Tam stood in a large wood panelled dining room, sweat ran down his face like he was back out in the rain. He had spent the last twenty minutes taking a tour of the building, extending his influence to as much of it as he could reach. Through luck or coincidence he had remained undiscovered as he made his rounds. It had not lasted. He had been setting up in a central room, as much of the buildings fabric as he could reach was clutched in his vice like grip. The plan had been for Tam to apply a little force to the fabric, maybe shake the building a little. If he were careful enough people would have thought it a small earthquake. Instead, a guard had shuffled furtively into the room with his hipflask in hand, clearly looking for a quiet place to sneak a nip of whiskey. What he had instead found was Tam with his proverbial pants down. Tam hadn’t hesitated. His battlefield instincts kicked in and he had wrestled the entire building into a knot in a feat of magical strength that few could match. The physical reaction to this knot was violent and destructive on a level that shocked even him. The building had screamed in agony as its rooms and corridors were warped and twisted.
The lack of cracks in any of the stonework gave this away as a work of Shaping and Tam new they had just been put on a time limit. This could definitely have gone better, Monk would never let him live it down if he saw the mess Tam had made. The muscles in his arms and back were spasming from the abuse they had endured and his heart pounded a deafening rhythm in his ringing ears.
Luckily, the guard had been hurled into a now distorted wall during the warp and was crumpled on the floor unconscious. Tam highly doubted that his luck would last much longer. He trudged over to the man and picked up his flask. He took a long drink and winced at the piss poor imitation of whiskey he found. Looking up he brushed his wet hair back and pulled his hood down casting his angular face into shadow. He was stood in the epicentre of the destruction he had wrought. There were no hiding what this was now. Opal would know they were under attack, the old crone was difficult to fool in the best of circumstances.
Still, looking round he was mildly proud of results of his effort. Warping the entire building was a task few could have managed. It was easier to affect the fabric of an entire object than to manipulate a small piece but the effort required increased dramatically with size. The process of corrupting and warping small parts of things was often compared to threading needles with both hands while blindfolded. It was difficult but not energy intensive. Warping the structure of an entire building on the other hand was no more complicated than crushing a box. No, what made it so impressive was the size and the strength required to work on that scale.
Tam threw the flask on the ground near the guard and examined the damage caused by his handiwork. The undirected warping had caused a lot of destruction. The building had twisted suddenly as Tam pulled and the shearing forces had destroyed some of the upper floor completely. Wide corridors had become cavernous in places and tighter than a rabbit warren in others. The dining room Tam had worked from had been an enormous room with a beautiful painted ceiling and dark panelled walls adorned with expensive artwork. The ceiling was no longer even flat and was now scraping against the hood of Tams cloak in places. The artwork was unrecognisable, pieces littered the room. little furniture had survived.
He walked half crouched to the door, stepping over a fortunes worth of rubble and splinters. Tam had tied off the twist in the fabric of reality with the strongest knot he could manage. Even non-mages would be able to see the knot floating in the air. It sat in the middle of the destruction, humming like a hornets nest. It looked like an angry swirling area of heat haze as wide as a fist to normal vision, to his mage senses it screamed so loud his eyes watered and ears rang. Reality did not like to be trapped like this but that could not be helped. Tam had things to accomplish before the building reverted to its usual shape. Even with the knot he had only bought himself an hour at most. Dust filled the air everywhere Tam looked as he entered the main hallway through a shattered doorway, wooden shrapnel and smashed masonry covered the floor causing him to stumble as it shifted beneath his feet.
He imagined from the outside it might look as if some titanic creature had stamped on the building. The image made him chuckle as he started heading towards the sounds of shouting voices in the distance.
Dust caused him to cough and cover his mouth and muck stuck to the sweat that covered Tam’s face. He wiped his eyes with the cleanest part of his sleeve and made his way towards the servant’s staircase in the rear of the building. Thankfully, his heart had finally slowed to a normal rate, it had been so loud and fast it had felt like he could feel it hitting his ribcage for a few minutes there. The sounds of people shouting and clattering metal were coming from the floor below, he needed to focus their attention on him alone. If they stumbled across Monk in the commotion things would get complicated quickly. He clambered over the remains of the servants door and made his way down the steep flight of stairs. He was forced to turn sideways and squeeze through at times but managed to force his way down. Thankfully the door to the third floor was intact and Tam opened it and peered into the hallway cautiously. His care was unwarranted as twenty feet ahead of him the entire hall had crushed together. The Stone of the walls and ceiling had been pressed together leaving barely enough space for a mouse to squeeze between them.
