RP:Quiet as Undead Church Mice

Part of the The Cenrilian Connection Arc

North Memorial Avenue, Cenril

Kasyr can't help but pull at one of his hairs, the charcoal further smudging already blackened fingers. He was going to need to look into getting a mask if these errands continued to crop up with as much frequency as they have been- though his sense of caution would likely ensure that he'd muddy up his features all the same. Really, the revenant has, for the most part, discarded his trademark look- his current garb compromised of a haphazard combination of cloth and leather, in a juxtaposition of greys and blacks. Sure, it's not quite as sleek looking as the chosen outfits of certain individuals- but it serves in a pinch for both camouflage purposes, and some moderate degree of protection. And with a recent addition of some dark tinted goggles, it serves as a perfectly mundane cover to his features. On the other hand, it provides something new for the Kensai to fiddle with- which is what he's currently doing, despite being balanced atop a rooftops tiles. It's a wonder he doesn't end up spilling into the middle of the streets, sometimes.

Jelko, where Kasyr is rough and mottled in his disguise, is sleek, professional, and neatly outfitted. Vanity is one trait she cannot overcome with any amount of acting, and thus the little director is attired in such a way as to appear ready to sit down for a shady business meeting even while perched atop a roof. While Kasyr fidgets, Jelko sits unmoving from her place on the edge of the building's roof, poised as still as any gargoyle. She's waiting and watching, a bundle of energy held in check until the time is right. And the time is fast approaching, as the sun sets and the first of the evening bells begins to thunder from the church tower's above. Ears fold back beneath Jelko's hood against the holy noise and she hunkers lower to avoid detection, for Cenrilian citizens have begun to mill down the roadways in shuffling disorder. They trek through mud and trash left by the flooding, most of the people themselves looking no cleaner, and only marginally enthused to trudge into the church itself. Jelko might have felt pity for them, if she was capable of it. For the people living directly on the coast and hit worst by the storm, this is one of their few chances of food throughout the day, small tidbits given to them in honor of the Divine Three for as long as the church would tolerate the unkempt presence of the downtrodden. "Ready?" Jelko asks of Kasyr, without looking over her shoulder at him. Soon enough, the pews will fill, the doors will close, and the majority of the church's staff will be in attendance of the mass. Prime time, when you need to infiltrate a building and dig up damning evidence, steal a few divine ingredients, and locate affliates.

Kasyr's answer is simple enough, that simple call to action serving to rein in the revenant's peculiar rambunctiousness, and coax him into crawling over to the diminuitive director's vicinity. A touch haltingly perhaps, though understandable given the revenant is occasionally compelled to pause and attempt to shake clear the ringing from his ears. Despite this, he's still fairly prompt in reaching Jelko's side, by which point he inclines his head towards the ringing tower. "On y va?" Even before she can respond, he's already beginning to shuffle along the roof- slightly grateful as to the lack of birds to disturb, given the monstrous din which served to shoo them away. "Or did you have another route in mind?" It's only then that he pauses, flexing his gloved fingers out wide, before he settles them onto the ground with a near inaudible click of metal.

Jelko follows on Kasyr's heels, her own claws on her gauntleted hands producing a whispering click as they slide over the rooftiles for balance. Once she's at his side and the question is poised, she tips her head sideways and gives a jerk of her chin, indicating the tower looming above. Rooftops are not the highest point this pair will be climbing tonight. Although, as Jelko leans out partially over the edge of the roof, she radiates a degree of uncertainty. The span of distance from where they perch, to the nearest beam of the church tower is a fair one. Certainly not a leap an average human could make. With reluctance, and a hint of annoyance, Jelko glances at Kasyr. "I -think- I could make that one." The kensai certainly can, with his inhuman strength. "But properly not best to gamble before we're even in the door. Thoughts?"

Kasyr flicks his gaze towards Jelko, than down to her claws, before his gaze drifts back to the church. The possibilities open for crossing the street are varied, to be certain, but so too are the numerous drawbacks- Things which might draw attention by virtue of being eye-catching, loud, or possibly a trigger warning for those which are inclined towards 'holiness'. And, as much fun as hurling companions at problems are, that tends to be noisy- which is what leads the Kensai into creeping as close to the edge as he deems safe, before cupping his hands together. "Running start. I'll give you a boost. Least noise. I think." Thankfully, the lack of trenchcoat means the revenant isn't likely to cause any large scale disturbances when he does.

Jelko lingers long enough to mutter, "You can't solve all your problems by throwing family at them." And with this, she retreats further down the roof, only to immediately return in a crouched run. Boots make hardly any noise as they move across the tiles, her steps in careful measure so that when she reaches Kasyr, no hitch or falter is present as her sole lands in his cupped hands. Jelko may not follow any specific deity, but there is a silent prayer to any listening that the revenant doesn't put excessive force into his 'boost'. All she needs is a nudge to cross the gap and land lightly in an acrobatic roll on the other side. Anything more, and Jelko's going to be having a rude meeting with the stone wall instead.

Kasyr 's trained with Jelko in the past, but this sort of on-the-fly calculation is always a touch tricky. The minute director is light to start with, so the revenant does his utmost not to exert an overt amount of force- and yet he can't help but wonder if it was ample force all the same. Not that he really pauses to contemplate these ramifications- The kensai already turning on his heels. A few quick steps backward are all the revenant bothers to take before he ambles into a quick running hop, forceful enough that it cracks the tiles beneath his feet as he sends himself hurtling towards the church's rooftop. As impacts go, it's fairly awkward, a small portion of weather worn roofing finding itself partially displaced, and thereby altering the revenant's course so he goes spilling towards an edge. With a grimace, the Kensai pulls out of the roll, hands pressingly flat against the tiles with such determination that the metal beneath his gloves squeals at the friction. In any case, it's enough to bring the revenant to a stop, by about which point he simply rights himself, brushes off some dust, and begins to clamber up.

Jelko has had slightly better luck in her landing, only having to curl a little tighter in her roll to avoid colliding with the wall. A wince is spared for the noisy leap of her revenant companion. And she's not even given the chance to fully climb to her feet before she's sent lunging forward with claws scrabbling for Kasyr in an attempt to slow his slide toward the edge. A number of metallic squeals, cracks, and scrapes sound out before all is set to right, Jelko glowering at the kensai already moving ahead without a pause. She, at least, lingers long enough to ensure no busybodies are peeking out of windows in search of the noise, before with a shrug she follows. Claws and well-gripped boots are all Jelko needs to begin scaling the worn stoneface of the church tower, close on Kasyr's tail, save for when shadows are a more favorable route. After all, the revenant's attire makes him almost completely invisible against the stone work, but Jelko is more liable to stand over if she doesn't keep to the darker crevices, where her clothing's enchantments better conceal her presence. "Keep an eye out for an office or work room." The words are a hissing whisper, barely audible over the dying bustle of the city below, and the chorus of voices from within the building, as the evening vespers begin. But Jelko isn't taking chances, not after the stumble they'd had just getting -to- the building. Hopefully Alice hasn't directed her guards to keep a particularly close eye on the Church, otherwise a dutiful patrol will undo the work the red-head desires in the first place.

Kasyr , unlike Jelko, doesn't have those claws- something which conspires to see him ascend slower than her, even despite her own route requiring her to favour more shadowy vantages. Really, it's enough to have him fixate a covetous glance at those particular items when she ends up passing him by, before he simply returns his focus to the labourious task of discerning what appears to be the most ideal route. Even now, the tolling of the bell begins to die down, to be gradually replaced by the faint patter of rain, and peals of distant thunder. Heralds of the advancing storm front that has all but ensnared the city. With a grimace, the revenant adjusts his course, slowly shuffling up towards a nearby windowsill, the faint glow of candlelight emanating from it. Whether it's an office, a work space...or simply an overlook to the stairwell leading to the bell tower- the revenant simply wants somewhere a bit more stable to rest his hands.

Jelko takes a certain degree of pride in managing to spider her way past Kasyr. Sometimes it pays to be the smaller and lighter one, rather than the stronger. This is one of those cases, especially as rain begins to fall, promising to comprise even the grip of her claws in moments. It's enough to provoke Jelko to shimmy back down to the window ledge Kasyr is perched on, head turned to an almost uncomfortable angle as she attempts to peer beyond the curtains. The room beyond seems to be a simple one, lightly furnitured and drab. A scribe's room or a dormitory, perhaps. "Good a window to pick as any? We won't have the luxury of shopping much longer." With an air of caution, she leans nearer to the window, seeming almost to sniff at the opening before she recoils as if bitten. "Enchanted. Small one, by the feel of it. Probably to keep birds can strutting in. I don't smell any alarm-producing weaves in it, at least, so it'll likely sting or resist, then break." Jelko waits then, for Kasyr to choose this window or carry onwards in the rain.

