All: Your feet grow weary as the day’s march comes to an end. By your estimates, you are no more than a few minutes from your intended destination. You are part of an elite force of only a handful of agents. Your target, known to you by a codename, “The Gold Man”, is a man who resides somewhere on the outskirts of Estolad. He has a private manor house in the hill country, a very quaint place that he technically owns, but which was managed and kept up by his late mother. Before her death, she enlisted some wealthy contacts to continue to aid her son once she was gone. Now that she is dead, her dim-witted son is open for persuasion. Whoever sways him to their side could have an invaluable source of income.

Your objective is to infiltrate the house without being detected by the guards, who are constantly patrolling the halls and the grounds. The servants are also sleeping on the lower level of the house, so be careful not to wake them. You must find information on anyone else who may wish to sway the wealthy noble, and discern how best to disrupt their plans. You do not need to interact with the noble; the Concordance has arranged for diplomats to see to that after you have ensured that no one else will contact him.

OOC to All: Little is known at this time about the man or who might wish to contact him. This topic is all about getting information. The action will come at a later time once these initial objectives are complete.

Lomedor at these late hours was a treacherous place to be. The stench of daily living filled the streets, and the buildings loomed in all their rigid indifference. The drab scenery was occasionally dotted by a moving outline at the corner of your eye, or the coughing of some homeless mutt. Walking down the streets was eerie, for it held none of the life or vibrancy the day brought with it. There were no playing children or busy vendors, merely a long path that could have led to eternity and back.

Which was why Nathaniel was currently breathing deep of the rich air and letting a calmness massage his shoulders. Or so he convinced himself. The Salquedor Grasslands at night were a beauty to behold. From the timid nudges by lengths of grass to the ambient life of crickets and hustling mice, this place could not be called drab or dead. Everything seemed full of music, an ancient beat that moved the spirit and called to light even the most questionable of voices. It was beneficial that he suffered from no lack of attention, or else the fluttering fireflies, in all their bright envy, might have bade him abandon his mission to instead smile back.

It was no surprise that the grass might be timid, to hold such delights from the greedy views of outsiders! Even the air tasted crisper than he remembered, like a fresh apple pulled just as morning dew subsided. Slightly chilled, but not frozen. It was a far cry from what he'd seen during the day, when tall trees offered mundane shade and the occasional rabbit may be spied trotting along. Why would it be more grand, though? Such beasts were promised lives of length; perhaps not that of humans, but still a mighty cry from the dark crickets serenading their lovers. Such things had only a short time before their demise, and so they filled their nights with bright lights and sounds. How envious the bards of Wilwarin would be!

Pausing, Nathaniel willed his feet to stop in their jovial pursuit of teasing the ground, instead standing firm. The sound of the others failed to cease however, and though he was with despicable company his mood failed to sour. Yet more breath he dared to steal from this moment, taking all that he could of the hidden pleasure. When he exhaled it was with great relief, his chest heaving inwards. So, spring has truly set. Somewhere an owl hooted, complimenting his realization. No longer did his breath hang like some foreign spirit of the dead; as ever, it was ignored by the greater portion of Ardians once more.

Turning slightly, he let the world present present anew his companions. Like a babe all was foreign, and there was to be some joy found in seeing if his allies reacted the same. Allies... what a funny word. Never would he have imagined such a group as such, and yet here they were all the same. He could still recall the echo of a memory, the moment of intrigue when Tithdaeron had summoned him. The chaos elemental was likely the only one he cared for in the whole of the guild, and as such the summoning could not go unheard. The offer, too, had been tantalizing; a task requiring finesse and ability, as opposed to brute strength. He might have asked how much the opportunity would cost.

But then he'd learned, hadn't he? The group was to be comprised of four, and naturally that included two members he had little interest in. The first was a drow; a frightening man to behold; not only was he taller than Nathaniel (who was rather tall himself), but he featured twin red eyes. It didn't seem as though there was much that could more clearly label another as a villain; which was all he would have treated him as in the streets. But here... here there was a need for wisdom. Instead he'd offered to shake the foul thing's hand, given a polite smile and respectful nod. He'd asked his name, and gave his own. Such were the diplomatic pursuits of assuring an ally; one he'd be sure to back stab as soon as he was through with the Shadovar.

The other was possibly even worse. A large, grotesque mutt who mockingly endeavored to imitate humans. He walked upon all fours, spoke the common tongue, and even wore a gray pelt, as if he were merely another common wolf. That was the illusion, wasn't it? That the fang-toothed dog was ordinary, and fitted in with society.

Nathaniel was not foolish enough to fall for such blatant attempts. As with the drow, he intended to finish him off if the chance arose. He'd offered a certain pact regarding lupines to Quess, and indeed hoped to follow it -- but this walking mockery was too much an eyesore to bare. Yet, again he played the kind diplomat. Asked his name, asked if he had ever met the white lupine he held as a nemesis, or the terribly determined wretch Ita. Or who claimed to be as much, in any case. He exchanged names, and smiles, and even afforded some genuine interest in the mutt's lynx. Thankfully he'd gotten away with not having to shake the no-doubt greasy, flea-infested and disease ridden paw of the creature.