Fuck me, why is it never easy? He thought as he stood in front of the stone blockade he had accidentally created. He briefly entertained the idea of going further down the stairs but his objective, the family armoury, was on this floor next to the guards quarters. It was only a couple of doors down if he remembered it right and most of the houses occupants were on the floor below. He needed to draw as many of them away from the room of mourning as possible.
The rooms either side of the hallway offered no way to bypass the blockage, having only a single door to enter and leave by. The left room was crumpled beyond recognition, Tam thought it might have been the quarters for some of the house staff. Strangely contrasted to the surroundings the right room was untouched by the chaos. Four perfectly made beds, each with a small bedside cabinet, filled the room. Tam saw a window high up on the far wall, rain drummed against the glass and the darkness outside was absolute. Looking at the impassable corridor wistfully he turned away and headed for the window, with the knot impacting the buildings fabric warping the walls and further was all but impossible. He stood on the bed closest to the window and pushed it open shoving his head through. Peering out into the night and the heavy downpour that filled it he winced at the state he had put Connor’s house in. The once flat walls of the keep had ripples and folds everywhere. Water was running in a small waterfall from the roof which now sported a significant dip that likely reduced the top floor ceilings to mere inches above the carpet. The image stank of strangeness as not a single brick had a crack in it. They looked as though they had been built like this, some surrealist architects life's work.
He brushed the latest downpour of rain from his eyes and looked for the window to the next room. It was less than twenty feet by Tams guess, the connecting piece of wall mostly intact, but the rain had made the stone slick, the drop would likely kill him if he fell but it was not far enough for the death to be a quick one. Tam took one final look around the other room and the corridor and weighed his chances of making the climb, finding no viable alternative the decision was made. When no other options presented themselves hesitation served no purpose.
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Tam dried his hands on the bed sheets and covered them in stone dust, he figured it would help with his grip. Then he climbed out the small window onto the buildings exterior. Rain pelted his skin running down his face and adding weight to his already hefty robe. The small armour plates secreted within the dark folds made it heavy and with the deluge of rain it felt to Tam as if he was being pulled away from the wall, the drop summoning him to his death. Tams fingers were painfully numb from the cold as he forced them into the gap between stones above his head. His mage senses were causing havoc with his grip too. It felt like the entire building was vibrating under a strain that only he could feel. Luckily a small lintel ran along the wall giving him a somewhat stable footing as he inched ever closer to salvation.
He shuffled carefully along the ledge, two thirds of the way across a particularly vicious gust of wind slammed into Tam’s back, for a second the rain hammered into his body almost horizontally. Tams body was shoved violently into the wall, his face hit the rough stone and he briefly saw stars. His legs buckled at the knee and the only thing that prevented his body hitting the ground like a rotten fruit was his fingers buried in the stonework. The pain of at least one of his fingers dislocating and more than one nail being ripped off cut through the daze like a hot knife. Tam screamed and hauled his body back towards the wall in a panic regaining his footing. A deep breath was all the pause he took before moving inch by inch to the window cradling his wounded hand as much as possible. The remaining distance passed in a haze of pain until finally, he felt the edges of the wooden window shutters. He broke the catch with his belt knife held in bleeding fingers and fell unceremoniously through the shutters and crumpled onto the stone floor, not even bothering to check the room.
Face down on the floor for the second time that evening he resolved to tell Monk he had injured himself heroically fighting the guards. He had a reputation to uphold. Lifting his face from the small pool of blood that his head was haemorrhaging he rolled onto his back and looked down at his ruined hands. Most of the damage was to his right hand, thankfully not his dominant left. At least three fingers were dislocated, they each pointed a unique direction, and the only fingers left with a nail were his thumb and pinky. Blood ran down the fingers an they throbbed every few seconds with fresh agony. Using his left hand to straighten the dislocated fingers was agonizing but he felt a small moment of relief as they popped into place followed by a bone deep ache as the knuckles swelled to twice their normal size.
Well this is going really well. Tam thought sardonically as he searched his mind for the motivation to get up and keep going.
