The man known as Jon Chess was waiting, albeit not patiently.
Jon had been charged to enlist a non-corrupt Tidesage to bless a small armory worth of weapons for the House of Stewards, and he had enlisted Sister Cordelia, who Jon had met while cleaning up the mess the Ashvane attack had made of Boralus during what was now widely called "The Seige of Boralus". Jon liked her, and more importantly, had been sure she had not been a k'thir in disguise. After searching the waterfront for hours, he had found her, and she had agreed to bless the weapons - for a price.
Renegade Tidesages loyal to the now-deceased Lord Stormsong had stolen an artifact - a green lantern - and she had requested that Jon recover the lantern, along with several books from the archives in exchange for the blessing. Jon had agreed, and in the wee hours after midnight he had swum out through the frigid waters of Boralus Harbor. He had used a grappling hook and spider silk cord to scale the walls, bypassing the monastery's loyalist guards, and snuck his way into the archives. The archives were in a locked chamber below a sunken area where the Tidesage archivists studied and copied sacred texts. Jon had mumbled an incantation in Ravenspeech, the language of the arakkoa, whose forbidden tomes of shadow magic Jon had studied, and entered the concealment of the Shadows.
Jon had not come to kill, but to steal. While Jon would not scruple at killing the corrupted Tidesages or their minion guardsmen, that was not the mission - the mission was to retrieve the books and the lantern and return them safely to Sister Cordelia. Killing always complicated theft; a discovered body and the monastery guardsmen would go to full alert, and while Jon was confident in his abilities - he carried F.R.I.E.D grenades for a reason, after all - the books or the lantern might be damaged in his escape.
Jon was a professional, after all.
He had unlocked the archive, and located the desired books, slipping each into watertight oilskin bags and securing them across his back. He had exited the library, locking the doors securely after his departure, and gone to the tall building in the center of the monastery. It was fortunate that the Tidesages who built the building had loved their aquatic decorations to their architecture - a Kraken's tentacle made for very effective hand-holds. Jon stayed in the shadows, watching the building through several guard changes and patrols, making a tally of the timing. Finally, he waited until the guard rotation just before dawn, and following the patrol at a safe distance, waited until they rounded the corner of the building and went up like a cat scaling a convenient oak tree.
The building itself was several stories tall, with no windows and topped by a bell-tower, which rested above a giant clock Like most monasteries everywhere, they attached importance to the timing of conducting certain prayers and rituals. Ordinarily, Jon would have slipped the latch on a convenient window, but somehow dark oppressive gloom suited what the Tidcesages who followed Lord Stormsong had become, worshipping the ancient evil of the depths. Jon ascended to the bell tower, and attached his own grapple hook and rope, allowing them to spill down beside the bell ropes. He descended swiftly and opened the trap door access. He barely touched the ladder as we went down alongside the clock mechanisms. The door to the Abbott's private study was on the floor below. Jon removed a long, strong but slender pry bar and began to work the floorboards next to the clock he worked slowly but swiftly, prying up a floorboard until he could see into the room below.
The room was well furnished, with shelves and bookcases, a desk with an overstuffed leather chair, and sturdy wooden chairs for the Abbott's guests. Apparently, the Abbott was not satisfied with the guards at the entrance of the tower nor the regular patrols of the guardsmen; there was a loathsome k'thir sitting in the Abbott's chair, watching over the sanctum. Jon worked more floorboards loose until he could easily fit his well-muscled body through the hole. Readying his balance like a cat about to strike, Jon leaped down, twisting slightly in the air, landing behind the tentacle-faced watchman with a soft thud. His readied mithril wire swung out and around the neck, and Jon caught the wooden dowel at the other end of his garrote. The mithril wire was thin and incredibly strong, and Jon had wound another wire around the first. Jon pulled back with all his weight behind it, making a sawing motion with the wire. Like a tree saw, the wires bit and gouged deeply into the throat of the k'thir, and Jon's weight did the rest. The k'thir struggled frantically for several long moments, trying to gain purchase on the garrote with his fingers, the tentacles severed to the floor. Jon coiled up his garrote and began searching for the ritual lantern. The lantern was bracketed by books in a bookcase, as if on display. Into the oilskin back it went, and Jon slipped out the chamber door.
Achieving the bell tower once more, he took a short run and flung himself out over the rocks as if preparing a fatal swan dive, but as he reached the apogee of his arc he tapped his heels together, activating a surprise boost.
Phredaria, Jon's friend and forensics mage, and attached rocket boosters to Jon's boots. Powered by concentrated volatile rum, they burned for only a few seconds, but their explosive force propelled Jon like a springboard, lengthening his arc safely beyond the rocks, almost to the center of the bay. A short swim later, and Jon was before a fire in the apartment he had rented for the occasion.
When he and Sister Cordelia had parted, she had demurred to inform Jon where he might find her, saying only that she would find him. So Jon sat naked in front of the fire, a mug of restorative Thistle Tea in his hands. He would wait. Albeit not patiently.