Kasyr stares upwards, trying to gauge just how much higher the tower goes, before he finally shakes his head and directs his attention towards the window in front of himself. Specifically, the revenant's attention flickers towards the gap in the latched window, scrutinizing it for a few moments after Jelko finishes giving him the security update. With a brief sigh, the revenant nestles as closely to the windowsill as he can, fingers of his right hand clenching into the wood, even as his left hand liberates a scalpel from his pocket. As it stands, it's Jelko's first guess that proves correct- for when the Kensai juts the scalpel into that space, he finds himself subjected to an unpleasent pins and needles sensation- one that perserveres as gingerly fumbles around and endeavours to knock the latch askew. A few moments prove enough, a faint click coming from the window, and thereby allowing the revenant to pull it free. "Calisse de Tabernac." Kasyr wriggles his fingers , giving the window a glower, before he simply proceeds to pull himself into the building.

Church Tower, Cenril

Jelko climbs in after Kasyr, only to give an unhappy shake of her head once she's through, trying in vain to banish the pins-and-needles sensation running from tail to ear tips. While the revenant has taken the worst of the bothersome enchantment, the weavings haven't broken as Jelko thought, and with whiskers acutely sensitive to magic, the residue is enough to put her on edge. Still, an unbroken enchantment is a blessing, for it's less likely the creator will notice a change in their magic, and there will be fair less evidence of a break-in if no enchantments are missing. With evidence in mind, Jelko takes a moment to murmur a string of words in Satoshi's lyrical voice, calling off the droplets of rain clinging to herself and Kasyr, only to be tossed out the window with the flick of a wrist. Can't leave wet bootprints, if your boots aren't wet, after all. "Now then," the little assassin straightens then, voice once more an accent-less whisper as her is head tipped to regard Kasyr, "ingredients first? Or finding Alice's evidence?" They will likely have to search in opposite directions, as the supplies of the church are in the basement, and the finer rooms and offices are higher within the tower--well above the stink of a port city.

Kasyr's lips purse together, briefly contemplating those two courses, as well as the option of splitting up. A somewhat dangerous habit, as he proceeds to twiddle the scalpel in his hands for a few moments- before he thinks better of it, places it in his pouch, and plucks a cigarette out instead. This is twirled around for a few odd moments, before he finally plunks it to his lips- though he doesn't light it, "Ingredients. Not as likely to have the same sort of magical defenses as the higher up rooms, j'pense- since that sort of thing es more likely to be accessed frequently. Really, with the pack of pilgrims here, likely to be some in transit, even." Salvation for the worn down is an adequate manner to garner more support. "Maybe we'll luck out, et hear someone about that Avantine fellow, or anyone else that is prominently anti-Vailkrin." As the revenant speaks, he moves to the window to shut it, before directing his head back to Jelko, "On y va?"

Jelko nods in response, moving past the revenant like a shadow to the closed door ahead. With an ear cocked, she eases the knob around and cracks the door open to peek beyond the threshold. A stairwell of wood and stone, niches holding brass candlesticks to light the way up and down with little in the way of shadows throughout. Jelko sneers behind her mask at this. It'd seem Cenril's church is well enough off to leave countless candles burning in metal holders in a long, winding stairwell in a lesser tower--not to mention the tower housing glass windows. Nice to know the gold donations are well-spent here. Gaze still judging, Jelko glances around further once she sticks her head beyond the door to listen for any approaching footsteps. None. Nodding at this, Jelko retreats back into the room to give Kasyr an all-clear signal, along with a quiet, "Check that trunk. Might have spare robes we can wear." Blending in is better than trusting to stealth alone.

Kasyr takes a moment to consider this, even as he heeds the directors request and moves towards the trunk. With a sigh, the revenant gives the cedar box a tug- the lack of any lock allowing him access to its contents with a decided lack of theatrics. And said contents aren't exactly impressive in practice; given they're composed of some spare robes, sheets & undergarments. Two such robes, Ivory in colour, are plucked forth from the trunk- if only for the Kensai to toss one over to Jelko. "Am I going to have to ditch the goggles? Or just hope I can do the whole hooded monk thing?" As an afterthought, the revenant nudges the trunk closed with his foot.

Jelko catches the robe and regards it with a distaste so palpable her mask is rendered useless in concealing expressions. The fabric looks remarkably cheap, and likely will itch worse than a flea-ridden bed of burlap-furred dogs. At Kasyr's question, however, Jelko snaps herself out of vain woes and shakes her head. "Hoods. All that charcoal screams 'shady character', and without it, you're 'devil king of Vailkrin come to destroy the Gods-fearing good people'. We'll stick to hoods." Doubly so, since it'll mean she doesn't have to endure the wretched fabric against her skin, since Jelko won't have to remove any of her gear before wrapping it around herself. Second, shoddier hood drawn up to cast her face in shadows, Jelko returns to the door, lingers a second to ensure solitude, and then slinks out into the passageway. Ingredients first, which means descending the stairwell and approaching the source of hymns and songs below.

Kasyr doesn't really waste any time on donning the robe, though he does take care in settling the hood over his features so that the charcoal in his hair doesn't leave any blackened smudges near the edge. And really, given his already darkened features, Kasyr's able to pull off the dark figure in the robe look pretty well. Well, once he's put his cigarette back into his pocket, so it doesn't draw any undue attention to his features. "Well, at least the weather's miserable I'd hate to be doing this in a heatwave, ou quoi-ce-soit." Levity aside, the revenant falls into step behind Jelko, carefully closing the door in their wake. Once done, he simply presses his hands together in a mock prayer, the action also serving to draw his sleeves together to obscure the sight of his gloves- and leaving him with little else to do other than count the number of doorways leading to their destination. At the very least, they'd have a relatively safe exit guaranteed- if he could remember that.

Kasyr whispered to Jelko, "Devil king. Catchy. I want a poster of that."

Jelko's clawed gauntlets are hidden in a similar fashion to Kasyr's methods, although the look of a devout monk in prayer does nothing to hide the hiss of laughter at his remark. "Keep it in mind for when we pay the printshop a visit." And onwards she descends the stairs, care taken in her steps so as not to create the distinct clomp of boots. From what she'd seen of the lowest ranked monks and priests in the church, most wore wool slippers or simple shoes, and not the costlier attire of an assassin's leather boots. It was only the highest ranked that were truly decked out in all manner of finery, veritably cloaking themselves in the gold given to them by the city to aid the needy. With these thoughts in mind, Jelko reaches the second-story landing of the stairwell and draws herself up short abruptly, having caught the sound of approaching footfalls from below. The hood and shoulders of a simple priest comes into view and Jelko shakes her head, resuming her steps in the confident manner of a person belonging to such a place. The man only slows for a step as he draws even with them, squinting curiously at the hooded pair until Jelko offers a polite nod, to which he thoughtlessly returns before continuing upward. "I'd be late to mass too, with a crowd as dirty and reeking as that lot," the priest mutters to himself with a laugh before any further words are lost to distance.

A little off course in an OOC manner...

Kasyr is here with a shadow-laced disguise named NobodyHereButUsMonks.

Jelko is here with a shadow-laced disguise named TotallyALegitMonk.

Jelko ||The priest stares at Jelko and says, "Aren't you a little short to be a monk?"

Kasyr glibly offers, "Stunted growth. Didn't drink any milk."

Jelko shouted, "I'm not SHORT!!"

Kasyr said to Jelko, "There, There. It's alright. You'll grow into it."

Kasyr is clearly lying.

Jelko commits a leap of faith. Without a haystack. All the QQs.

Back on Track

Kasyr takes a moment to glance after the departing priest, trying to take into consideration both his posture and pace, before he simply resumes following Jelko. A bit more effort is used to remove any vestigial traces of a slouch the revenant might have allowed, before he brings his pace up slightly- adopting a somewhat more purposeful manner as he navigates down the flight of stairs. If they were 'late', a little bit of haste was acceptable, and might allow them to squeeze by with a minimum of interactions. Hopefully, given that the noise of countless refugees and hymns have rapidly grown overbearing, trickling in from a doorway leading out into the hub of the church. The revenant, however, has little intention of slowing down- instead poised to continue his pace without missing a beat, so that he might stride towards the building's basement. It would seem as likely as any place to store the items they're searching for, and strikes the revenant as more prudent than trying to lift anything under the watchful eye of the room.

