Sofie checked both of her swords, one against her left hip and another against her right. She drew the blackened sword from its holding. The runes were already glowing white. She looked around for a suitable place to put it. She sighed: She was in the top of one of the guard towers of the city, whose wall – facing inwards- had been blown apart, so that it provided a good vantage point. There was a desk in the corner opposite this wall, and the floor in the centre opened into a trap-door and spiral staircase to ground level. In front of the desk was a table, entirely empty, and through this she stuck the sword.
The glow of the runes reached its climax. A shape began to form; the wailing, dead face appeared first, rising out of the grip of the blade, and dragging with it a tattered white dress. The banshee hovered above the blade, occasionally falling out of shape.
"Why are you here?" Sofie growled at it. The banshee backed up, and raised a hand to her mouth in fake shock.
"What are you so afraid of? I want to help…"
"You're spying on me!" Sofie declared, pounding one of the intact stone walls with her fist. It bent outwards, with the brick that was the centre of the impact collapsing into a fist-shaped wound.
"No, no!" The banshee called again. Her voice was the same as any banshees'; calm and inviting, of a young woman in her prime. It was louder, though, with genuine conviction. "The Count did not send me. I came alone, you see-" Sofie was advancing on the sword now, unconvinced,"-The voice that called to you! At the ball; it was me! I want to help you!" The Vampire paused and eyed up the apparition beneath her helmet.
"How?" She mused.
"I don't know." The Banshee confessed. "Tell me what you learned, so far…"
Sofie itched the back of her neck thoughtfully. She turned and sat with her legs hanging from the blown-out wall, and she watched over the skyline. Beneath her feet began a trail of rooftops, so close as to be almost connected, which ran for two hundred metres or so before stopping. Many such paths of roofs were visible; the homes of the residents before the calamity.
To the East, almost concealed by the remainder of the wall on Sofie's left, there was a long hill which housed the Noble sector. It was all larger, more well-kept houses than the ones beneath Sofie, where the more privileged of Mordheim's society may once have lived. None of that interested her, though – but it did give her a sadistic pleasure to think that these pigs were probably the first to die in the current circumstances. No, she focussed on her target; the great spire of the Sisterhood Chapel which rose from the middle of the noble sector, its great golden bell like a beacon for the rest of the city to follow.
The banshee had been hovering patiently whilst her charge took in her surroundings. Sofie turned around and sighed.
"You want to help me?"
"Yes." She answered simply.
"The Imperials – I don't know who they are - want to raid the Chapel, over there."
"Ah, so your chapel?"
Sofie seethed; "No." The Banshee lowered her head. Sofie continued, "There's a lot of wyrdstone there, so they say. They plan to use the sewers."
"Wyrdstone, yes," The Banshee confirmed, "I have been out getting a feel for the environment myself. The Sisterhood are locking the items away…"
"I plan to follow them," The Vampire spoke with certainty, drawing her other sword – a rather normal, silver bastard sword. It would've been a burden to a human, but Sofie's enhanced strength let her wield it like a short-sword.
"Why follow when you can overtake?" The Banshee mused. She stroked her chin thoughtfully – or, at least, her flickering image did – and floated with supernatural grace besides Sofie. She unwrapped one of her hands from behind her back and pointed a crooked finger at the chapel. Sofie followed her finger and then looked at her suggestively.
"Yes. Go. I will be with you, do not fret." The siren's hand dropped and caressed Sofie's other sword and it hummed in response.
Sofie smirked, taking a few steps back before breaking into a stride and jumping the gap cleanly. Landing on a rooftop, and crushing some tiles into shards underfoot as she did, she broke into a sprint towards the chapel. Stealth was no necessity for her, she'd decided; with her speed there was nothing onlookers could do to stop her even if they could see her. The chapel was getting closer now. The fine bronze décor that framed the white marble stone was now in view, and the scenes portrayed by the two large stone-glass windows on the side facing the Vampire could be made out.
She stopped, suddenly, at the end of the nearest roof-top to the perimeter fence. She wasn't sure why she stopped, but there was a certain gravitas about… something in front of her. She poked her foot forward, like a swimmer testing the waters. When she felt something force her backwards, and felt her stomach churn, she pulled back.
"Banshee." She called into the night. Her sword hummed more violently and a voice, sharp with impatience, answered back;
"What is it, dear? You know I won't always be here to guide y-"
"Yes, I know," The Vampire spoke hastily, insulted. "What is it?"
"Oh, it appears to be a ward, of some description." The banshee observed with an objective detachment. Then she spoke again, and this time her voice was cold and patronising; "Perhaps you should have foreseen this, Sister."
"How do I break through?" She felt her courage melt. The fact that she had to ask a spirit for aid – one who's identity she didn't even know – about such personal matters was an insult in and of itself.
"No doubt there is something on the Sisters that let them pass – something you now lack, given your new attire. Give me a second, I will see if any of them are out past their… curfew." She chuckled to herself. Then, the hum of the sword began to fade in time with the voice until there was only a silence in Sofie's head.
Sofie waited atop the roof, crouched with her palms between her legs in one corner, so that she looked like a gargoyle atop some old gothic church. She could hear voices beneath and behind her, but they were getting louder steadily.
Obviously she had indeed been seen. There were some that were pursuing her. She hadn't yet adapted to her hearing; their voices were loud, but she couldn't guess as to how far away they were. What she could tell for certain was that the voices on either side of the building were different. There were quiet, wary mutterings on the left, and they were emburdened by a crude, brittle voice. There were Imperials there, she assumed.
Those on the right were… different. They were careless, yelling and then falling to murmurs with no rhyme or rhythm. The voice which dominated the rest of the group was deep and guttural, but distinctly human. It barked orders in senile wails that made Sofie's ears twitch with each repetition. She didn't know who they were.
But they were getting close. Sofie cursed, demanding the Banshee's return, and as if on-cue she felt a weak vibration along her thigh.
"I have found a target."