The clamor of boots and the sharp clang of steel echo through the halls of Karich Urough’s keep, their rhythm punctuated by Zeph’s bold laughter. She strides through the chaos on her boisterous hunt, her voice ringing out like a war horn. Her black cape flares with each confident step, the hem snapping against her heels.
“Come on, Karich!” she bellows, her voice carrying through the twisting corridors.
A guard lunges from the shadows, his spear aimed for her chest, but Zeph sidesteps with a flourish, twisting her body in a practiced arc. The spear grazes empty air as she brings the hilt of her stolen sword crashing down on the man’s helmet, the impact echoing loudly. Without missing a beat, she spins toward another guard, her fist connecting squarely with his jaw. He stumbles back, clutching his face as she presses forward.
“Where’s your master hiding?” she taunts, her grin wide and wolfish. “Don’t tell me he’s too scared to greet his guest of honor.”
The air grows heavier with the tension of pursuit, guards hesitating as they hear her taunts, before charging into her path. Zeph moves through them wildly, each strike deliberate and devastating. Her blade flashes in the torchlight, its blunt end battering weapons aside as she fights.
She throws her head wantonly, freeing her golden locks from the sweat on her cheeks. “Karich!” she shouts again, her tone mocking.
A guard lunges, his spear aimed for her midsection. Zeph sidesteps with casual grace, the blade missing her by inches as she brings the hilt of her blade crashing into his shoulder. The man spins, colliding with a wall, his weapon clattering uselessly to the ground. She turns, catching another guard mid-swing. The butt of her silver revolver meeting his ribs with a sickening crunch. He falls, gasping for air on the cold stone floor.
Zeph’s breath comes sharp but steady, her feral grin unshaken.
From the shadows of a crumbling archway, Ablee Urough grins, her wide eyes locked on the spectacle. The girl’s wiry frame, coated in a thick layer of gray stone paint, blends seamlessly into the dim walls.
Ablee’s breath hitches as she watches Zeph dismantle Karich’s men with a grace that borders on artistry. The assassin’s movements are a language of their own, a dialogue of fluidity and force that Ablee can’t help but admire. "I need her on my crew," Ablee whispers. The admiration in her voice surprises even herself. Her arms hang at her sides, bare and streaked with dripping paint. Though her shackles are gone, the weight of her captivity lingers, a phantom pain digging into her wrists. She’s spent so long dreaming of her escape, of the strength it would take to stand against Karich’s men. Yet here is this stranger, moving through them as easily as a knife through silk.
Zeph parries another blow, catching her enemy’s weapon in a flash of sparks. With a flick of her wrists knocks the attacker off balance and brings her revolver in front of her and clangs it against his forehead like a door knocker, toppling him.
For a moment, Ablee forgets her mission entirely. Her anger at Karich, her longing for vengeance—it all blurs under the magnetism of Zeph’s raw skill.
The sharp echo of Zeph’s taunts is cut short by a low, silken voice dripping with mockery. “Ah, the so-called Future Queen of Assassins.” it purrs, slicing through the din of the keep. “What a reputation. So... theatrical.”
Zeph halts mid-step, her head snapping toward the voice. From the shadows at the end of the corridor, a figure emerges, tall and unnervingly gaunt. He wears porcelain mask gleams in the dim torchlight, its painted grin a parody of civility. The deep blue and gold of his cloak glimmers faintly as he walks with languid confidence. A polearm rests across his shoulders, its blade wickedly curved.
“Finally,” Zeph says, her grin widening. “I was starting to think I'd find no challenge here.” She raises the sword and shifts her stance.
"What was that?" He asks, leaning closer. Ablee's eyes narrow upon her father's subservient. “Rinval The Deaf” she mutters angrily, naming the man she once considered a friend, "You'll see no aid from me against this witch."
"I'm not going to repeat myself!" She shouts, as a subtle weight seeps into the air around her. It clings to her skin and wraps around her thoughts. Her grip on the sword feels a little less steady. She tries to shakes it off, lunging forward with a sweeping strike aimed at Rinval’s midsection.
His polearm spins, deflecting her blade with a resounding clang. His effortless counter leaves Zeph off-balance. How did he...
“Tsk,” Rinval chides, his voice soft yet piercing. “So much passion, so much fire—and yet, it burns carelessly.” His words slither into her mind, twisting her focus.