Jelko falls into step behind the revenant at this point, relying on the commonplace appearance of monks in a neat line--she can't help but think a pair walking side by side would draw too much attention. As they pass by the open doorway that leads to the altar and beyond, Jelko spares a glance without turning her head, evaluating the glimpse she's provided. The pews are packed to bursting with Cenrilians, some clad in fine clothing and looking vexed and put out, crammed uncomfortably close with what they deem to be 'shoreline riffraff'. And yet, it is the souls with rags, stains, and empty bellies that sing far more heartily than their lifted-nosed companions. Jelko tucks that piece of information away for later. Alongside the image of a high priest standing behind the pulpit with arms uplifted. He's outfitted from head to toe in white and gold of a remarkable quality, fat fingers laden with rings as he gestures encouragingly to the crowd. And yet it is not purely for show, the man's holy aura can be felt even from this distance--as a reassuring golden warmth for his followers, and a nauseating miasma for the snooping pair of undead. Jelko's steps falter just a hint then, and although she wants badly to pause and confirm what she'd seen, she doesn't for risk of detection by eyes or divine aura. Instead, the little magus-turned-assassin-turned-monk follows in Kasyr's footsteps absently, mind pondering over what she thought was a large golden 'A' monogrammed on the priest's royal purple shawl.

Kasyr , despite not needing to, finds himself holding his breath all the same- a sort of nervous energy pervading his spirit. It's not for the priest's presence, nor for the wash of holy energies that converge in the main room, channeled by the clergy and further focused by the zeal of the church followers- but rather for the awareness that more such energies are tangible even as their passage brings them further into the depths of the church. No longer do mere candles line the walls, traded in favour for ornate lanterns- the likes of which cast the walls in queer lights, a combination of glistening stone and flickering shadows accompanying the pair as they descend. At one point a pair of priests laden with supplies come bustling up the steps, something which coaxes the revenant into pressing against the wall so they might have right of way, with little more than a nod on his part as he waits for them to pass. Hopefully, there wasn't too many sub levels to explore.

Jelko silently steps aside in deference to the priests, not a glance spared by either as they hurry past. But Jelko is not idle while she and Kasyr wait, her focus turned inward as her essence seeks out any trace of nearby waters within the rooms below. There isn't much time to spare searching every storage location, and it'll raise questions too quickly as well, so the eidolon deems now a good time to discover any hints of her kindred element. But what she finds causes her to voice a sudden half-supressed hiss of pain, a sound that causes one of the priests to pause on the stairs above them with a frown. Jelko doesn't notice this, however, occupied as she is with recoiling her snooping mana from the ethereal bite and indignant scolding of a nearby water source--Holy Water does not have any love for an eidolon's presence, even one that sings in the voice of kin.

Kasyr casts a glance back towards Jelko when she hisses, expecting some visible sign of what discomforted her. And yet, he's at a loss, something which simply lends itself to him improvising when he becomes aware that they've garned some attention. Without directing his attention to the priests, he simply stoops his head towards his companion, and offers a quiet (but still audible), "I should have known the weather would play havoc with your joints. Are you able to bear with it, for just a little while longer?" Only then does the disguised Kensai draw back from his companion, his attention flickering back towards where they need to go, and affording him another sideways glance at the pair of priests which had paused.

Jelko flashes Kasyr a look that's one part grateful for his cover-up, and one part annoyed, because now she'll be obligated to feign a limp once she's waved off the question and continued onwards down the stairs. A glance is exchanged by the priests, one of which shrugs, before they carry on. Neither is keen on being caught lingering in a corridor with arm loads of supplies their higher-ups are waiting for, and it's once their hastened steps are no longer audible that Jelko's elbow digs into Kasyr's side pointedly. A nod of her hooded head indicates the door to their left, a simple oaken door that bears the faded insignia of the church--clearly a basic storage closet, and not a vault of any value. "In here. Mind what you touch. My whiskers are burning with the divine magic hiding in there. More than a few nasty surprises if we're not careful." She can only be thankful these sorts of minor rooms are unlikely to be warded, due to the sheer inconvenience it would pose for an enchanter-priest to unlock alarm runes every time a lowly clergyman needed a vial of holy water. But that doesn't mean the room is without its lethal dangers for Kasyr and Jelko, packed as it is with a variety of divinely modified and blessed material that's mere presence is dizzying.

Kasyr lets out a quiet and immensely insincere "Ow." when Jelko nudges him before he redirects his attention to the door. The lack of warding is nice, at least, as it allows the revenant to nudge open the door with a lack of misfortune- but the Kensai still needs to act with a certain degree of haste, so they're not caught dawdling outside. Which is what essentially draws the revenant in a far too narrow space chock full of sanctified symbols, blessed water, and other odds and ends all of which conspire to make the revenant's flesh squirm. Boxes, upon boxes of vials rest precipitously stacked, one of which leans far too close to the door for comfort- and which has the revenant gingerly nudging at it in an effort to righten it. A keg of dwarven powder could set so much of this right.

Jelko slips beneath the revenant's arms while he's fixing the unsteady boxes. The little assassin's boots carry her straight to where her magic had indicated, a small storage chest similar to the rest in the room. With ginger fingers, she eases the lid open and peers inside at the flasks snugly stacked together. Each container holds a pristinely clear liquid that almost seems to glow with its holiness, potent enough to make Jelko hesitate before she plucks a pair out of the mix. And as if she's just taken hold of potatoes fresh from the oven, Jelko begins juggling them between her hands, the motions comical where it not for the small whimpers of pain that come with i t. "Ow. Ouch! Even the. Ow. Damned glass. Nngh. Is blessed. Owowowow." Out of sheer reflex, she tosses the flasks haphazardly toward Kasyr, wanting nothing more than to stop the burning of her hands even through the protection of her gloves.

Kasyr at least has the forewarning of 'It's blessed' before the vials are sent hurtling towards him- though it doesnt exactly help that with one hand still being used to steady a box, his instinctive action is to offhandedly catch the impromptu projectile- an action complicated by the mithril mesh beneath his glove, which leads to the glass container fracturing and promptly spilling out across his hand. His only saving grace, is that he at least manages to abruptly push the box he was fumbling with against the wall- effectively pinning it for a moment, and providing the means to essentially slide himself away and into an awkward leaning position, so that when the second vial reaches him, he's able to ackwardly catch it against the curve of his body. where it simply goes rolling down. Which is about the point he gives the box one last nudge and relinquishes it- allowing himself to fall so the flask drops with him, and thus leaves his hands free so that he can wrench his glove off. At the very least, he has pouches he can stick the flask.

Jelko murmurs an apology as she sidles over, one hand pressed on the still-teetering pile of boxes and the other extended to help Kasyr to his feet. Although, admittedly, she takes care to ensure her robe sleeve covers her gloves, to avoid any of the spilled holy water getting on her. Even with this precaution, however, the waters seem eager to get at the eidolon in disguise, moisture gathering into droplets to roll off Kasyr's hand and puddle near Jelko's boot. Bubbles forming in the liquid produce an ominous hissing as it nudges against the leather. "That can't be good." It's eerily similar to how blood hounds the revenant, except there's a distinct tone of loathing Jelko hears in the water's voice. She'd been near other forms of holy water before, and only felt a mutual unease with it, but this... someone with obvious and pronounced skill has blessed this liquid, enough so that it would animate itself to chase an undead elemental. The clink of glasses rings throughout the room then, from the box Jelko had opened and the ones she's holding up, causing her to glance around in alarm. "We need to go. This stuff really doesn't like me. It'll bring the whole inventory crashing down around our ears." Which would not only be noisy enough to destroy their mission, but also bathe the pair in their bane.

Kasyr doesn't need to be told twice, pushing himself up into a sitting position, if only so he can remove his other glove, wrap it around the flask on his lap, and plunk it into one of his many pouches. From there, he finishes gathering himself to his feet, hands moving to take hold of the box Jelko's supporting, if only so he can heft it up and place it off to the side. It's a stalling measure at best, but at least the tower of crates might take a few more moments to spill over, "Check the door." Which is to say, if Jelko gives the all clear sign, the revenant is getting out asap- albeit after resuming his whole, hands pressed together mock prayer bit. And adjusting the hood of his robe.

Jelko warily steps around the hissing puddle and edges toward the door. A moment is spent inspecting the corridor--and ignoring the nudge of liquid against her boot--before she draws back to nod at Kasyr. A quick once over ensures her robes are in place before Jelko pushes open the door and shuffles out, once more adopting the stride of a humble monk on an errand. "Second landing," she mutters sidelong to the revenant as she moves back the way they'd come, "there's a window. Let's get back outside. We can take our chances with the rain." Judging by the change in prayer ahead, the congregation is coming to a close, and the stairwell is liable to get very busy soon after. Jelko sincerely doubts their disguises will hold up under so many gazes--especially with an angry puddle of water following them.