Jon had been charged to enlist a non-corrupt Tidesage to bless a small armory worth of weapons for the House of Stewards, and he had enlisted Sister Cordelia, who Jon had met while cleaning up the mess the Ashvane attack had made of Boralus during what was now widely called "The Seige of Boralus". Jon liked her, and more importantly, had been sure she had not been a k'thir in disguise. After searching the waterfront for hours, he had found her, and she had agreed to bless the weapons - for a price.
Renegade Tidesages loyal to the now-deceased Lord Stormsong had stolen an artifact - a green lantern - and she had requested that Jon recover the lantern, along with several books from the archives in exchange for the blessing. Jon had agreed, and in the wee hours after midnight he had swum out through the frigid waters of Boralus Harbor. He had used a grappling hook and spider silk cord to scale the walls, bypassing the monastery's loyalist guards, and snuck his way into the archives. The archives were in a locked chamber below a sunken area where the Tidesage archivists studied and copied sacred texts. Jon had mumbled an incantation in Ravenspeech, the language of the arakkoa, whose forbidden tomes of shadow magic Jon had studied, and entered the concealment of the Shadows.
Jon had not come to kill, but to steal. While Jon would not scruple at killing the corrupted Tidesages or their minion guardsmen, that was not the mission - the mission was to retrieve the books and the lantern and return them safely to Sister Cordelia. Killing always complicated theft; a discovered body and the monastery guardsmen would go to full alert, and while Jon was confident in his abilities - he carried F.R.I.E.D grenades for a reason, after all - the books or the lantern might be damaged in his escape.
Jon was a professional, after all.
He had unlocked the archive, and located the desired books, slipping each into watertight oilskin bags and securing them across his back. He had exited the library, locking the doors securely after his departure, and gone to the tall building in the center of the monastery. It was fortunate that the Tidesages who built the building had loved their aquatic decorations to their architecture - a Kraken's tentacle made for very effective hand-holds. Jon stayed in the shadows, watching the building through several guard changes and patrols, making a tally of the timing. Finally, he waited until the guard rotation just before dawn, and following the patrol at a safe distance, waited until they rounded the corner of the building and went up like a cat scaling a convenient oak tree.
The building itself was several stories tall, with no windows and topped by a bell-tower, which rested above a giant clock Like most monasteries everywhere, they attached importance to the timing of conducting certain prayers and rituals. Ordinarily, Jon would have slipped the latch on a convenient window, but somehow dark oppressive gloom suited what the Tidcesages who followed Lord Stormsong had become, worshipping the ancient evil of the depths. Jon ascended to the bell tower, and attached his own grapple hook and rope, allowing them to spill down beside the bell ropes. He descended swiftly and opened the trap door access. He barely touched the ladder as we went down alongside the clock mechanisms. The door to the Abbott's private study was on the floor below. Jon removed a long, strong but slender pry bar and began to work the floorboards next to the clock he worked slowly but swiftly, prying up a floorboard until he could see into the room below.
The room was well furnished, with shelves and bookcases, a desk with an overstuffed leather chair, and sturdy wooden chairs for the Abbott's guests. Apparently, the Abbott was not satisfied with the guards at the entrance of the tower nor the regular patrols of the guardsmen; there was a loathsome k'thir sitting in the Abbott's chair, watching over the sanctum. Jon worked more floorboards loose until he could easily fit his well-muscled body through the hole. Readying his balance like a cat about to strike, Jon leaped down, twisting slightly in the air, landing behind the tentacle-faced watchman with a soft thud. His readied mithril wire swung out and around the neck, and Jon caught the wooden dowel at the other end of his garrote. The mithril wire was thin and incredibly strong, and Jon had wound another wire around the first. Jon pulled back with all his weight behind it, making a sawing motion with the wire. Like a tree saw, the wires bit and gouged deeply into the throat of the k'thir, and Jon's weight did the rest. The k'thir struggled frantically for several long moments, trying to gain purchase on the garrote with his fingers, the tentacles severed to the floor. Jon coiled up his garrote and began searching for the ritual lantern. The lantern was bracketed by books in a bookcase, as if on display. Into the oilskin back it went, and Jon slipped out the chamber door.
Achieving the bell tower once more, he took a short run and flung himself out over the rocks as if preparing a fatal swan dive, but as he reached the apogee of his arc he tapped his heels together, activating a surprise boost.
Phredaria, Jon's friend and forensics mage, and attached rocket boosters to Jon's boots. Powered by concentrated volatile rum, they burned for only a few seconds, but their explosive force propelled Jon like a springboard, lengthening his arc safely beyond the rocks, almost to the center of the bay. A short swim later, and Jon was before a fire in the apartment he had rented for the occasion.
When he and Sister Cordelia had parted, she had demurred to inform Jon where he might find her, saying only that she would find him. So Jon sat naked in front of the fire, a mug of restorative Thistle Tea in his hands. He would wait. Albeit not patiently.
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