Serphia was like a ghost in the smoke, Arloke a silken turret of webs from his hiding place on top of the rafters. Keeping her body low and her swipes even lower, she went for ankles, Achilles tendons, and the back of the knees. Some of the men's thick hide boots protected the ankles and calves from attacks but even the plate armor did nothing for the back of the knees. Her dagger found one as the guard attempted to strike at where Arloke was previously. He cried out as he twisted, that leg no longer willing to work for him and extended out to his side as his hand dropped to the now deep gash in the back of his leg. The assassin didn't wait as she drove the dagger into the side of his neck, violently ripping it forward and out. The knight gurgled as he fell to his knees then to the ground. One down. 

Three more to go. Or rather two more. She watched for a moment as the mage tackled the man closest to the fireplace, slamming the man's head onto the stone floor three times over before equipping himself with the man's discarded sword. She allowed her eyebrow to rise at the sight before a small smile crossed her lips. Perhaps he would be more useful than she had originally intended. It would seem he would be learning her name after all. Assuming they could get out of the smoke and get some fresh air again before they suffocated.

Sephria tried to cover her mouth with her hand, taking a moment to catch her breath but coughing lightly as her breathing came in quick and harsh. This smoke was truly becoming a problem for her as she dove under the table to avoid a strike from the last guards. Adrenaline had her heart racing like a drum and she had to cover her mouth with the bottom of her tunic so she could get even a meager breath without inhaling smoke. She blinked fiercely, trying to force the water from her eyes. She rubbed at her eyes and cheeks, smearing soot into her face. 

The last two guards lunged towards Serphia under the table. One plunged his sword in quickly. She twisted away, the sharp edge of the blade cutting into her side, slashing her tunic and her skin underneath. She hissed out but ignored the strike as she slid out from under the wooden trap. She danced between the two men, bounding from one foot to the other. 

As Malcador struck at the other guard, she dodged a stab towards her from the last one. She ducked under the thrust, grabbing a hold of the man’s wrist as she did so. She twisted her body into the man. She pulled his arm over her shoulder and with a grunt of effort, flung him over her shoulder and slammed him, back first, into the table. His breath left him with an audible “oomf” and she dropped down, pulling on the man's arm with all her weight and the momentum. A sickening crack sounded as his elbow bent the wrong way over the edge of the table and he cried out with what little breath he had left as his sword clattered to the ground. She picked up the blade in her free hand and used it to stab into the man's gut, pinning him to the table.

At Malcador’s call for them to retreat, she sprang on top of the table, blade whirling around ready for another attack. When none came, she took a moment to close her eyes and listen. The only sounds she could hear were Malcador’s footfalls, Arloke’s scuttering and the pained groans of the man pinned to the table next to her. When the wizard called again for their escape, she dropped off the table and followed his lead. As they drew closer to the door, Serphia ducked under the man’s arms, pushing his blade up before dropping her shoulder. She slammed into the doorway, the momentum flinging it open as they barreled through. She gasped loudly as they were finally exposed to fresh air. Taking large gulps of air and bracing herself on her knees, she bent at the waist as she tried to catch her breath. She remained like that for only a moment before straightening, feeling the familiar crawling sensation as Arloke crawled onto her back and settled himself there once more. Before they could waste any more time, she sheathed her dagger and reached into her pocket to withdraw the large ball of spider silk she had stored there previously. She grabbed the sword away from Malcador before she replaced it with the silken ball. That being done, she peered around at their surroundings. 

They were in a small courtyard, low walls encasing the grassy hillock. To their right sat a path that led off to somewhere else, Serphia assuming it was the town below. The night sky was clear and she could smell the sea on the breeze that caused the flags along the walls to flap enthusiastically. Off in the distance she could see the movement of guards on patrol. She frowned, as she took the sword she had taken from the wizard and pulled it up in a guard defense. They didn’t seem to have noticed the two yet but it wouldn’t be long until they did. 

“Time to go, Malcador.” She said quietly, flicking her purple eyes to the wizard.