Kasyr casually moves to back out of the room, but only after he carefully adjusts the leaning tower of boxes so that it's a bit too close to the door. With a bit of luck, maybe the next person to run an errand will knock the damnable thing over. It'd hardly ruin all of it- but it'd make the absence of a few things a little less noticeable. And in the odd chance it happens sooner than later, a distraction is always welcome. ...As long as it doesn't send an angry stream of holy water rushing up the stairs after them. Either way, the Revenant's quick to fall in line behind Jelko, his only comment being a simple, "So, avoiding the higher up's office then?" A glance to her little loathsome liquid stalker and the Kensai casually adds, "Though, either way, throwing a sheet on that..."

Jelko growls, "I'll freeze it once we're outside." Hardly want to leave something as obvious as frozen holy water in the middle of a warm, mageless building. Although it's terribly tempting, as the water doggedly follows her every step with vicious (and harmless) intent. "And no. Not avoiding. Climbing." Words cut off as another pair of priests descends past them, nods exchanged all around but no parties stopping to chat. Once Jelko has moved onward to the aforementioned landing, she pauses in front of the window and lifts the latch with care, a glance thrown over her shoulder. There's a downpour taking place beyond the window, water already splashing in from the sheer force it strikes upon the stonework. "Rain is less likely to question us when we keep walking by, hm?"

Kasyr , follows suit with Jelko, though not before he wets his fingers and extinguishes one of the adjacent candles. It's far more likely to make their abrupt departure a touch less noticeable at a distance, and a candle sputtering out is not the most curious of instances. From there, he simply steps out the window, counting on her to attend to the water that serves as evidence of their passage, as he climbs out onto the roof. Barely a moment is spared then, the revenant rapidly shedding the 'far-too-bright' robe, clearly less than enchanted with the manner it clings to his form with the addition of water. From there, the Kensai simply drops it directly beneath the window, essentially barring it from view unless someone were to stick their head out and stare down at it. With any luck, it'd end up washed out on the streets, and with the recent bits of flooding and excess rain, would turn up somewhere odd. In the meantime, the Kensai simply proceeds to the much overdo task of climbing- something which is partially helped by the lack of gloves allowing him a firmer grasp of the stone...which is essentially wholly undone by the rainslick nature of the tower, and the fact that he has to keep pausing to wipe charcoal away from his eyes, as it begins to run. "Maudit osti."

Jelko heaves a sigh as she climbs out the window after Kasyr, a few moments spent quietly erasing the watery evidence of their passage. As such, the revenant is already climbing the tower by the time Jelko is done, robe likewise shed and tossed aside with the hissing holy water wadded up inside. "Bugger off," is all the little assassin offers her liquid stalker before she starts after Kasyr. Claws sink into stone with an ease to rival the relationship of hot knives and butter, so that it takes little time for her to catch up to the revenant and toss him a salute. "If you had -waited-, I was intending on giving you my gloves to use. But too late for that now." There's a smirk clear in her voice as Jelko carries on past Kasyr--although she's not entirely cruel, for as she passes, a string of words is whispered, forming a thin barrier above the kensai that banishes the rain from falling upon him. Aside from that, Jelko intends to scale the tower first without investigating windows, so that a length of rope can be lowered down for ease of grappling.

Kasyr gives Jelko a look, before simply shaking his head and continuing up. As much as the revenant is tempted to call upon Empera, to use the clawed aspect of that virtuous weapon- he's still trying to avoid tapping into anything that might resonate with the church...or throw his companion off her game. As of such, he simply perseveres, instead simply focusing on the pleasure that comes with a job that asofar has gone adequately well. That is has not involved climbing up a cliff made of glass also makes it a vast improvement over one of the many possible scenarios the revenant has envisioned. For some reason. Briefly, the revenant's fingers slide, his drifting mind having allowed him to grow lax- and yet the revenant's able to jerkedly recover, his relatively careful ascent having kept him fairly close to what outcroppings and ledges might serve as adequate handholds. It also has him contemplating a possibility, as he starts shuffling towards another ledge that is above and adjacent to him.

Jelko glances from the rope in her hands to the climbing revenant and back again, shrugging to herself at the aid not being accepted. When Kasyr begins shuffling in the direction of a ledge, Jelko shadows him from above, dragging the rope along with her in case he should change his mind. Otherwise, however, the little assassin is keeping an eye out on the surrounding towers and rooftops. Although it is uncommon for the guards to patrol these locations, doubly so in such unpleasant weather, it wouldn't do for her to grow lax in her surveillance.

Kasyr is just being a mite stubborn, though he feels at least partially satisfied for doing so when the ledge he arrives at does not have anyone in view of it. Without wasting a moment, the revenant draws himself up onto that space, if only to quickly hop up, scrabbling up against the wall for a few moments before he finds a solid handhold amidst worn away stone. And, then it's just more of the same offering itself to him- something that has him taking the sweet temptation provided by the offered rope- albeit with a good bit less distance between the pair. It's in this manner that the revenant finishes his clamber up towards Jelko, grateful that the goggles are keeping most of the charcoal away from his eyes. Though, not quite all of it- given that the revenant still needs to pause occasionally to scrub at them.

Tower Rooftop

Jelko, with boots braced against the roof's border, has a fair enough leverage to help hoist the revenant up--thankfully, he isn't wearing that weighty coat of his, or this feat would be impossible. Once the pair are both back on even ground, Jelko begins winding the rope back into a neat loop, to be secured to her belt a moment later as a nod of her head indicates the tower they're standing upon and the steeply peaked roofing ahead. "Been awhile since I've poked my nose into this place, but I'm fairly sure the finer rooms and offices are on the top floor, at the rear of the building and overlooking the yard." A yard that is frequently patrolled by guards, to boot. "We just need to cross the roof," a very narrow, slick, pigeon-warding spiked lane of rooftop, "find a window," typically barred and enchanted, not counting the yard guards, "and start digging for evidence." Piece of cake. Taking a moment and awaiting Kasyr's response, Jelko reaches up then to wipe away some of the rivulets of charcoal, clicking her tongue in a scolding manner. "Told you to get a mask."

Kasyr makes a disgusted noise, and wipes away another patch of charcoal, "They can break, so I'd probably still be wearing this stuff underneath." ...It would also make for a hilarious 'Gotcha' moment, if someone managed to actually unmask him. Shrugging, the revenant turns his attention to the building, his lips pursed as she lists off their oh-so-simple to do list. "Well, if the church has been dealing with the Nathali, we should be able to find -something-." Really, the revenant already has a pair of their trademark scarves on hand (Courtesy of his several year hunt of them), but in and of itself, it proves nothing. "Anyways, lead the way." There's a certain eagerness in the revenant's tone- fueled, no doubt, by his desire to see the consequences of their little venture.

Jelko shrugs and abides by the revenant's request. The first avenue of their venture is, admittedly, the easiest. For while the point where both sloped sides of the roof meet is remarkably narrow, there is still a few inches worth of ledge. Ample room for a pair with the grace and balance of cats, even with the surface made slick by rainfall. The only tedious part to this is navigating the long, rusted, and upended nails jutting out of the wood, as they're so densely packed as to barely allow room for tip-toes to move among them. It's a useful deterrent for roosting pigeons, as well as agile thieves. Jelko can be heard muttering to herself, the hissed curses falling as freely as the rain as she weaves her way through the spikes. It'd be considerably easier to simply freeze and shatter the weathered metal out of their way, but she--like Kasyr--is avoiding using any decent amounts of magic, lesst it alert any sensitive inhabitant within the building. And thus Jelko is left the option of careful treading, as she has no desire to impale her foot on one of the wicked nails--it's difficult to hide evidence of blood prints then.

Jelko said, "And this is the easy part..."

Kasyr stares at the nails for a few long moments, before he stoops over and grabs it. A testing wiggle is given, before the revenant simply braces one hand to the roof, and carefully plucks at it. The result is altogether satisfying, the wood ceding it's hold upon the nail with little struggle, and thus lending itself well to the Kensai making a somewhat more straightforward advance then the assassin- essentially dismantling the difficulty of their path, and thereby making it less of a nuisance should they end up back tracking. Sure, a few of the nails might not -entirely- come out, but he's just counting on the soles of their boots to catch those if they end up back on this route. ...As an aside, Kasyr now has a pocket full of rusty nails.

