She snorted softly, and hefted the wrist-blades that were her weapons. Nodding to Annor, the Rogue with the bow, she opened the door in her way, ignoring the bit of slime on the handle.
She knelt in the center of the empty room to pick the lock of the chest. No telltale signs of traps, this time. Lifting the lid, she smiled and pocketed the tiny ring inside. Deckard Cain would know what it was.
Peering out the door, the two continued along the maze of corridors and rooms, turns and dead ends. These … things … could be anywhere, she knew, and she didn't wish to risk even a single one surviving. She had taken on this duty, and by the Gods she'd clean this place out so the Sisters could have their temple back.
She was determined, yes; but not perfect. Her ears missed the fainter footfalls, and a door opening behind her. Finally turning, the assassin realized Annor wasn't behind her.
She hurried back the way she'd gone, noting the door halfway open. Peeking in, she saw the Rogue lying on the floor. She rushed to the woman's side, ignoring the blood pooling on the floor and kneeling. No breath. The woman was dead.
She'd gotten her shots in, though; she could smell the trappings of the magics on the bow her friend carried. She placed her weapons in her belt and reached for the companion that had likely saved her hide a few times with a well-placed shot.
This time, she caught the noise, and her eyes slid up as her hands instinctively went for her weapons. She already muttered the cadence and words focusing her mind, and the spell of magic and speed flooded her.
She looked up at the biggest spider she'd ever seen. Arach, she thought. Figures. Likely its poison had gotten to her friend; she was lucky it hadn't gotten the chance to start in on its meal yet.
Predator and prey stared at each other a brief moment, then both exploded into action. The Arach was quick, the silent assassin noted. That was all right. She was quicker.