Red Death Operative's Story

Rain threw up a pale mist in the fading day. Torchlight became golden orbs in the gloom, dancing in the enchanted braziers at the whim of the wind, as raindrops pelted down in fine almost frozen shards.

The figure was a mere smudge, black on black against the wall, as she slipped down to scurry unseen between the Vulten guards. To normal sight, the thief seemed a flicker at the corner of the eye, a dancing shadow on the wall or floor.

The Vulten were well known for their female-dominated society, and the brutality of their elite warriors, the Freyas. The shadow slipped by two such soldiers in gleaming plate and fine scale mail, their wickedly shaped halberds and heavy pistols of little concern to the thief. After what seemed like miles of rose-colored marble and cathedral ceilings, the shadow finally reached her target. The room was dark, swords and other bladed weapons resting in racks, rifles and pistols in cases and lockers. In the center of the room was a pedestal, a single light illuminating a slightly curved blade of what looked to be a scarlet liquid.

The shadow peeled away from the wall, colors and features filling in the form of a lithe woman, skin like porcelain and hair like ebony. Her crimson eyes nearly glowed in the darkness, as she crept up to the blood sword, pale fingers wrapping around the black leather grip. She hesitated a beat, as alarms rang out in warning of attack. Perfect timing, the diversion would keep most of the guards from stopping her exit. Without wasting time, she slipped the sword into its sheath, and strapped the sheath to her back, just in time to face the guards that rushed into the room.

The first guard, a woman thick with muscle, stabbed forward, driving her spear with enchantment enhanced speed, aiming to drive the demoness back. Too slow, the guard was unable to stop the shadow from throwing herself into a slide that carried her under and past the guards into the hall. The thief rolled back to her feet and into a run without losing any momentum as more alarms began to ring out though the palace and city streets.

A Freya blocked the hall, her wings spread to prevent passage as she fired twin sunripper pistols. The hissing roar of the chain revolvers deafening in the high-ceilinged palace, but if it bothered the shadow, she showed no sign of it. Instead, she ducked to the side, drawing a tiny dagger as the marble pillar behind her exploded. Time slowed as the shadow darted forward and jabbed her blade into the gap between the Freya's handplate and armguard. She could see the individual droplets as she retracted and whirled to administer an identical attack to the other wrist. Time snapped back to normal as the shadow continued past and crimson painted the walls and floor. Freyas were not defeated so easily, but by the time the armored woman spun to pursue, the demoness was gone.

The pale woman finally found a window, as she gulped air in an attempt to recover from the heavy magic usage. Luckily, she was able to twist and slip out the window, a feat that would be impossible for the Vulten to mimic.

The night sky was teaming with the winged guards and aerial vehicles, and the shadow could see the rest of her team escaping. With a smirk, she threw a cloak over her prize and disappeared over the wall, the rain covering her passage.