Jelko mutters a quiet, "Show off", although she does let Kasyr take the lead by this point. This being accomplished by Jelko waiting for the kensai to stoop in retrieval of another nail, so that the little assassin can vault neatly over his shoulders and land in a crouch on the cleared path behind him. She doesn't quite possess the same innate physical strength needed to effortlessly pluck large nails hammered into wood, and so she leaves the task to Kasyr while she mulls over they're swiftly approaching next obstacle. The end of the roof lies ahead, and beyond it sprawls the private gardens of the church, penned in by an elegant stonework wall. Along the pathways, although difficult to see in the pouring rain, can be heard the regular clanking of armored boots on the march. Church Guards, and four pairs of them, judging by the noise echoing off the walls. Jelko doesn't need to see them to know one of each pair is in full plate armor, the gold and white tabard of the Divine over this. Flails, maces, and longswords are the Guards' weapons of choice, as far as Jelko has seen--for these men have a notorious reputation, not quite at the level of Paladin, but hand-picked to be guards for their ruthlessness and affinity for the Divine. Their partners are lightly geared, in fine leathers and metal accessories, and armed with the crossbows. The quarrels the marksmen carry are of blessed wood, easily capable of doing a mortal person with sheer force, as well as an undead with the divinity of the material. This information running through her head from various reports along the spy network, Jelko creeps nearer to Kasyr, the better to speak in his ear despite the muffling quality of rain. "Distraction? Or trust to the rain concealing us like it shrouds them? Either way, we'll need to move quick to a window, and I'll need a moment to sort out any enchantments on it."

Kasyr retorts with a subtle murmur of, "Kettle meet pot." once Jelko finishes her acrobatic manuever. That said, he doesn't allow himself to engage in any other antics- instead simply devoting himself to finishing up his task. Really, the only deviation on his part comes from when he's nearly done, by which point he finally turns his focus towards answering the other assassin, "Distracting all of them es the trick. Further complicated by how they're trained to respond. Are the archers spotters?" In other words, would the patrols even deviate, or would it simply redirect the attention of those with the keenest eyesight to attempt to discern the source of the problem. "Rather not risk too much, yet." As low to the roof as he is, the revenant's in a good position to hunker a bit lower, peering out towards the guarden under cover of rainfall. Specifically, his eyes are flickering over the various points of interest that lay in the garden; be it the three sprawling arches of of stone, which meet in the midst of the garden, or the areas where decorative flowers have been cultivated into more grandiose arrangements which might serve as apt cover. Lastly, the revenant's gaze flickers towards what sources of lights are available, be it lanterns carried, hung on the arches, or simply candles in the building itself.

Jelko's mask is expressionless, but there is an air of thoughtfulness around her otherwise. Like Kasyr, she's been eying the sources of light, and has recognized the majority of them as being magelights, unable to be extinguished by water and thus shining brightly in the rain. The only natural sources of light are the lanterns each armored guard carries. Jelko can't help but glance sidelong at Kasyr here. "If -someone- hadn't broken my lantern, we'd have a light-snuffing concealment about now." Although it'd likewise raise suspicions if all the lights suddenly went dark at once. "Well, it at least looks like they maintain specific courses. See the ones there?" A nod indicates the hazy outlines of both pairs. "They stick to the outer perimeters, always on opposite sides of the garden to each other. The other ones keep to the inside paths, going counter to the outer's clockwise." A crash of thunder and burst of lightning directly overhead interrupts the assassin then as she glances skyward at the increase in pouring rain. "Lovely. My wards aren't going to endure this for long, and I can't put more into them without raising alarms." Good thing undead can't catch colds. Although... living races -can-. There's a spark of an idea in Jelko's eye as she slinks nearer the edge of the building then, the faintest of melodies in her voice. With the words, her thin water-shedding wards evaporate, leaving herself and Kasyr with no shelter from the downpour. But she pays it little mind for now, focused on carrying on a near-silent, one-sided conversation. There's little in the way of magical residue in the air, no more than a ribbon of energy spread impossibly thin over the garden, an arctic shroud to bring a deepening chill to the already cold rains. The touch of magic is faint and the results delicate, cold increasing only enough to causes limbs to shiver and noses to sniffle, as heads bow against the torrential weather. Making the guards miserable and thus less attentive on their surroundings is about all the distraction Jelko can conjure currently.

Kasyr is fine with the weather, doubly so now that the charcoal on his face has all but been rinsed away under the continous downpour. If anything, the revenant is looking a bit more attentive, his ears perking up with every flicker of lightning and roll of thunder- even as he himself traces out the routes the Magus had discerned. Even as Jelko weaves her words, the revenant begins to tense up, his body shifting lower and closer still. Specifically, the revenant is waiting for the moment the lightning flashes across the sky, before moving in the moments following- counting on the manner in which the shadows seem to darken following the sudden illumination, in tandem with the loud rumble that follows to mask the sight and sound of his hop to the wall's edge. The revenant's steps are hurried then, in part due to his awareness of the guards- but also cued up by the distinct awareness that has him hurry towards one of the garden's corners- seeking refuge atop the arch. Already, the revenant can feel a sort of static tension building in the air, the likes of which serves to motivate his passage towards the center of the garden. Or rather, atop the center.

Jelko squirms where she's crouched, so low to the rooftop she may as while be lying down. Although a cryomancer beneath the mask and leathers, she has very little love for being covered in water. Even water cold enough to produce plumes white each time the guards exhale. It is an unpleasant sensation for Jelko, and one she's forced to endure while watching Kasyr use lightning to his advantage to move positions. As he takes up a place atop the archways, Jelko creeps nearer to the edge of the roof, shrouded in shadow and waiting for the revenant's distraction to come. She'll use the time he buys her to slip down to the nearest windowsill and begin her own work. Hopefully Kasyr and the frigid downpour manage to keep the guards' gazes from wandering upward.

Kasyr glances over towards Jelko, a certain awareness of what she's waiting for stirring him into giving the movement of the guards another look over. With the guards inside possessing a smaller route of patrol, they completed their rotations somewhat quicker- a fact which meant the points in which the guards were relatively parralel gradually ticked along, albeit with some deviations for sniffling, grumbling, or stretching out sore limbs. Slowly, the Kensai reaches into his pockets, one of the many nails he'd picked up slowly removed from his pocket, if only so that he could begin rolling it between his fingers. A breath is taken, wholly unnecessary, as Kasyr tries to focus more upon the storm, letting his awareness briefly slip towards the roiling energy that crackles amidst the clouds, the ebb and flow of electricity as it comes crashing down into the sky. The revenant's waiting for a moment when the two instances might synch, or come close, to optimize his chances- and yet, as he waits he feels something familiar. A twinge of something within the air that remains elusive and yet hangs within the Kensai's grasp, beckoning him to grasp hold. A curious impulse which the revenant heeds, latching onto that twisting spire of electrical energy even as it grows more solid. By the time Kasyr becomes fully cognisant, there's barely any time to act, the revenant redirecting that flow of energy away from himself, and towards a section of the wall adjacent to himself. The result is immediate, a sudden snap of electrical energy arcing down with blinding clarity towards that location, snaking across the stone for the briefest of moments. And yet, even still, a portion still forks off to the very center of the arch, briefly playing with the darkness and illuminating it into a peculiar caricature- before things grow black once more, drowned in a deafening peal of thunder. Kasyr, for his part, is busy being sprawled on top of the arch, an odd combination of singed, smouldering, and static-y and yet still overall intact due to his affinity. (And likely also afflicted in the first place due to it.)

Jelko's eyes close when she feels that ripple of approaching energy, knowing it will be accompanied by blinding light once the lightning strikes. And so, she's instead left listening to the crackle of arcing electricity, the explosion of stonework, and the alarmed cries of the guards. As the assassin opens her eyes, she's already slipping over the roof edge and lowering herself down to the window ledge with the stealth of a serpent, the curses of startled guards ringing in her ears. A fine distraction Kasyr has summoned, albeit unintentionally, for each pair has left off their patrols to swarm over to the struck wall. There's obvious wonder, curiosity, and thrill in their voices as they exchange their brief tales of the stormy marvel--"It split right by me head, hair's still standin' on end", "Thought I was struck blind fer a second there", "Rutting hell that was loud". And Jelko is putting every second of their preoccupied excitement to use, attention homing in on the window and its invisible enchantments. A delicate sniff comes from behind her mask as she feels out the nature of the spellwork. As she'd suspected, the enchantments aren't especially complex, such things reserved for the homes and workplaces of mages not priests--especially priests whose windows overlook a patrolled garden. In truth, the weaving is simple, meant to trigger a high-pitched squealing noise should the window be opened without the latch's rune deactivated, but Jelko knows ways around that. Rather, it's the nature of the window's wood that has her uneasy, as it bears the scent of Rythal Olive: a repellent for Undead and other unnatural species, and prone to inducing drowsiness in them from mere proximity. Jelko can already feel her senses dulling from the few seconds she's spent lingering on the windowsill, and it's all she can do to give a sharp shake of her head as claws reach beneath her hood to pluck an obsidian needle from where it restrains the assassin's hair. Normally deft movements carry a sluggish quality as the needle is worked into the sparse gap between wall and windowframe, seeking the latch at the same time that a single, frosted word is spoken. Obediently, the rune falls dormant from the frozen command while the latch pops free, allowing the window to swing inward and Jelko to tumble in numbly with it. It's a near thing too, for even as the assassin disappears from view, further noise comes from the gardens as priests and monks emerge, drawn from indoors by the lightning strike and guards' exclamations.

