Swain Manor (Under Construction)

Around the outer walls, various people might wander by curious to see the damages afflicted upon the gates of the manor. The hushed whispers and speculations seeping out like festered wounds into the population of Noxus. What had happened? Who would do such a thing? Among them stood Skylark, her head covered in a black hood and a long, slender coat reaching her feet rested about her small frame. She was easily passed up, and forgotten. Her Ionian heritage obscured beneath the hood's shadow and the evening that would work in her favor to possibly learn something about Swain's intentions.

Her hands rested loosely at her side with violet eyes ever watchful of people coming and going, and the particular make-shift door that haphazardly managed to keep people out - for the moment. A glance to the left, then the right, using the crowds to keep herself less obvious. Nobody seemed to really care she was there, if they even acknowledged her existence. Her petite, 5'3 frame easily missed particularly under the cloak of darkness.

Skylark paced around the parameter quietly until she could find a spot to climb up, and hop over the fence using whatever edges of shadow she could locate to skirt about unseen. Particular use of any trees or shrubs would be taken full advantage of to minimize detection. Security was tight given recent events, and Sky knew this meant she was at a higher chance of being caught. On the other hand, it also meant that they'd be more rigorous about their normal patrols. She'd been watching from afar - and waiting.

The doorway that offered them privacy would no doubt be the most heavily guarded. She would look for another way, moving towards various windows and keeping within the foliage to avoid any mishaps. Eavesdropping where she could, and searcing for anything that might prove valuable. Would she find anything? It would likely require a little bit more danger to get what she might need.

Sky peered carefully towards a window to see if the room were occupied. It seemed for the moment it was not, carefully pressing her hand against the base to try to push it open. If it proved too difficult, she would stop and continue around even growing ballsy enough to free climb her way upward to the second or third floors. Ever the careful shadow, like her teacher, she would begin searching for a window she might slip into.

The scent of bread was always a wonderful thing. Rarely did she have the opportunity to enjoy such simple pleasures, but that was often the case with being who she was. She couldn't risk lingering despite the tasty scent. Slowly, and with extreme caution the young assassin would slip through the window, careful not to disturb anything on her way through. She'd first look for places she could squeeze her small body should someone come, or a quick exit from the room so not to be found. It was vital she knew the best places to go if anyone happened to come in.

After establishing what she could of the immediate area, she'd peer out of the doorway and scan for anyone coming or going. Being inside was extremely dangerous. So, should anything go wrong, before Sky would slip further in she'd whisper to her tiny paper crane and send it off back out of the window, addressed to several recipients in case things went terribly wrong. It's magical capabilities ensured only those whom it was addressed to, would be able to receive the messages sent. Each a little different then the last depending on her contacts.

Should an area of opportunity arise, Sky would dart down the hall to the right silently and press towards the wall, leaning an ear ever so close to the door to listen for anyone, or anything that might be beyond it.

Skylark froze up upon seeing the maid travel down the hallway and turn purposefully into the kitchen where once the little assassin had lingered. She'd creep nearer to the door to listen, glancing up the hall and down it with every bit of caution taken that the little woman could muster.

She could remove the woman from her concern, but even late given the tray, she may not be so easily missed. Sky pressed along the wall tighter, listened but would not linger very long if she need not. She could risk trying to draw information from the woman, or she could move on and not chance getting caught or reported. It was a difficult decision to make. The doors were all closed, and seemed heavy with unknown dangers likely to be behind each.

Sky peered through the opening of the kitchen door to watch the maid closely, studying her while remaining ever vigilant of the hallway she stood in.

The maid was so caught up in her own work, and Sky seemed content to focus on her for the moment. But it didn't last long. The voices down the hall caused her to shift away from the door and creep closer to the sounds. She'd draw up another paper crane, holding it close to her lips to record what she was hearing.

