Yet to be named, pt28

Late update, but I had to make the part somewhat rounded up! I hope you remember and like the new character, which I think deserved a longer part. Enjoy.

She turned from the window to look at the entrance. The door was wide open, the wardrobe on the ground, no longer able to stop the mob of drunk, angry townsmen. Two fell flat onto the makeshift barricade, likely the "battering rams" of the lot. Others were already painting and shouting at her.

Without further ado, she turned back to the alley. It was too high to jump down or onto the table roof. The only option was to go right. The top of that part of the inn was just below her. however, the tiles seemed steep and slippery. She didn't want to risk the jump.

What do, what do? She looked around the exterior wall. A wooden beam stuck out of the wall, going along the entire width of the alley below. That seemed to be the only way to go. And besides, she had no time to look for alternatives. She put her feet on the beam. It was barely enough for her to not fall. Almost a half of her feet was in the air. Don't think of the drop, that's what matters.

It was not a perfect time to go slowly given the people behind her, but she was almost certain she'd fall if she rushed along the beam. Still, the moment her feet were over the tiles, she dropped the half a metre dividing her and the roof and ran - or at least tried, the tiles were rather slippery - to the opposite end of the building. Behind her, shouts and insults were thrown at her from the window. At least none of them dared to follow her. that was a start.

But how was she supposed to get down on the ground? Now, nothing seemed like a good idea. nothing stuck out of the wall - well, besides the shutters directly below, but they couldn't possibly hold her weight. Maybe the inner side of the structure? She turned around to move over to the other side.

And then a mug got her under the knee.

What an awful coincidence. Those morons buzzing around their room decided it was a good idea to throw things at her, and the first thing they threw hit her almost perfectly! The mug was big and sturdy, so she failed to keep her balance on the steep roof and fell flat onto it. Worse yet, she was sliding off. She tried to grab the tiles to break the fall, but to no effect. Their laughs came to her ears. Great. Escape the undead twice to die to a mug. Just wonderful.

Her feet went off the edge. Then the rest of her legs. Then her torso and head.

At the last second, her hands grasped a drain pipe. she held on to it with all her strength.

She was too heavy. The pipe gave way and she continued her fall. Only for a moment. The farther end of the pipe appeared stronger than the other and still hung on to its spot. The stop was rather sudden, though. For a moment, she thought her arms would just tear off her body. She cringed her teeth, but opened her eyes to find a way further down.

As luck would have it, she could look right into the room with open shutters.

What she saw made her wish she just jumped down onto the ground.

A beautiful woman in an long, sleeveless black dress was standing by a desk tucked at the corner. She virtually couldn't describe her differently. Her long black hair fell in cascades below her shoulder blades, and her face was blessed with the most perfect smile. She clearly took pleasure in what she was doing.

What she was doing was apparently a necromantic ritual. All the furniture was pushed to the walls. A big circle, decorated with lots of strange, curved symbols, was painted on the ground with blood. The blood of a waitress, lying by the door, her stomach sliced open. She could see her innards, and that made her stomach tremble. Was she painting with her fingers? The lady's arm was covered in blood all the way up to the elbow, with a single droplet hanging on to her curled index finger.

Inside the circle stood a set of black armour. Compared to her dress, it was simple dark grey, but on its own it was most certainly black. And empty. Just standing right at the center of the circle.

And then it budged. Came to life. The symbols lit up, emanating with energy. Shirral could feel the magic pulsate in the air. The armour was coming back to life, and it would soon be home to something so vile she didn't dare think what.

The moment, so brief yet so full of emotions, had passed. The noise alarmed the lady. Her smile was gone in an instant, replaced by a grimace of anger that exposed her lengthened vampire teeth. Still, it looked beautiful, in a way. She pulled her blooded arm back, forming her fingers as if she held a small round object. Flames came out of thin air, forming around her hand. She hurled the fireball forward, right out of the window.

Again, it all happened in a brief moment. Shirral was to shocked to react. Thankfully, the pipe took over the initiative and finally gave up, letting her drop further down. The fireball merely heated her fingers as it passed overhead and spiralled into a building further down the road.