Did lupines even shake hands? The rowdiest of drunks claimed they sniffed one another's rears for such things, though the same drunks would tell you that half-bear half-owl things were in the woods. Really, they needed to be a little more realistic with their lies if they were going to fool anyone. "We're not far. Come on Tithdaeron, we'll go ahead." That had been the other benefit of the meeting; they'd actually managed to discuss a plan. It was difficult without any firm information on the place or the patrol units, but such was to be expected for a task as important as this. Ultimately they'd come to the conclusion of breaking up into two teams, in hopes of traveling faster. A few key words and insignias were handed out, which Nathaniel feigned a lack of interest in (his poor literacy skills simply wouldn't help him in gathering sufficient documents), and of course the matter of getting in.

That discussion had been interesting. As hard as it'd been to put up with the chance of the drow spilling his giblets and the wolf passing on some contagious disease, the methods of entry had forced the admittance of certain skills. Though it was obvious no one laid all their cards on the table (and he'd been forced to share a few of his own, unfortunately), it at least gave him some idea of what abilities they possessed. From as far as he could understand, the drow was a spellcaster and the mutt some sort of wolf-spider. Besides that he knew little, and would likely fail to learn more than that; they had branched into two teams to increase effectiveness, and that had involved him pairing with Tithdaeron. It would be a lie to say the prospect wasn't seducing in its allure.

All day he'd been forced to endure their company, of course. The march had been droning and monotonous, his feet kept step while his mind wandered off course. In the light of the setting sun he'd waited for the revelation of daggers, only to be thankfully spared. Either they too were biding their time, or they foolishly believed themselves safe. Regardless, the journey had been mundane at best. Nathaniel hadn't done any talking, content with what interactions he'd had at the elemental's summoning. He didn't even stew over the upcoming details; a poor choice, but it was hard to ignore the lack of liquor on the travel. When the sun had finally sunk and the target seemed within range, it'd been hard not to smother the earth with kisses of praise.

Another cry from the owl sounded, and then the rustling of leaves as it dove from its spot. Some mouse let out a soundless cry as Nathaniel gave his own grunt, body swimming with pain. He almost appeared to be hyperventilating, his arms and chest bulging and then collapsing upon itself. Flesh tore and clothing folded in on itself, until a white daze descended upon his vision. When it cleared he was no longer slightly shorter than the drow -- he was less than half as tall as him. Yet he was still as long as a human, even if he was far more slender in appearance. No longer was Nathaniel Rystoff ready to attack; now a cougar crouched low in the land, waiting for the go ahead from Tithdaeron to begin moving.

Unlike the predator, he didn't have the capabilities to hide himself in plain sight. Instead, Nathaniel was left to rely on the capabilities of changing form. Though a bird may have been easier, this form afforded him greater night vision and an easier manner of camouflage. It may have been better off imitating the lynx, but if confronted this form could at least withstand a few hits before he'd be forced into retreating. Besides, it was only being used so he could get closer to their target. Once there, he would scan out any guards this form let him hear, and use his abilities to check their own magical prowess. If it was unremarkable he would simply slip by them, phasing through the wall to gain entrance and then opening it to let the cat of the dog in. Poor thing. Though he may despise most animals, his days at sea had injected a fondness for felines into his heart.

Nathaniel let his claws extend, massaging the ground with them as he adjusted to the form. Everything was that much more clear; that much more obvious. Fallen stalks of grass seemed to weave a dark path ahead for him, though even without the piercing gaze of stars above he thought he may see through it. The soft shudders brought on by wind so carelessly brushing along his fur was new, along with the distinct smell of dead rabbits and owls. Even his stomach felt abnormally uncomfortable, as if his insides had been played around with. It was somewhat natural, considering his dark cloak, cape and dagger had all been drawn within as his body folded upon itself. Yet still it left his mouth feeling that much more dry. The whiskers itched as well, though that was something he could ignore more readily.

Golden eyes glanced one last time to the chaos elemental. Then the large cat stalked through the brush, body low to the ground and almost invisible amidst the greens and yellows of the grasslands and the unlit night. Mud embedding itself in his toenails was a new feeling, but other wise it seemed this choice was perfect. Anything else and he might have risked being devoured by another nocturnal predator. A swinging tail and slightly disturbed grass was all he left in his wake. And then; silence. Not a breath from the cat, or a gesture from the grass. Tasting the low air, the overgrown house cat inhaled the air, the smell slightly more bitter at such a close range. Perhaps the patrol was nearby, and he could pinpoint them through his sense of alertness alone. From there, he would slip to the door, change forms, and phase through. A daunting task; which led to his focusing solely on pinpointing right now.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Simple. Effective. Simple.

Back pressed against a wall, arms crossed, Thindraug stood stone still as a patrolling guardsman walked only a few feet away from him. Expression placid, breathing calm, if anyone was actually capable of seeing him he'd appear as undisturbed as if he owned the place. But nay, it was not he who called this house a home, it was The Gold Man. Another minute passed in this manner before the guard disappeared around a corner away from sight. Reaching a hand into a pocket that appeared on the face of his leathers, the lupine became visible once more. Extracting two sets of curious dagger-like objects, he turned and tested the wall against the keen tip of a piton. With great force he was able to slide one in between the brick and mortar at eye level, leaving little visible damage to the wall itself. It was always slower to get started, it seemed, but he had another twenty minutes before a guard's rotation would bring anyone to the back of the house where he stood. Twenty minutes would be plenty of time.