Her small frame pressed against the wall, utilizing the cover of shadow as she had done many times before to eavesdrop this time. She'd search for any kind of opening, or a key hole hoping to gain a glimpse at the sources of the voices. She'd take note of any areas she might flee to should the maid or anyone else come her way, being sure to be as careful as she could be in the hall. This was especially dangerous since hallways didn't generally offer much in the way of hiding places. She didn't want to have to kill anyone if she didn't need to. This wasn't her purpose for coming here tonight.

Renekton gave a grunt of approval as a wicked gauntlet was secured tightly around one forearm, surveying the suit of armor that had been commissioned for his use. It was certainly a fine piece of work, even by his own kind's standards. A certain resemblance to the armor borne by the General's personal bodyguards was obvious, as it was positively bristling with bladed adornments. The scaled pauldrons bore elaborate sigils in clear homage to the General he contractually served, and the resplendent crest of Noxus was worn proudly upon the thick, yet flexible cuirass that had only recently been affixed about his being. It was the type of armor that Renekton certainly preferred; it was intimidating without being flamboyant, highly durable without sacrificing much in the way of mobility, and, most of all, it perfectly accented his primal might.

Then came the piece of his new arsenal that he had been awaiting: an gargantuan blade just as immense as the one he had wielded upon the Fields of Justice. The serrated edges looked certain to hack through armor, flesh, and bone alike, and the dull emerald glow hanging around the edges of the weapon tickled Renekton's curiosity. Clearly a weapon that was worthy of his use.

"Five hundred...hah!" the hulking demigod chortled, gazing down at Swain with a menacing half-smile. "You could not spare any more than that? I would hate to be...out of practice, when the proper time comes."

With a slight grumble, Renekton personally seized the final suit component from the armorers, a resplendent helmet of emerald and gold. The grim mask was placed unceremoniously upon the demigod's bestial head, his own crimson eyes igniting the sextet of eye holes etched into it.

"But then, I would not do well to complain," Renekton considered, tapping the edge of his new blade to his chin thoughtfully. "Publicized human sacrifice...it shall make fine practice for my homecoming."

Giving a thunderous rumble, Renekton stepped forward into the half-light of the chamber, smirk widening ever so slightly as the emerald and gold of his armor was illuminated. Noxus' newest champion was rising; the five hundred lives promised to him would almost certainly not be the last to meet his blade. But even the elation at imminent bloodshed could not entirely sate the Butcher's senses; there was something irking him at that very moment. An unfamiliar scent hung upon the air, and despite how faint it was, he could perceive that it was close. It was likely nothing, but then again...

So careful, so vigilant, the girl eavesdropped from one knee, pointed ears pricked to detect any sound within the hall. But one cannot detect the sound of silence. While her violet eyes widened against the scene before her, the shadows in the hall took form as though from wisps of obsidian smoke. Four mage-assassins seemed to materialize out of nothing, simultaneously, surrounding the intruder.

Gloved fingers seized her wrists. A third pair of hands grasped her hood, yanked her backwards from the door. Her assailants' faces were completely shrouded, their bodies wrapped tightly in silent ebon from cowl to boots. The fourth mage-assassin stepped silently to the door, turned the knob and pushed it open that Skylark's captors might hoist her over the threshold.

As they entered, dragging the girl along, the general's burning gaze snapped up to the lounging hall's elevated entryway. He narrowed his eyes, a cold fury twisting his gnarled features, and snapped, "What is this?"

The free assassin offered a salute: one fist brought quickly over his chest before he spoke. "A spy, Grand General."

Swain quirked a brow.

"Shall we dispose of it, sir?"

With every step sounding as thunder, Renekton stepped out from the armoring chamber to survey the infiltrator. She did not look impressive by any standards, and appeared frail when put side by side with her fellow humans. The infiltrator did not seem to be a threat to anyone save herself, judging by how foolish she must have been to set foot in the dominion of Swain. Still, a spy was a loose end to be cut, and she clearly knew of his alliance with Noxus. More than likely she would snitch to the League on his whereabouts, given half a chance.

"Inconsequential little whelp," Renekton grunted once he had surveyed the captive. His unforgiving gaze had made clear her purpose to him; she was likely in service of one of the General's political enemies.

"Another guest for your acclaimed event today, hm?"