Kasyr is still busy regretting, for as much as he wasn't struck to cinders (not counting the neat patch of seared fabric which is currently flaking off his chest and back), his vision is still a nauseating mix of colours blotting out his vision in countless moving speckles. Blinking doesn't do a great deal to sort it out, which leaves the revenant with a disjointed view of the world when he can be bothered to look. And unforunately, he's rather obligated, given that the disturbance won't last forever. Thus, he makes his way down one of the arches which face away from the guards, slipping off into the gardens beneath when he first hears a peal of thunder, his landing somewhat offbalance, if only due to the continued ringing in his ear. It's in this manner that the revenant sidles over towards the window- and then promptly finds himself stuck as yet more individuals move into the garden. Empathy, in this case, serves as the best indicator, taking precedence whilst the revenant's other senses are still out of sorts, and coaxing him into hitting the ground. A glance is shot towards the window then, in all its blurry sickly coloured glory, before the revenant inches towards it on his stomach.

Jelko is in a blessedly--bad choice of words--empty room. With the evening mass not yet concluded, most of the ranking priests are preoccupied downstairs, and would only be retreating back to their rooms once they could disentangle themselves from the hungry church-goers. This is a plus, the minus is that Jelko is in a priest's room. A priest of decent rank and ability, and thus in possession of holy items. As such, the little assassin is in hardly any better comfort or coherency than her lightning-struck partner, she's just not covered in scorches and soot. Staggering to her feet, Jelko shakes her head again, trying to clear the ringing, or at least bring her sight into a semblance of focus. Evidence. Evidence. They need damning evidence of cultist activity. Unsteady hands begin rummaging through the priest's desk then, eager to find anything so that she can flee this nauseating environment. And where is Kasyr? He should have joined her by now...

Kasyr continues to inch forward, only now becoming aware of the feeling of something solid clenched tightly in his hands. The nail, right. His hand clenches, briefly, to ensure he doesn't lose it, before he resumes his shuffling 'slither' onwards, acutely aware of the babble that's emanating from the guards and the new comers. There's too many eyes now in the courtyard, a fact which sets the revenant's hackles on end, especially as one of the priests makes loose gestures to the rest of the courtyard- in a clear attempt to direct them back to their task. With a sigh, Kasyr edges a bit further into the garden, counting on the plants to further obscure him, as he begins to search for a viable means of re-directing attention once more.

Nothing. Nothing. "-Nothing-," Jelko snarls, in her frustration almost forgetting to return each touched object back to its original place. Heaving a sigh through clenched teeth, the Director sets the desk back in order, not a page misplaced but a fair bit of time wasted trying to remember the exact arrangement. Again she shakes her head against the effects of the nearby divinities before she sidles towards the door, one ear cocked while the other is trained on the voices coming from the garden. By the sound of things, order is being restored, and thankfully no one seems to have discovered Kasyr, wherever he is. He'll have to find another way to reunite with her, however, because it's high time Jelko moved on to another room, and she can't afford to leave the window hanging open. And so, leaving behind the room as if she'd never been there, Jelko slips into the hallway and breathes a sigh of relief, mind no longer reeling and senses once more recovering. Yet it's only a temporary relief, for even as she pads down the passage with the footfalls of a cat, she can feel the pressure rebuilding in her head, worsening with each step that brings her closer to the next room. Jelko repeats this process of holy dizziness, searching, and skulking for three more rooms, and a flight of stairs downward, before she finally happens upon a promising-looking office. The room is an impressive one, occupying the majority of the floor, with a wall entirely of windows that overlooks a large corner of the gardens--it's to this that Jelko goes to first, in hopes of locating Kasyr somewhere below, and perhaps help him into the room.

Kasyr is feeling something akin to a sinking feeling and relief when the window clicks closed- as the adjustment at least avoids anyone coming to investigate. That said, it -does- leave the kensai with the dilemma of 'what now?'. Taking a moment to gather himself, the revenant begins to retreat back towards the section of the garden he'd dropped down into, seeking out the familiar refuge of the plants, in tandem with the availability of one of the arches. The last step, really, is the revenant simply a choice of targets; the revenant choosing to focus upon one of the lantern bearing guards as they begin to shuffle away from the wall. In tune with the storm as he is, the revenant waits until the threadbare moment that follows the flash of lightning before he flicks his wrist, a slight discharge of electrical energy used to give the projectile a small amount of additional momentum (Nowhere near the level of his normal), and to ensure it's intended trajectory. Specifically, the lantern. Timed as it is, the abrupt manner in which the lantern is cracked, dropped, and cracked some more is fairly difficult to discern, and the projectile which triggered it is somewhere else in the garden- looking like harmless debris from the roof. Better still, focus is now on the clumsy guard, and on ensuring the lantern oil doesn't spread- which enables the Kensai to make a hasty dash and hop at the wall, with the engravings upon the arch allowing him an easy way to finish pulling himself up onto the wall, and make his way back up to the center. At least he's out of the way.

Jelko lingers at the window for no more than a moment, unwilling to risk being glimpsed by the guards. She'll have to leave Kasyr out in the rain, unless he manages to make it back to the building and knock on the right window. Until then, Jelko's focus is the opulent desk that dominates a section of the room, squatting upon a plush rug like some fat, golden beast. On the desk's face, worked into the wood with sweeping curls of carved leaves, is an immense 'A', the letter once more catching Jelko's eye like the hight priest's sash earlier. This office may be more promising than she'd originally thought, and with a delighted spring in her step, the little assassin moves around to the drawers... only to hiss out a string of extremely un-lady-like swears that would make a Rynvalian sailor blush. Enchanted. Every single drawer. And these are not the simple deterrent enchantments the windows all bear. These are the real deal, placed by a mage of adept skill. The only blessing Jelko has, is that despite her outfit and current activities, she does have the mind of a highly trained magus. Satoshi can unravel these enchantments... given time. Something of which there is very little of. At best, she'll be able to unweave two enchantments, most likely only one. So which drawer to choose...? Now would be a good time to have an Empath handy, to sniff out any especially prominent items squirreled away in the desk.

Kasyr , once situated, is in a prime spot to observe Jelko due to the wall of windows, though- the warded nature and high visibility do make it somewhat trialsome for tinkering. That said, the Kensai might not need to, given the intimate bond he shares with the magus (and the wedding bands they share). Settling himself down into a sitting position, the revenant begins to scrutinze the room, trying to get a sense for the empathic emanations which linger in the area. It's tedious work, made moreso by the perpetual accumulation of emotional imprints left by patrolling guards, and moreso muddled by the recent visitors. Specifically, the emotions that the revenant is choosing to look for, are those of a far more rare nature in the church, minglings of hatred, ambition, and above all else, fear and pride. Things that one might need to hide, but that holds importance- it's these items which the revenant seeks to sniff out, his mind flickering out towards Jelko to guide her.

Jelko remains poised before the golden desk, addled mind devoted to Kasyr's distant nudges and guidance, mental promptings that have her stepping sideways and crouching before the bottommost left drawer. Something lurks within that fits the empathic imprints they're looking for. Gauntleted hands hover above the surface of the desk, hesitant to touch the wood that radiates with blessed energy. Jelko grits her teeth. This is going to hurt. With a deep breath in preparation, claws reach out to take hold of the handle then, a blaze of pain coursing up her arms instantly from the contact as Jelko bites back a cry. The agony, however, serves to bring her mind into focus, allowing Satoshi's training as a battle mage to take over and flourish in the face of pain. Claws move with a practiced and mindless deftness, tracing out the patterns of the enchantment's etching, slicing neat lines to produce new connections and currents upon the runes. With each neat furrow cut into the gold, the power of the enchantment is sent on a new circuit, its spellwork being redfined, its weavings coming loose more and more until, with a triumphant click, the drawer pops open. Jelko recoils then in a heavy stumble, although the movement is involuntary, for as the drawer opened a secondary trap is released in the form of a springloaded burst of thin, brightly glowing needles. The slivers of metal embed themselves in the right shoulder and neck of Jelko, instantly numbing the limb as she slumps forward unsteadily. The stink of Rythal Olive oil is pungent upon the needles, the metal itself of a divine origin, to create a trap that possesses both an excruciating and tranquilizing effect. Jelko can already feel her mind clouding and senses dulling worse than before, a haze before her eyes that won't be banished by harsh shakes of her head. And the ringing. Ugh. That ringing... "Hellfire, th-that's--" The ringing is not in her ears, it's the church bells announcing the end of the service. It will be a matter of moments before the high priest returns to his quarters, and here's Jelko, teetering and swaying in the middle of his office, with little sense in which direction is up.