Communicating a simple thought-image to Tuiol, the small root golem disappeared from around his wrist and moved into torques position, wrapping around his chest and shoulders where it would be more useful and out of the way of his nimble hands. He then handed the golem two of his three unused pitons and asked him, wordlessly, to hold them. Tuiol obliged, completing the last of his minimal preparations. Working quickly, he extended his right arm as far as he could and slipped a second piton into the side of the building. Pulling upward with his right while leaning and pushing on the left piton, his foot paws lifted from the ground with a slow and practiced pace. It took an incredible upper body strength to scale a wall like this in free-form without foot holds or even any rope to secure him should he fall, and his face reflected the concentration with the grimace of strain. When he was high enough, right arm at his right shoulder supporting most of his weight, he quickly extracted the lower piton from the wall and extended his left arm high above him. In this steady manner he vertically scaled the wall, never hanging by a single hand for more than a heart beat.

After many grueling minutes, he hung next to a window on the uppermost story. Tuiol slid down his arm and dropped onto the window sill to peek inside. With no one in sight, Thindraug let out a sigh of relief as he slipped his foot over and finally touched down on the stone sill. Balanced on a surface that was far too precarious for most to stand upon without falling, he reached over and pulled his pitons out of the wall. His arms were tired and his breathing heavy, so he took a moment to rest as Tuiol climbed up his leg, pitons still in tow. He hadn't needed the extras this this time, but he was never unprepared. The root-creature scaled him in a manner similar to how he had just climbed the wall, clinging to his clothes as if mocking him slightly. He would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't busy focusing on not falling off the ledge of a window. But the small crab-like creature was a dutiful friend and packed away his pitons for him, urging his leathers to shift again and produce a storage pouch. It took the pitons in his left hand as well and packed them away before fishing out his tool kit from another shifting pouch.

Once thanked, Tuiol returned to torques position while Thindraug crouched, cautiously balanced on what was nearly only his toes, and set to work inspecting the window. Fortune was with him tonight, the window had a simple inside latch at the middle of two halves whose function was merely to keep the windows closed. First he took a thin flask from his kit, whose tip was thin and pointed, and dripped oil onto the hinges that allowed the two panes to open. This would ensure that there would be as little squealing of moving parts as possible. Then he produced a delicate, hooked metal tool, slid it between the two panes, pushed up, and as simple as that the latch lifted and spun on its hinge to escape the adjacent loop-clasp. Turning the tool sideways he was able to grasp the window and pull as he scooted out of the way. It opened soundlessly as he grinned, satisfied with a job well done.

Tucking his kit away into another mysterious pouch in his leathers, he quickly slipped inside to survey his surroundings. It was still too dark for him to make out much before his eyes adjusted, but he was at least back on solid ground. He would wait here until the next guard passed the back side of the house, biding his time by taking the ropes from the pack on his back and tying them together and around himself. When it was time, he would lower them out the window and serve as an anchor for the partner that would be joining him shortly.

Tithdaeron stood in the nigh impenetrable dark of the forest's edge at night observing the proceedings. Arms crossed and head high, the creature carefully took in what details he could of the structure of the house. The chaos elemental supposed he would have the easiest time at waltzing into the house. However, cautious as a serpent, the wily predator knew better then to just go walking about even when invisible.

He had studied and practiced an improved technique that made it more difficult for detection from other magic users. This didn't ensure a air-tight guise. The Golden Man, as his codename suggested, had more than enough resources to hire the best of the best if he so chose. Whether or not he actually did hire the best likely rested on if he had any suspicions on his life.

Tithdaeron did not suppose the Golden Man was suspicious of much. From the intel gathered by reconnaissance units, and general knowledge acquired from drunk locals...
Well, this man may have been gold, but he wasn't sharp.

Gaurds meandered in around and within the house, most of which were the stereotypical armor clad spear toting sort. The chaos elemental was somewhat dissapointed at this. Generally cliched security staff didn't offer much of a challenge.
Then again, these could be more dangerous prey disguised as weak prey. Tithdaeron smiled.

Nathaniel was alongside the predator, also pondering over how to make his entry. The pair knew each other's skills somewhat well, and Tithdaeron was prepared to scout ahead for his partner. However, the human had insisted that it wasn't going to be completely necessary. Tithaeron was curious over this, but decided patience was best. Better to be discreet, especially in the company of a drow. The lupine was not so much of a worry.

Without word or signal, suddenly the body of the human mastermind began to do strange things. It tore itself apart and mended back together, bones could be heard bending and shrinking in a queer display of magical transformation. Tithdaeron knew the feeling well, although he had long since gotten used to it. But since when was Nathaniel a shapeshifter?

The chaos elemental supposed it was possible to use a spell to change form. It was never a point to find out, as it had always been a natural part of him.