Zeph snarls, driving forward with another strike, this one heavier, angrier. Rinval parries again, his pole-arm twirling lazily.
Her swings grow wilder, her precision faltering as his words drip into her psyche. Ablee grits her teeth, "Come on lady, you can take him..."
“Tell me, loudly please,” he continues, his tone light but unyielding, “you don't really think you can topple a warlord, do you? You've over-extended yourself, Zeph."
“Shut it,” Zeph growls, her teeth gritted as she presses her attack. Her blade arcs again, but Rinval sidesteps, his polearm darting forward. Its razor-keen tip slides into her right shoulder, pulling a spray of crimson from the black fabric of her blouse. She stumbles back, cursing under her breath.
“Ah, there it is,” Rinval says, his tone turning almost playful. “A crack in the would be Queen’s facade.”
Zeph hisses, trying to ignore the wound. Her pain marries with the oppressive weight of Rinval’s words. Threatening to drown her focus. She glances at the nearest doorway, her mind racing.
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With a sudden burst of movement, she turns and sprints, her boots pounding against the stone. Rinval laughs, his footsteps calm and unhurried as he follows.
Zeph dives into an open chamber, then slams and bars its wooden door. Where is that acolyte? I need ammunition.
"Rhody!" she calls out. Her breaths coming faster. Her bloodied blouse clings tight to her skin as she rummages the room for any sort of advantage.
Rinval’s voice seeps beneath the door, low and steady. “Well that was easy. You'll find that room doesn't have any other exits. You planning to bleed out in there?” He pauses for a moment, "Huh?!"
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Rhody rushes through the keep, skidding to a stop at the edge of a junction. Her breath hitches as she presses herself against the cold stone wall. She peeks cautiously around the corner. Zeph's assailant leans against a wall, his porcelain mask leveled at a wooden cube he's working with his hands, twisting and reorienting sections of it. His unreadable visage and shimmering pole-arm send a chill down Rhody's spine.
Her hand darts to the red pouch hanging from her neck, fingers fumbling as she pulls out her Royal Tarot Deck. Her hands tremble as she quickly shuffles it, whispering a silent prayer to steady herself before drawing a card.
She turns it over, her breath catching. The Ace of Cups. Her heart sinks like a stone. A natural trump to Zeph’s Ace of Swords. If they fight, Zeph'll have an up-hill battle.
Her mind races, panic twisting through her chest. She scans the hall, desperate for a solution, and her eyes land on a doorway, leading to a chamber adjacent Zeph’s. An idea forms, shaky but solid enough to cling to.
Moving as silently as she can with her over-sized pack, Rhody trudges into the room and inspects the wall between her and the assassin. She can hear Zeph's labored breathing, and spots a small, paper-thin crack in the the wall's mortar. “Zeph,” she whispers. “It’s me. I’m here.”
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Inside, Zeph freezes at the faint sound of Rhody’s voice filtering through the wall. “Rhody!” she feels an ounce of relief, that quickly floods out her gushing chest-wound.
Ablee leans casually against the chamber's other wall, dripping with a fresh coat of stony paint. “That your kid?” she asks, her tone laced with curiosity and a hint of mischief.
Zeph spins, trying to spot the intrusive voice's source, Applause's barrel tracking with her eyes. Ablee waves a camouflaged hand, drawing Zeph's gaze, "Yoohoo!"
"How'd you get in here? Where's the hidden passage?" Zeph asks, trying to relay a calm demeanor, her empty revolver leveled at the girl.
Ablee laughs, "Closed behind me..."
"Bullshit, tell me, now!" A twinge crawls across Zeph's cheek, coaxed by her screaming shoulder.
Ablee treads toward her, "Alright fine, there's no secret door. I swam through that wall," she says, gesturing behind her.
Zeph groans, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand "Why do I find that more believable? If you don't have an exit for me, what are you doing here?"
"You were putting on a good show, until that jackalope Rinval got involved," Ablee scratches her chin, "You're here to kill my dad right?"
"Your Dad?" The revelation hits her and Zeph drops into a stance, "One more step and I'll shoot."
Ablee continues her advance, "That's not going to happen. Plus it'd be pretty dumb, I don't want to stop you."