Kasyr , focusing as he is upon Jelko, is not particularily enjoying any of the pained sensations which currently seep through that connection- the additional input serving to disorient the revenant and erode at his caution. Enough so that even now, his fingers rest clutched at the edge of the center stone, and he looks all but poised to launch himself -into- the window. To risk whatever defensive measures are on the glass, and retrieve the Magus as swiftly as possible. An impulse that's barely kept in check, the revenant's focus slipping away from his surroundings, so that he might put more of his attention towards their link, to focus on the pain that Satoshi felt. It's been a long while since the revenant has actively tried to do more with empathy then merely spectate or follow, but the need is present now- the Kensai trying to play upon a combination of the feline's determination, and what bits of hostility and contempt she's felt through her venture through the church. The revenant hardly wants to set her upon a rampage, but anything he might do to counter-act the tranquilizing effect or slow it is a godsend. The sense of disorientation is far more difficult to contend with, the revenant not quite certain how to rectify it, and thus simply choosing to try and work around it- emphasizing the empathic nudge towards the item that they sought, with a secondary sensation, with his own presence providing her a guide towards the way out.

Jelko latches onto Kasyr's presence with all the frantic determination of a drowning victim tossed a life preserver. The mind-link nudges and promptings toward hostility are not enough to cease the needles' effects, but it does dull them enough that for a wavering moment, the assassin can see with relative clarity. That moment is seized upon, hands in a fumbling rush to dig through the drawer and scoop out a ledger from its depths, only to stuff the item into her coat without wasting time looking through it. Not only does Jelko doubt her vision is clear enough to read currently, but she also trusts Kasyr's empathy to have located a worthwhile object in their search. This is the piece he'd homed in on, and it will have to do. As Jelko turns to face the office door, her steps her unsteady but determined, still clinging to that bond with her companion as her senses continue to grow more hazy. By the time she's stumbled her way back to the first room and to the disenchanted window, Jelko's eyesight can pick up no more than vague shades of gray blurs around her, ability to smell all but gone, while her ears feel as if they've been stuffed with cotton. The only sense still intact is her sense of humor, as the little assassin mutters to herself, "So this is how humans function. Pathetic." Although whether she means humans or herself are pathetic is difficult to tell, as her hands are shaking badly, numb and barely responsive as she forces the window latch open. And here she stops, a window ledge before her, a garden full of guards below her, and beneath her a pair of legs that don't seem willing to support her weight for much longer. "Should have stayed in retirement."

Kasyr grimaces, as the need for a distraction makes itself more pressing than before. Below him, time has gone on the guards having continued their routes- albeit with a minor deviation. With the earlier mischief the revenant had gotten into, one of the guard pairs had retreated inside- with the official intention of retrieving a lantern to replace the one that had broken (clearly after they'd contended with the oil fire from the first one), though given the sheer misery that Jelko had laced into the area- it wouldn't be surprising if he was dragging his heels. Those that remain have thus adjusted their route, merging the two patrol routes into one for the moment, with the three sets of guards able to nonetheless retain a fairly decent view of the garden. With a faint grumble, the Kensai finally begins to move once more, clambering down along one of the arches, using his hands and feet to traverse the thin ledge. A choice that saves him when a particular flash of lightning ripples close through the air, drawing the attention of a few of the guards upwards. The murmurs however, are not those of suspicion, but rather of curiosity, and some degree of apprehension- the guards seemingly uncertain if they'll be treated to another flash of lightning as spectacular as the one earlier. In this manner, the revenant rests, waiting for the guards that would pass beneath his arch, and have the best view of Jelko...before he simply plucks out a nail from his pocket and drops it onto the helmet of one of the men below. Even with the continous drone of the storm, that combination of sensation and sound is enough to coax the man into glancing around and upwards, and being a genuine nuisance to his companion as he proceeds to tap at his arm. Which currently leaves the revenant with the goal of staying -very, very- still.

Jelko stumbles onto the ledge with all the grace of a drunk in the early morning hours, her swaying only halted by her pressing--moreso leaning heavily--against the building's wall. It takes a solid four tries before numb fingers can pull the window closed, and only the pouring of the rain suffices to cover up the noise of her movements. Bleary eyes are turned upward then to regard the rooftop, Jelko blessedly glad that she'd chosen the topmost floor to steal into, saving her a further climb now. Claws reach up, grasping for the edge of the roof, and yet it seems to only grow more and more distant. Baffled, Jelko glances down to realize she's now kneeling upon the ledge, having slumped down as her legs became numb from the oil's effects. Thunder rumbles overhead, it and the rain unheard and unfelt. Teeth are gritted again--and her rapidly numbing tongue bitten in the process--as Jelko sinks her claws into the stone and stubbornly pulls herself up. It's with sheer determination that the little assassin drags herself up the short expanse of wall, inch by stubborn inch. She's no more than a hand's breadth away from grasping the roof's edge when the creeping numbness spreads to her hands and she quite simply drops. Lightning flashes, with a primal crackle, snap, and pop as Jelko falls, her form grazing the ledge before plummeting into the shubbery and flowerbeds below with a series of woody snaps not unlike the thunder claps above.

Kasyr can't help it. The moment that Jelko begins to drop, he's in the process of up ending the pouch of rusty nails on the ground, their contents cast out in a backwards reaching arc. in tandem with his last action, the trickle of noise should be enough to draw their attention, and the shout to attention from the patrolling guards adjacent would no doubt bring the patrol to a halt. Kasyr doesn't even wait to confirm this- the Kensai-playing-assassin having dived off the arch and behind a nearby bush the moment the first click of metal had hit the ground. His impact into the turf makes a wet slap, the drenched earth grasping at his form even as he rolls across it. His movements only bare a fascimile of stealth now, his hunched form darting behind the row of plants with more haste than anything. The moment he reaches Jelko, he briefly taps the back of his hand to her cheek to try to coax a response, before he simply begins the process of scooping her up into his arms. Already, the guards are becoming riled, their attention now beginning to flicker to other sections of the garden- and with the recent shouts of 'Whose there?'...it's liable that even the duo taking a break are liable to return. Escape plan time.

Jelko fixes an unfocused gaze on Kasyr when he appears suddenly, although any shoddy attempts at a smile are lost behind her mask. "Found a shiny desk. Got a ledger," she manages, half babbling her report while being pulled out of the mud and crushed plantlife. It's somewhere between ground and the revenant's arms that Jelko falls unconscious, finally succumbing to the holy toxins. It's a pity too, because now she's going to miss out on the fun as the six remaining guards begin combing the gardens. The armored three shuffle with uniform movements, plunging their weapons into each concealing shrub or topiary they encounter, while standing behind them with crossbows trained and ready, are the marksmen. The missing pair of guards has not yet returned, and likely won't for a long while due to an unfortunate incident. It would seem that when they had opened the door to the storage room for a fresh lantern, they were buried in a tidal wave of boxes and holy water some idiot apprentice (read: mysterious monk) had stacked too close to the entrance. Between the noise, mess, and confusion, the guards are preoccupied sorting matters out. Their companions will have to deal with finding the source of the hail of nails.

Kasyr is having a hell of a time keeping ahead, whilst also keeping low- inwardly thankful for the obscuring effect of the darkness and rain. Unforunately, whilst it helped him to avoid detection asofar, their methodical manner of advancing es proving to be a rather effective means of causing trouble for the revenant. Faced with the imminent possibility/probably of discovery, the revenant allows himself a faint sigh of resignation and a quiet, "Quand meme.", his course of action now set. Once more does the revenant allow his focus to sidle towards the ambient flow of energies in the air, intent upon remembering the feeling which accompanied the ripple of electricity as it tears jagged scars across the cloudscape. Specifically, Kasyr is trying to feel for the moment before a strike of lightning will happen, or an approximation thereof. The reason is simple enough, because once he has a relative idea, he simply moves to summon Empera, the virtuous weapon which rests dormant within the winged tattoos on his forearm- and which has remained intact despite the gradual crawl of the shifting scale tattoos which surround them. Hopefully, the flash of lightning serves to drown out the brief shimmer of platinum light which swells out from the Kensai's right arm, as the familiar form of the vambrace shimmers into existance around the revenant's limb- or perhaps simply be mistaken for that light lingering a moment longer. Kasyr doesn't really wait to contemplate the result, his hand already in the process of flicking out towards the guard, and thus sending a network of thin, nigh-transparent, and semi-sentient wires arcing through the air. 'Animated' as they are, the revenant seeks out to entangle one of the legs of the guard closest to him- and then immediately pulling his leg out from under him, before retracting the wires back and mirroring the motion with a guard further behind him. With any luck- it would provide the illusion of elusive movement- and enable the revenant to redirect attention away from himself long enough that he might make his way over towards the section of wall that both he and Jelko had originally hopped over.