Nathaniel soon was a panther, and fumbled around for a moment. Getting used to the finely toned muscle and sinew, the super sharp vision and hearing. There was always a brief moment of disorientation involved with becoming a different organism.
Panther Nathaniel glanced back to Tithdaeron, and then stalked into the brush.

Stormy and edgy eyes watched the black, silent form trace it's way through the meadow grass and root stalks. The lithe feline stopped in it's tracks and hunkered low to the ground. Tithdaeron scanned the horizon for a gaurd, and saw a pair of them round the corner of the house nearest Nathaniel.

They were speaking in hushed, barely audible tones. Simple idle chatter to make the night pass quickly. Neither one was really paying any attention, but wouldn't have seen the near perfectly camouflaged intruder.

Tithdaeron decided to set to work. Boots were removed from feet, and cloak discarded. All that was left was a close fitting black silk suit. The less weight, the less noise. A Katar was the only weapon he carried, strapped to his left hand. The trusty hidden blade had been his faithful executioner for quite some time. As a fright factor, the elemental only sharpened it. Never cleaned it. Bits of flesh could be seen stuck onto the steel, imprisoned by dried blood.

He was not worried about being spotted by the patrol. Tithdaeron stepped out from his hiding place, but nobody with the naked eye would notice. The chaos elemental placed a magical effect on himself. It was to prevent others from seeing him without any magical aid. And unless the pursuer was skilled in detection from the start, the likeliness of this cunning and devious intruder getting caught was slim.

That's were Nathaniel came in. He had trained himself to know whether or not certain people were using magic. If he detected a gaurd with such a state, he would alert Tithdaeron. Naturally, the elemental would then resort to more conventional methods of espionage. Stepping carefully through the switch grass, the elemental tailed his currently feline ally.

Aksinya had been jilted. A new member of the concordance, sleeping happily in the middle of the day, until she was suddenly alerted to the fact that she was on a mission. Did she have a choice? Not a one, unless she wanted to be pushed out of the organization upon joining it. She rushed out the doors, and trailed after the troop, staying slightly back. Her mind flew through the rumors on each man before her. The one they called Tithdaeron, a legendarily unpredictable and explosive creature. The rest she knew not, but likely knew in name. The mutt-rauko slid a smile across her concealed face, and she considered the mission ahead.

-----

They met in Estolad, before the game they were to play.

"I am Akinsya, the replacement for the drow called Nafalen. I hope I'll measure up." She murmured. This mission was plausibly too high-brow for such a young lady, she believed.

-----

The un-hospitable young rauko followed the lupine, still unnoticed for all of her time following them. It was night, a gentle breeze masked the minuscule noise of her movements, the shallow breaths she breathed. Her form was wreathed in taut cloth and a fine leather breastplate, and a long knife was strapped to each leg. The weapons had their blades darkened by charcoal, dulling the sheen of the normally radiant weapons. Her hair had also garnered the treatment of ebony hair-dye that she always kept with her in her selection of thieves tools.

Her eyes traced across her compatriots yet again, following them to the outskirts of Estolad. A large manse lay before them, and her mind drifted to the methods of entry. Her personal suggestion would have been to get hired into the houses's servants or guards, preferably servants. The rich never saw the hands that made their lives possible.

But she shadowed the lupine, for he was her ward. Eyes trailed across his step, and more importantly the bundle of roots stuck to him. Was that not a creature of Curin? She'd heard the god had created such ingenious creatures, and secretly wished that one was her own. Her eyes followed the golem, not the lupine as she trailed across the manse's yard, mimicking his movements. Moments later she found herself observing as the wolf-man scaled the walls with some unique climbing equipment. The rauko knew that she would have had to expend mana to imitate such a feat, as her rauko capabilities were not so easily accessed.

Her eyes trailed from the lupine to the house, staring through windows and studying the occupants within. Although she stood, she knew how to be invisible not by spellpower but by sheer skill. Aksinya knew how to be so very uninteresting that one needed to search for her to simply see her.

The house itself spared no luxury, the decadance of the life style left a horrid taste in her mouth. Servants, guards, riches beyond her or her clan's wildest dreams, and yet she was not intimidated by such a sight. Fear was not for the one who fluffed his feathers the farthest, but for the one who struck. Her lupine friend broke in, and she observed his movements within, and it struck her what they were doing. Coerce, blackmail, coerce via force, or kill those who dared to interfere with the concordance's goal, but not yet. Tonight was intelligence gathering. If she messed up, she'd ruin the Concordance's chances of whatever task they wished to achieve!

The guards strode past, and her face twisted to a worried frown as she realized her moment had come. She bolted forwards after ascertaining the guards were not observing her, and scurried up the rope as swiftly as possible. The moment she reached the window, she slipped within and bundled up the rope as swiftly as possible. She handed the rope to the lupine before striding up to the light that came from beneath the door, her steps silent. Aksinya checked the door, then pinned herself to the wall, holding the hilt of one of her deadly knives. The rauko twitched her head towards her companion, moments before concealing herself against the wall. She hoped that this room was the only they'd need to visit this night, or else their fortunes would wane with disturbing speed.