"You... huh? I'm going to kill your Dad!" Zeph squints, trying to get a read on the girl.
Ablee nods, her cheeks rising in a smirk, "He's got it coming. Though now I'm not sure you and your kid are up it, you're looking a bit pale."
Zeph stumbles and rights herself, "I'm fine." she says through gritted teeth, frustration bleeding into her voice.
Ablee points to her shoulder, "Let me see it."
Hesitant, Zeph sighs and then holsters Applause. She pops the top two buttons of her blouse and lowers it, revealing her shoulders. A thin line along the right pumps repeated gushes of crimson down her chest. Ablee approaches her, palm extended. "Don't freak out," she says, and places her palm to the unblemished skin on the other side of Zeph's chest. It ripples, and Zeph's eyes widen as Ablee's hand pushes forward, disappearing beneath its surface. Ablee yanks her hand back out, and it's coated in silky white paint matching Zeph's skin-tone. "Wha-what in the-" Zeph stammers.
Ablee rolls her eyes and smears the paint along Zeph's stab-wound, leaving behind a patch of wet fresh skin, "That should hold you for a little bit."
Zeph’s eyes narrow as she studies Ablee, deeply suspicious. The girl’s painted form practically shimmers in the dim light, the stone coating on her skin lending her an otherworldly presence. Zeph doesn’t trust easily, and she’s not about to start now, but she could use this girl. "You said you can swim through walls?"
"Yep! What you got in mind?" Ablee asks, "I can't take you with me. You're going to have to walk out that door..."
"My acolyte, on the other side of the wall, she's got ammunition that I need."
"Oh, yeah no problem!" Without waiting for further instruction, she steps into the wall. The stone ripples as her form vanishes, leaving no trace of the intrusion.
Zeph stares at the now-empty space. Leaning against a nearby dresser, she takes a moment to weigh her options. This girl is reckless, sure, but there’s no denying her capability. Zeph doesn’t like working with wildcards, but the situation leaves her little choice.
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Rhody’s Royal Tarot Deck weighs heavily in her trembling hands as her wide eyes fix on the figure stepping through the wall. Ablee’s form gleams faintly, looking like a polished statue. This has to be Karich's brat we heard yammering on while we climbed. The voices are the same...
Instinct kicks in and Rhody draws a card. Turning it over, the face shimmers gold—a radiant, unreadable enigma. Her breath hitches. A rank outside her training. Her heart sinks at the implications. What the hell is this girl?
Ablee catches sight of Rhody’s stunned expression and grins, her teeth flashing in the dim light. “What?” she teases, crossing her arms with casual confidence. “Never seen a walking wall before?”
Rhody swallows hard, her throat dry. “You’re… One of the Urough kids...”
At the sound of her last name, Ablee’s grin falters, her eyes narrowing slightly. Her tone, once playful, turns sharp. “Yeah, Ablee Urough. What’s it to you?”
Rhody’s thoughts go to Zeph’s logbook, tucked in the bulging pack she carries. Her mind races. Ablee’s name is scrawled clearly among the list of marks, a future target that Zeph is slated to eliminate. The realization sends a shiver down Rhody’s spine, but she masks her thoughts quickly, tucking the revelation away for later. Her hands tighten around the deck, her expression neutral as she forces herself to focus.
“Nothing,” Rhody says after a pause, her voice quieter now. “Just… heard stories.”
Ablee’s grin returns. “Yeah, I bet! You heard the witch right? Gimme the bullets.”, she holds out her palm.
Rhody nods, grabbing a small wooden box with "44 Magnum" inked on its lid, and handing it to Ablee. The pressure of the situation weighs on her—not just the imminent danger, but the presence of this strange girl whose name lingers ominously in Zeph’s logbook.
Ablee gives her a curt nod before stepping back toward the wall. “Don’t wait too long to act, card girl,” Ablee says with a smirk. “Your boss out there doesn’t seem the patient type.”
Without another word, she vanishes into the stone, leaving Rhody clutching her deck and trying to piece together what comes next.
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Ablee strides back into Zeph's chamber, her stone-coated form gleaming faintly in the flickering torchlight. She holds up the box, "If I hand these over, you promise not to shoot my Daddy..." Zeph's face reddens, preparing to lambast this moron she'd trusted, but Ablee continues, "...Until after I've knocked his teeth out!"