Post by The Blade's Shadow on May 30, 2013 4:40:10 GMT -5
May 3rd, 23 CLE, 3:48 AM, Outside the Noxian Moat
Once inside the wall, weaving through the minor lands held by Noxus was hardly a challenge for someone as trained as Talon. Breaking in through the main gate, however, would be more of a difficulty. Which was exactly why Talon didn't intend to do anything of the sort.
One of very few sewer exits that emptied into the moat was barely visible in the distance, a steady stream of vile water pouring from it. He always hated entering and exiting the city without being detected. It always left him reeking of things he would rather not think of, things he thought he'd left behind in his childhood.
The length of rope at his side, colored a matte navy to blend into the night and ending in a dull, three pronged hook, would explain to anyone what it was he intended to do. He waited, watching guards pass by. The security was surprisingly tight. A worrisome thought, that they'd been perhaps alerted to his intrusion. The bodies definitely should have been disposed of, but he hadn't had the time.
If Marcus could see him now, he would feel the razor lash of the cane on his back for failing to infiltrate as cleanly as his blade would could cut. This is all for you, old man. Everything I do is to bring you back to them. The grinding of his teeth didn't occur to him until he saw his opportunity. He broke from cover at a sprint, freeing the hook from its place at his side, feeling the slight breeze it made as it whirled through the air beside him.
He only had one chance, but he'd made the throw many times in his life. He released the hook without a second thought, throwing himself over the edge of the moat as the coil of rope at his side spun out and away from him. A lurch of fear threatened to tense his muscles as the water began to rush towards him. Did it always take so long? Did I miss? I haven't had to do this in ages, perhaps I've gone rusty. The rope went taut moments later, catching on the intended target and his weight, making his stomach gurgle unhappily.
Still, his body swept just above the water as he cushioned his impact on the wall as best he humanly could, though his bones would ache for it later. The water that ran from the drainage pipe now ran over his hood and down his back, soaking him to the bone within seconds, but shielding both the rope and his body from view. With a moment to shake off the numbing cold, he began to climb. When he reached the top, he was greeted as he always was.
Just a pair of ever so slightly weakened bars. Talon retrieved a piece of metal, nothing more than a dense bar, and wedged it in. It took his whole body's weight and a considerable effort, but he managed to bend them on by one away from one another. Once on the other side, it was the same tiring process that bent the bars back exactly as he'd found them, necessary if he was to keep using it with any frequency, much as he doubted needing to after this.
From there, it was the arduous trek through the muck and the grime and the slurry of disgusting filth of the sewers to what he called home. The years he'd spent down in this hole had given him a very accurate map of its layout and where it lead. Almost everywhere in the main bulk of Noxus was accessible from this sewage system. Almost. There were some places, homes belonging to the particularly suspicious or cautious and any of the newer buildings had either been publicly or privately moved to a different system.
That didn't matter of course, as he made his way through the sludge around his knees, remembering this particular passage being so much shorter. It finally grew wider, no longer simply a cylinder with murky water and detritus flowing out of it. The ceiling was placed higher, vaulted until it reached a juncture with another pathway. The floor became flat, with raised, if thin, walkways running along the sides. Talon immediately made use of those, shaking off what he could of the vile concoction that slid along the pathways below him.
With his body no longer partially submerged in the worst Noxus had to offer, he sped along the halls as quickly and quietly as he could, avoiding any loose masonry or misstep. The last thing he needed was an injury in this place. His memory served him exactly as it should, and he found himself slipping out of the sewers and directly onto the grounds of Manor DuCouteau, still cloaked in darkness, though he smelled a bit heinous. The sun threatened to rise at any moment, and he knew his time was wearing thin to reach his destination.
He wasn't sure the guards could be trusted any longer, nor the servants. Any good ear could be paid off, coerced or otherwise blackmailed into spilling every secret and snippet it heard. He located his destination on the wall of the building, a luxurious window, much larger then he would have ever needed a window to be. I will never understand architecture. It was no matter, all he had to do now was climb up to it and he was at his goal.
Hand, hand, foot, foot. Swifter than he could in years past, not that he had a lot of experience breaking into this room in particular. The guards swirled about on the ground below like ants, the ancient building having gladly offered up handholds and nooks to use. It was a present he was glad for, knowing that his visit likely would not be welcomed with a loving embrace so much as the potential for a venomous death. Especially not this early, much less with this foul odor clinging to him.
Reaching the window as the sun peeked out over the horizon, he carefully and quietly pried it open, slipping into the well decorated room and closing the entrance behind himself.
If she wasn't home, he could wait. If she wasn't awake, she would be soon. If she wasn't friendly... No one but her father ever truly seemed to be.