Thindraug and Aksinya: The room into which you have stepped is a fair-sized, circular place with a large bed to the one side. You hear a faint breathing underneath the covers. There is an elderly, gruff-looking man lying there with a cold towel on his forehead and a shallow dish of water on his nightstand. You notice several swords hung on the walls, along with an insignia embroidered upon the covers underneath which he sleeps. The man lying on the bed is the Captain of The Gold Man's guard, and he appears to have taken ill. He is sleeping deeply due to his fever, but he might be awakened if there is too much commotion. There may be some key information hidden within the room, but you have no idea when the physicians will return to check on him.

Nathaniel M. Rystoff and Tithy: Your approach of the building appears to have gone unnoticed thus far. Tithy's invisibility spell and Nathaniel's stealthy arcane guise keep the both of you hidden from the view of the guards. However, your senses tell you that the guard will be rotating soon, and they may take notice of a large beast of prey wandering around the premises. You should make haste to find an entrance into the building.

OOC to All: A well planned-out and successful first round; congratulations! You may now proceed with the topic.

The soft, furred ears caught the sharp striking of metal being moved, the loud clanks painful for the sensitive ears. The animal was crouched in the shadow of the building, just barely concealed by the largest stalks of grass. The sound of moving armor climaxed as the man walked by, before fading at a regular pace back into the abyss of night.

Cold earth was slowly uprooted, the dirt packing against the feline’s claws and chilling the nerves within. The large animal simply continued kneading the earth in anticipation. In return, its thick prehensile tail was low and perfectly still, its fur unkissed by the wind – instead the grass was busily absorbing it.

The predator heard whispers between the stalks, noises it had been ignorant to. It heard the crying of crickets and snoring of rabbits, the frightened scurry of mice. It committed these noises to memory, deciding to let them be for now. Instead, both keen golden eyes were focused upon the looming building ahead, the heavy structure like an owl drawn back as it surveyed its scuttling dinner. A crackle of earth rung in the distant night, then silence. The guard had moved beyond the animal’s senses.

A moment more was spent in silence. Nathaniel’s heart throbbed in his chest, intertwined ribs moving with the force. The white whiskers twitched, and hot breath expelled itself from the large noise. Then the stillness was broken with the cat breaking into a thundering rhythm, then lunging past dark grass that feebly brushed along his belly. In the wild, this cat would have relied on his stealth to shred the largest of foes. Even most intelligent creatures could fall prey if they weren’t careful enough.

Stories told by a warm fire and cold pint claimed that if you saw one it was already too late. Such was their raw power and speed. Then again, with none to survive the tales were usually viewed as just that. But with chest pounding and body tense, Nathaniel was moved to believe them. Even his jaw felt tighter; more perfect.

The sensation of pelt against flesh could not be described. It felt infinitely more secure than armour or clothing, even though it was more flimsy than both. The thick pelt blocked the blowing wind from touching him, and it lacked any constriction; he felt entirely free as he moved, the fur bending and contorting with the cat’s frame. It was similar to being wrapped in a blanket, but no limb felt tight. Only his chest laboured with the movement.

Despite the capacity for such, there were no flailing limbs or awkward moments where he lost his balance. His front legs were pulled into his broad chest perfectly, the hind ones outstretched and curved like the tail. The cat’s back and neck were tense, the muscles defined with every gust of breath. Everything was perfectly precise; seemingly built for flight as its leap met the height of its lunge.

Then at once the moment the massive frame came down, large paws scattering dust and dirt in their wake as the ground was crushed underfoot in perfect unison. The body knew what the mind did not; and briefly Nathaniel contemplated who was the true puppet master in such a state.

The bones in his arms rattled from the impact, lighting every muscle afire and spurring the animal to once more lunge forward. This leap was shorter, and quickly gave way to repetition of the graceful thrusts against the night air. It could scarcely be called moments before the mighty frame found itself a whisker short of the building’s wall. Its chest heaved, breath snorting through a partially agape maw. Still pulled by momentum, the sound of rapturing flesh echoed for a brief gasp before the human was thrown through the wall from the previous movement as the large predator.

Every part of his being felt shattered, an intense numbness sweeping throughout him as white hot pain replaced the usual feeling of limbs. It wasn’t pleasant becoming intangible when the magic was not of your own, and it reminded him yet again why he needed to train more thoroughly. The human was incapable of even clenching his teeth against the pain. Bloody foreign magic.

There was some good that arose, however. The cottage house walls were thick, built to keep out both harmful weather and dangerous animals. In the Salquedor Grasslands, it could prove extremely problematic not to do so; the grasslands flooded easily under heavy rainfalls, and many predators stalked the high grasses. Not many people were keen on being devoured by a lupine. The architect had no doubt been very proud to extract his coin’s worth from this home, the wall as wide as a few trees from the Misty.

Unfortunately for the architect, and whoever had paid him, it also provided Nathaniel the perfect opportunity to rely on his cape. The article let him phase through items, even at the price of pain. If he didn’t wish to phase all the way through he could carefully remain within it, though his time was limited from the pain it issued forth. This wall wasn’t the perfect fit he had hoped for, but it was enough for him to remain somewhat hidden as he listened for any activity.

