed them open, and tossed Aubrey outside. She tumbled and landed upon the cobblestones, sprawling.

The doors slammed shut, and the sound of a bolt sliding home echoed faintly.

Aubrey pushed herself upright, wincing at her battered ribs. She glanced around, noting that the street lay empty, devoid of people.

Alone and defeated, she trudged slowly to the neighboring alley, slumping against the wall. She inspected the damage done to her attire: rips, tears, and stains everywhere.

What a waste of a good dress.

She sighed, frowning as she glared at the offending edifice. "I'm going to get that place if it's the last thing I do. Mark my words, Mr. Gargoyle, I'm coming back."

[You've gained a small amount of experience.]

Really? Even though I lost? Huh... Well, that makes me feel a little better.

The sun had sunk below the horizon, and dusk had settled upon the streets. The dying light cast long, grim shadows, shrouding the alleyway in gloom.

A faint breeze swept through the alley, carrying upon its currents the scent of damp earth, rain, and...

Wait, rain?

The telltale patter of rain upon stone reverberated down the cobblestone street, followed by a loud crash as the sky opened up. Water fell like a deluge, soaking through the city and cascading into the nearby puddles.

"You've got to be shitting me..."

Aubrey closed her eyes, resigned to her fate as the rain pelted her mercilessly.