Heavy footsteps thudded against the cobblestone as Axley led the pack through the streets of town, but she couldn't even hear them over the raining mortars and screams of the public. She could have sworn she could hear the occasional jeer of some sinister force as well, but she simply did not have time to even think about that possibility. Axley rounded a corner, looking to lead them down a narrow alleyway to take a quick shortcut, but came to a screeching halt as they were accosted by four armed warriors...one looking far more dangerous than the rest. Luckily, it seemed the female had absolutely no interest in them at all; granted, three trained foot soldiers was a bad bet for them regardless. Axley had almost no real combat training, and had rudimentary swordplay practice in her lessons in self-defense most bards decided to undergo. Everything else was learned on the fly, often to deal with hecklers or particularly drunk and randy pub-goers.

But this...this was far more real. Were she to fail here, she'd lose a lot more than dignity. Sparrow and Fergus seemed capable of handling their own, but the third soldier was more confident in the others, stepping to the two females with a particularly disconcerting leer in his eye. He went for Cilia first; Axley took the opportunity to slink around him in a flanking maneuver as he engaged her friend, silently thankful Cilia knew enough to distract the man and keep herself alive. She nearly cried out for her as she watched the blade cut into Cilia's flesh, but the flying book gave her just enough time to get behind the assailant while he was momentarily distracted by the pain of the heavy bound cover smacking into his face. It looked like it stung, but it wouldn't for long; she had to act fast.

An unexpected kick to the undead's back leg sent him to one knee as he tried to turn to deal with the new threat. Axley didn't give him the chance to recover; another kick, now to his back, put him on his hands and knees for the briefest of moments. Pure adrenaline kept Axley moving; in a single motion she strode forward, foot coming down hard on a leg to keep the soldier from rising before drawing her ceremonial blade. The warrior was not heavily armored, luckily; her blade, she knew, wouldn't be able to take many jarring shots, even though she'd had it sharpened for some form of combat. With a single heavy stab downwards, the blade skewered the undead's chest, uncleanly spattering blood over her bard's outfit as she had to forcibly yank the blade from the undead's body as it stuck fast. She didn't even know if she'd hit anything vital, or if an undead could shake it off and laugh before continuing the assault. She had to keep moving; the others had started to take off again and she'd be left behind if she dawdled. With a rush of adrenaline-fueled speed, Axley bolted back to the group, gasping for breath as she did her best to lead them once more. She had just taken her first 'life'...but her own was still on the line.