As soon as the other side was clear he would go through, he told himself. Provided he rode the wave of pain long enough.

[[OOC: Didn't get much to musing on the replacement. Will do next post, promise!]]

It was not long before his observant eyes, used to many a night's worth of activity, adjusted to define the details of his surroundings. To the far right of the window, seemingly beyond Tuiol's previous line of vision, a full bed betrayed the room's emptiness. They would have to triple their efforts to remain silent now, it could not be known if the lump that lay dormant upon the mattress was easily woken; it was beyond his capability to know that before him lay a man, important, deeply lost in illness, and expecting company. However, where others might feel intense pressure from the urgency of the situation, Thindraug was relaxed, at home in his natural environment. He was born for this.

There came a tug at the other end of the line that extended from his waist, padded by his sturdy leathers to prevent friction burns, to the ground below. This would be the most crucial part of their mission given their slumbering company; the work required to climb and anchor the rope would not be without sound. The rope creaked as it proved its tensile strength, and the climbing motion of its delicate passenger caused it to rub against the stone corner of the windowsill, but the noise was no greater than the usual shifting and settling of the weary bones of an old house. When she reached the top, he extended his arm to give her a hand up, and in doing so pulled her close to whisper a word of caution into her ear so that she needn't wait for her eyes to adjust to become aware of their company.

Swiftly she coiled the rope for him while he untied himself, and he accepted the bundle as she crept to check the door. A small vine snaked down from his torques as Tuiol took the silken cords off his hands, then let them be swallowed by the backpack formed of the living leathers. They would begin their search here while they already occupied the room, then move down the hall as necessary. Padded footpaws, unfettered by hard-soled footwear, carried him to a nearby desk as gently as a breeze. Papers scattered its dull surface, but the odd static that created visual interference in darkness would not allow him to distinguish their details.

As he had undertaken the study of nocturnal stealth, his night vision, already naturally higher than that of a human by his wolven nature, had been slowly trained to sharpen when he applied his focus. He stared at the pieces of parchment intently, but the hand was too fine for him to pick out the afore-studied symbols he'd memorized when his literacy skills were wholly absent. He would need to dedicate more time to honing his skill before it could be used in this manner. Conceding, he pointed to the desk for Aksinya to see that he wished for her assistance. He would take her watch at the door, trading responsibilities so that she may check the documents.

---

Far below the bedroom scenery crouched a ghost-like feline creature, not unlike her master in nature. Dolenmiel, the rare prize lynx, concealed herself with a doorway in sight. She who saw without being seen waited, tail twitching, watching for the door to open ever so slightly. When her moment came, she would be ready.

(Yes. This post is terrible. It should be burned, but I didn't have so much I could work with, unless I wanted to break cover.)

Aksinya knelt quietly beside her ally, calculating a plan in her mind. Cool eyes observed the scenery, plucking what little she could and sending it to rest somewhere within her mind. Slowly it formed, slowly she guessed where to start her search. She moved, casting her eyes against the lupine. He wasn't a fighter, but really, neither was she. She specialized in quick kills, not anything she could expect from a small troop of well armed and well trained guardsmen.

The mutt rauko carefully drew the doors out, sifting through shelf after shelf, hunting for documents, and when she found them she quickly read over them and then decided whether to keep each one depending on the contents. It went remarkably swiftly, the mutt rauko was well versed in the literary arts. Well versed as one in her position could be at least, she was lucky her mother could read as a seamstress in the first place.

The girl's mind drifted back to where she was autonomously sorting through documents, and idly wondered whether or not she had missed something. Her eyes traced back to her compatriot the lupine, and she elicited the slightest of sighs. The infiltrator moved to his bedside night stand, and quickly sifted through it for documents, and stored the ones that were useful.

Aksinya shoved the documents into her ally's leathers, watching with some amazement as a perfectly shaped pocket formed and swallowed the papers whole. Then, leaning up to Thindraug's ear, she spoke as quietly as possible.

"How are we supposed to leave this room? It'd be best, in my opinion, to simply cling to the outside walls and move betwixt windows." She murmured.

Thindraug and Aksinya: The Captain remains sound asleep as your rummage through his things; he lays entirely dormant, except for occasional hallucinatory mutterings about purple chickens. As you finish looting pertinent documents from his desk, you hear two pairs of footsteps outside the bedroom door. The Captain's doctors have returned to check on him. Escaping through the door doesn't look like a viable option, and the collateral damage of two innocent nurses is not acceptable. Aksinya's suggested course of action seems the only viable one, short of hiding in the room, a very risky choice indeed.

Nathaniel M. Rystoff: Your phasing cape serves you well. As you phase through the wall, the other side becomes partially visible, as if you are looking into it through a thick veil. Luckily for you, it appears to be deserted.

OOC to All: You may now continue with the topic.

The wall before the human was but a mere mockery; a simple gazing window instead of the steady defense its creators had no doubt intended. Rather than fall into a crouch, as he might during a fear of being discovered, the man chose to step forward slowly and ease his tall frame from its previous location. The tingling nerves of his body thanked him, and the cold night air greeted his newly corporeal flesh. It was not a wholly unpleasant sensation, but a shudder passed down his spine all the same.