With a cry and a splash, one guard falls to the ground, causing the rest of his patrol to turn toward him. Their gazes are suspicious, in that split second unsure if the man had been attacked or simply slipped in the treacherous mud. The answer is provided when a second guard is knocked over. As a unit, the warriors still standing turn and swarm in that direction. Arranged in a neat line, the guards have their weapons extended to close the gaps between each other as they move forward, gazes fixed on the ground as they search for the telltale imprints of feet. Clearly this is not the first time they've dealt with an invisible foe, their formation methodical as they work toward the far wall, joined shortly by the two fallen guards. "Might be a pixie," one of them remarks, the second stumbler nodding in agreement. "Felt it tug on my ankle. Too small to be our size." As if this is answer enough, the three marksmen turn on their heels and begin walking backwards, eyes darting from sky to ground in search of a small, flying intruder while the sword-carrying guards scan ahead. The entire lot of them are ripe with tension, gazes searching for the slightest hint of darting movement of glimmer of light. Arranged as they are and slowly making their round now, six pairs of eyes have the majority of the garden in sight, and only heavy rain and flashes of lightning offer any form of obstruction.

Kasyr is stuck between grateful that he was able to get to the section of the garden he needed to unimpeded, and vexed that the marksmen have made that very same venture pointless. Really, were he not so ired, he'd likely be impressed at the aptitude shown by the soldiers- though, there are certainly other matters which weigh more heavily upon his mind. Sparing a moment to adjust Jelko's unconscious form, the Kensai simply observes the motions of the group and their banter for a few moments before a course of action is decided- one that has his right hand flicking out once more. This time, the wires are intentionally weaved through the bushes, the path mapped out by Empera that of an arcing curve, and the likes of which will end around the ankles of a pair of adjacent guards. Once more a firm tug is given, the result being a pair of quivering bushes to pre-emptively waste the marksmens projectiles, right before two more guards are sent on their back. The retraction of the wires, however, is done with a fair bit more care, the revenant prioritizing their removal and withdrawl so as not to redirect attention to his location. Especially when he uses both his and Empera's mutual electrical affinity to tap into the ambient charges lingering in the air, and some of his own energy to make a few fleeting trails of sparks, briefly eye level, and then leading down into the opposite corner of the garden from himself. The revenant just needs a few moments- just long enough that he might leap up to the wall in the moment following a lightning strike- so that when he pulls himself and Jelko over onto the roof they'd entered up. Specifically, he's hoping to hit the roofs incline close to about the time the thunder hits- so that between it, and the drum of raindrops, whatever clatter may ensue will be ignored. Really, he's intending on avoiding those bird spikes. He might have dismantled some, but it's still s***e weather.

There will be cursing more than just the lousy weather, what with two guards once more on their backs in the mud. The archers are swift to angle their weapons toward the rustling bushes, although only one fires off a shot--they've long trained to fire in intervals, lest all three be without a weapon at the same time. Their training shows, as the one reloading his crossbow is shielded by another, the third with weapon poised. When the glimmer of sparks darts past them, another quarrel is sent flying, aim so precise that it cleaves through the motes of light before they've had a chance to fade. Smooth as silk, the archer drops to a knee to reload as the other two stand with loaded weapons raised. A glance is not even spared for the armored guards as the two that were knocked over struggle to their feet, plating dripping with thick layers of mud. "It's that damned gang of them again," one snarls, gloved hand lifted to shield his eyes from the rain as he scans the garden. An archer frowns, not taking his eyes off his surroundings to respond. "Maybe. If so, they're faster than they usually are. Thought they hated the cold and rain t--" Movement has caught the man's eye, turning his weapon toward the rooftop. He squints, uncertain if he is seeing a shadowy form within the darkness, or if it the haze of the rain; he's not willing to take that gamble, however. His finger yanks on the trigger then, in the same instant that a flash of lightning bursts across the skies, forcing an aim-compromising wince from the man as the brightness lances into his eyes. Dropping to a knee with an inhale of pain, the archer gestures blindly toward the roof. "Get a ladder, check up there. Now! Swear I saw something and hit it." Obediently two of the guards break away from the guard and rush for one of the garden sheds to retrieve a ladder--none of the humans present have the agility to climb up a sheer wall in the manner of felines and vampires. Kasyr has a handful of moments before he'll have company swarming onto the roof to investigate.

Kasyr is all but over the wall when he hears that distinctive twang, though laboured as he is, he's able to do little more than shift his body to ensure that Jelko's unconscious form is properly shielded. The sudden shred of metal and wood into flesh and muscle is unpleasent, his jaw flexing as he strives to suppress a groan and finishes tipping over onto the roof. The sounds barely noticeable- leather against slick tiles, though slightly more pronounced as the kensai's form slides down the shingles and over towards the ledge. One last flick of his right hand ensues- the revenant sending those wires lashing out to the side, the strands sweeping around an ornamental outcropping of the church, right before both assassins plunge right over the edge. The effect is nearly immediate, the wires growing taut and cutting into the stone, serving to redirect the Revenant's freefall into an angled descent- though hardly a comfortable one, given the abrupt amount of force exerted upon the revenant's shoulder, and the manner in which his side protests. Not that it stops him from kicking off against the wall when they near collide with it. the motion serving to avoid that impact- as well as sending them arcing around the chuch- the wires laxening during the motion to bring them down in a partially controlled descent, before simply released when they're low enough. The impact into the ground, however, is neither comfortable, nor stylish, especially given the aggravated manner in which the arrow wound bites into him turns his landing into an awkward sliding crash. ...At least there's not a whole lot of evidence left behind.

Jelko groans, rattled back into consciousness by the exceptionally bumpy ride Kasyr's escape makes. Although honestly, she wishes she wasn't awake, as with it comes a glacier-splitting headache, an unpleasantly thick clouding of mind and senses, and an biting ache in every joint--Jelko's, in fact, fairly certain she's discovered new joints on her body thanks to this. A few swear words are mumbled heavily as hands fumble about, trying to determine where she is. Apologies for the pinching, Kasyr. "Can't see. What happened?" A faint sniff sounds from behind Jelko's mask. "You bleeding?" Yeah, a crossbow bolt will do that, even to a revenant. Or, especially to a revenant, considering the projectile is made of blessed wood. Seriously, no more churches for these two. Everything and its dog is blessed.

Kasyr might not be enjoying it, but he's going to take a guess that the arrow itself isn't really enjoying its proximity to him either, the wood having twisted and scorched slightly from contact with his blood. A development which makes pulling it clear easier, especially when he's able to use that curiously righteous weapon of his, the glove, to pluck it free, and then place it into the loop of his belt. He'd throw it away in an alley far from here."..Bleeding a bit. C'est tout. We're out, though." Gloved fingers trace across the wound, a few errant sparks forming around his fingertips as he cauterizes the gouge, before he turns his attention away from himself and to Jelko- the shimmer of sparks on metal serving to redirect his attention towards the needles which still rest embedded in her. With a mumbled apology, his fingers begin to pluck at them free of glacial flesh, with the remnants discarded into one of the pouches at his belt. "Cutting our losses for today, or running the other errand. I'm sorry, but we are going to need to move again." This was no place for them.

Jelko has one hand lifted to massage the side of her aching head as Kasyr speaks. She groans in response before coughing, trying to clear her throat and regain a semblance of neatness to her voice once more. "Home for now. Let's see what we got ahold of. Then we can plant it." Or hire someone to do so, if the Holy Gazette's office proves to be as divinely-attuned as the church. But for now, all the little assassin wants is to recover. Her joints feel like fire and her limbs like an unholy mixture of lead and gelatin. "Until I get my sight back and my feet under me, I'm not much use to this job anyway. And we should patch you up. On y va, noble steed?" This might, just might, be followed by a playful swat at the revenant's backside, to take some of the misery and sting out of the job's turn of events.

Kasyr is already in the process of rising to his feet once more, pulling up the not-so-retired director with him. "Allons-y." At least getting out of the city will be nowhere near as troublesome as contending with that bit of infiltration. And with any luck, what they stole might go unnoticed for some time. Which means, so long as they can get that last item in place, everything hinges on Alice.

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