A stillness descended, the silence blanketing the dark room as the human stood stock still. Nathaniel breathed slowly at first, calming sprinting nerves by focusing on the slow inhale that stretched his lungs pleasantly and broadened his chest, followed by a slow exhale that did the reverse. Though moments previous he had took stock of the room from his hidden location, it was not a poor idea to again observe his surroundings. Before the wall had offered something of a veil, and in the darkness many things were obscured. Now standing in the room, the human could see so much more -- hear, and taste, and smell so much more.

There were two suits of armour beside him, both dressed in a steel, and the suits, though full, couldn't have weighed more than fifty pounds. A window to the left had drapes pulled across, but their wispy frames were not particularly expensive or well-chosen -- light from outside pooled through both the threads and under or between the drapes. Perhaps at one time they had been magnificent, but age and constant upkeep had left them worn. Most nobles with the pocket lining to afford this sort of mansion would have swapped them out by now, but perhaps it could speak for the lack of attention this room felt.

Along the right wall, a long row of bookshelves stood. Dusty thick tomes were jammed into the oak frame, and both literacy and darkness kept Nathaniel from noticing any titles of interest. Across the room was a mantle piece, hued a dark smoky grey that would no doubt inspire awe in the light. Two small stone statues perched near the corners of the mantle's frame, both of which seemed a darker hue than their perch. A small golden clock sat slightly askewed from the center, angled away so that an opened book could sit in the center. Two dark shapes also sat upon it, though he wasn't entirely certain what they were from his distance.

Inset along the sides of the fireplace were twin peeking gargoyles, their mouthes clinging tightly to steel rings. A portrait was hung slightly above the mantle, the golden trimming a dull bronze in the dullness of the room. The human still could not make out many details, but from what strong contrasts existed a woman's profile seemed to peer across the room at him. Nathaniel swallowed, uncomfortable under the unwavering gaze.

Warily he approached the fireplace, shoulders and head hung like a child about to be scolded. His feet dragged along the floor, toes frightened to lift off of their mooring. More and more the statues and gargoyles seemed to peer at him -- more and more aware he grew with each passing step that this was not his domain, and that he was fully out of his element. The man's heart quickened, his breath became raspy pants, and ever so slowly he passed the silver light gracing the floor and into the shadowed patch -- an area beyond the window's grasp.

Here Nathaniel stilled, though the pounding had reached his ears and now even his gaze seemed to waver unsurely. Arm shaking, he outstretched a hand towards the fireplace, releasing a thick ball of fire that dove into the monster's den and exploded, causing the mortal to recoil in surprise. When he was certain no squealing demon was going to come crawling forth from the dark pits, nor would the gargoyles sneer their disdain for the additional light, he dared to rest a hand on his still rapidly pounding chest. A brief sigh of relief slipped past the human's lips, drawled only to a close when he realized there was more work to be done.

I'm getting old.

With more light, he could now examine the mantle-piece to his content. It was intricately carved, with green and gold trimmings marking various indents and design. It appeared entirely perfect, if not for a thick chipping in one of the corners. The two items obscuring the painting and sitting near the statues now revealed themselves to be candles, and there was no moment of hesitation as he grasped ahold of one. It was cool to the touch, and obviously hadn't been used for some time. As he crouched before the fireplace, the brass stand holding it revealed itself to be entirely more marvelous than he'd originally noticed. Though he was not greedy, he certainly appreciated the allure of taking it with him when he left.

Leaning forward carefully, he let the tip of the white wax disappear inside the fireplace, withdrawing it to reveal a meek orange flame trembling atop the candle. For a moment more the man stared at it, contemplating. Then he rose, holding it near the face of the left gargoyle as he passed it. In the light it looked even more vicious, but something beyond it caught his eye. Set upon either side of the fireplace were panels, both of which sat comfortably on the wall and rose perhaps four feet. Nathaniel may have been old, but he was far from senile -- immediately he recognized them for what they were -- hidden passages!

Setting the candle back down on the mantle, he moved to the panel on the left. It was raised a small distance from the floor, but still did not pass the top of his abdomen. Reaching out, he motioned to knock on it -- before realizing how foolish that would be. Turning to the gargoyle on his left, he tugged lightly at the steel ring set behind thick fangs. It clanked, but otherwise failed to move the secret panel. With a frown Nathaniel decided to look around the room for any last moment clues -- he could phase through that wall. Opening it would have left an obvious impression of himself anyhow.

Now the human turned back to the mantle piece, looking over the open book perched upon the mantle. Though his literary skills were foul, there were a few words he'd wanted to look out for. 'Cat paw' and 'silk worm' weren't them. Nathaniel took the candle he'd started, moving away from the mantle-piece to instead investigate the bookshelves. Perhaps a jutting letter, or a book of names conveniently placed? But of course, the room was long since deserted, so who would have? Still, it was worth trying. Trying for a full twenty minutes to struggle through words and paper, before eventually moving on with anything he'd thought might be useful tucked under an arm.

With that completed, there was little else to do in the room but leave. In his exploration he found no more doors, so the obvious route was through the secret panels or the window. Once again he strode to the fireplace, though with a considerable amount less trepidation. The woman on the portrait looked beautiful now that he could see her, though a certain sterness in her face belied her as a figure not to interfere with. It was a stark contrast to the warm features his own mother had had -- round cheeks and a small nose, like some adult trapped within a youthful body. Even in her moods she looked too fragile to inspire any form of fear in her sons.

Breaking free of his brief reverie, he reached a hand out to the fire he had started in the fireplace. Certainly such a thing would be suspicious, and Nathaniel was not willing to hope that it would die before anyone entered the room. Reaching out his hand, he spread all of his fingers as far as they could go, then tightly retracted them, making a fist. A word was muttered from his lips, and with it the fire's breath was drawn from it, the flames suffocated in their realm. With no oxygen it died almost immediately, and he was left holding the candle. The man strode to the mantle place and set it back in its spot -- defined by a lack of dust, and blew it out.

The room was dark again. Now he could go through the panel, and find more information, perhaps discover exa--

Wait. Wait, wait. No, he couldn't do that -- not yet, at least. That flea bag mutt, the furred monster and he had both agreed that Nathaniel would be the one to let in the dog's cat. Realistically, it wasn't likely a secret passage would lead to an obvious door to the outside. It would defeat the purpose of it being secret. The exact door wasn't to be far from here either -- if the plan did fulfill its planning then the cat would be near one of the doors the "team" had been close to when they first approached the looming mansion.

Gazing around slowly, a disappearing black blob caught his eye. Every footstep was slow, one foot in front of the other, as he stared in curious wariness. Soon he came to where he'd entered the room, staring to the current and immediate left of where he'd entered. A round hole sat there, looking entirely rodent-born. With a sigh that lacked any conviction or delight, Nathaniel again made a brief gesture, muttering, "Morph." A radical change took place, filling him with insurmountable white pain and a burning sensation through every part of him. When it stopped, he was considerably shorter. Anything he'd grabbed -- even his cape! was "gone", having morphed and become one with his form while also disappearing. Were he to change again he would likely have it once more, but for now it was as safe as it'd ever be.

The greasy rat gave a hiss of uncertainty, standing on its hind and scratching behind one of its pink ears. No matter how many times Nathaniel changed, he always found fur to be uncomfortable and itchy. That dog better appreciate this. The rat fell to its front again, its hips raised higher than its carriage and giving the animal an awkward waddle as it entered the black hole. Little to its knowledge, the panels had no been secret entrances at all. Pulling both rings inside of the gargoyles' mouthes would have merely snapped the decorative pieces off.

Door, door... Nathaniel found himself able to see in the darkness for the first time that night, both eyes glowing an eerie blue as they refracted the light. The tunnels were a maze at best, with the only difference in the myriad of tunnels the dangling cobwebs he occasionally had to shoulder past. The scent was overwhelming and might have been eye-watering as a human, and his ears twitched beyond his own control. Everything was different in this form, from the tickling sensation of his whiskers making contact with walls to the feel of the cold wood through his small pink hands. For now that was what he had chosen to follow however, for he desperately wanted to find the door that would allow the lynx entrance.

A cockroach attempted to scurry by, which was quickly grasped in the dexterous rat's hands and pried apart. The rat didn't eat it -- even in a new form, Nathaniel wasn't certain he could swallow a hairy, twitching leg. Instead the rat used its now headless body to rub along the floor, marking the direction it was following with the entrails and slowly bleeding mass. The cockroach twitched and squirmed in occasional protest, but the strong nimble fingers remained steadfast.

Nine lefts, seven rights and six circles later, the rat finally felt its fur standing on end as the temperature grew colder. It was closer to the outside -- to the cold Salquedor night and delicious, squeaking crickets that were no doubt fully mouth-watering and juicy. The rat could hardly contain itself from trying to find a way to get out -- instead the logic side of the man again came to play, and he instead shifted into a small house spider. It was a painful change, with his ribs especially protesting and his lungs throbbing. When once again he found himself staring upon a new world, he dared to step forward.

And collapse. Apparently using eight legs wasn't as instinctual as the human had hoped.

With a great loss of speed and considerable amount of panting unheard by anything larger than a fly, the spider dragged itself towards the wall of the new mouse hole opening. The front and back legs did all the work, the two in between dragging along the floor. When the exhausted spider touched along the the wall, it had to say a silent prayer to ever dweller in Aman, before trying to hoist itself up.

Which went far more successfully than trying to walk on eight legs. Slowly the arachnid maneuvered its entire body on the side, fighting gravity courtesy tiny hairs on its legs. Then it moved to the top, completely upside down. Again its traverse was slow, but it crawled out of the hole and began to climb up the outside wall, praying to find a door was on the other side. If it was, he could crawl to the door, phase and become one with it, and check to see if the lynx was out there. If so, a simple game of patience would be enough to let it in. If not... his arms and legs would be very, very sore when he got out of this form.

Not wasting his chance, the spider for now paused a few inches from the ceiling, turning to gaze through the room or hall it had entered, and hopefully take stock of any men patrolling. Even in this form its myriad of eyes could detect even beings blessed with invisibility. Hopefully there were no stationary men -- trying to get past them would be a feat in itself.