Finding a scrap, a memory of Connor grinning as he savagely popped Tam’s shoulder back in to place years before, Tam stood and took a moment to look around the dark room. The only light came from the cloud covered waxing moon through the open window, darkened even further by the downpour. The smell of oiled leather hung heavy in the room. Racks of spears covered each wall, crossbows and quivers full of bolts hung from hooks above his head, swords stood sheathed on stands the separated the room into quarters. Sets of halfplate armour and tabards the colour of wine were draped everywhere haphazardly. Tam sniffed at that, it would never fly in the army. In the middle of the room was a large stone block. The guards quarters were on this floor and the armoury was stocked with everything they would need in an emergency.
“Nobody home. Finally some good fortune,” He grumbled to himself as he touched the tender lump above his eyebrows. The sharp features of his face only served to highlight the bleeding and swelling.
Taking a spare tabard off a hook on one wall he used his teeth to rip a few strips off to bind his fingers together and wrap a long strip around his freely bleeding head. Patchwork first aid done he looked around the room for any weapons that might be useful for their journey. No point in just pretending to rob the place.
On the far wall was a thick leather belt that would wrap around his middle and protect his stomach, it had a set of four matching knives in small sheathes that would be in easy reach on his lower back. Tying the belt around his robe was difficult with his hand bound into a claw but he managed it. Then he went to the ostentatious stone pedestal that occupied the centre of the partitioned room. Resting on a ornately woven cloth showing the house coat of arms, a black wolf in a field of reeds, lay the heirloom sword Manx. Thanking the ferryman that the previous owner Orlav the Black was long dead Tam wrapped the sword in the cloth and secreted both inside his cloak. The theft probably wouldn't overshadow their more sinister objective, they may not even notice until they were long gone. Still, the blade was worth a small fortune. Lastly he took a sturdy looking spear from one of the racks and snapped the blade off. Tam hit the makeshift quarterstaff against the floor to make sure it wasn’t going to break. It made a loud thwack but held together. Satisfied, he made to leave the armoury already thinking of the jewellery he would steal from the matriarchs quarters. If you were going to steal from someone you might as well go for the good stuff.
As the door opened Tam came face to face with a soldier who was reaching for the door handle, likely going to investigate the racket he was making. The man was not wearing a helmet and dust covered his face. He wore the armour and tabard of a house guard. Both men froze for a split second, thrown off by the turn of events with barely a foot between them. A confused expression filled the mans clean shaven face, Tam used that moment to head butt him right in the nose. The guard yelped and fell back as the door slammed shut again. Tam pressed his back to it swearing profusely, blood leaking once more from beneath his bandaged head. He had been planning to get the guards attention but not here. The armoury had no other entrances, presumably for security, and Tam should have known it would be guarded but his head hurt and his thoughts were clouded. Even with the destruction of the building the guards would not leave their post unattended. Likely one had gone for help and it was only a matter of time before they returned with it. Realising time was running out Tam stood and kicked open the thick wooden door. He walked out staff held ready.
By now the guard had pulled his sword free and put his helmet back on, keen to not make a similar mistake. He glanced down the hallway, looking for help no doubt. Clearly not seeing what he wanted he instead lunged at Tam seeking to end the fight quickly and decisively. Tam knocked the weapon away with his staff and tripped the mans leading foot as he stepped past, causing the guard to crumple onto the floor legs tangled with the spear shaft. His weapon torn from his hand Tam swiftly snatched a knife from his new belt. He pushed a knee onto the mans chest and used his weight to pin him down. As the guard struggled Tam pressed the point of the blade into the mans cheek bare millimetres below his eye. Tam’s eyes shone like naked steel beneath his hoods shadow as the man froze.
“Stay still and shut up. I am leaving and you are not going to do a damn thing about it or I will be taking your eye with me. Understood?” he applied pressure to the knife causing the man to flinch and draw blood.
The guard suddenly looked much younger and less intimidating, the smell of urine hit Tams nostrils as the lad gave the barest of nods. This close Tam realized he wasn’t clean shaven he was just a boy, he probably hadn’t even seen sixteen summers. Likely he joined the house guard recently thinking himself a warrior.
Tam felt rage at the boys naivety. Idiot, war is no place for boys who piss their pants at the sight of a blade. His hands shook. Taking a deep breath to centre himself and quash the furious thoughts Tam reminded himself that he was not at war, this was a rich nobles house in a city far from the borderlands. The boy visibly relaxed as Tam did, he had probably felt the instability and rage that permeated the unknown warrior for a second before dissipating like smoke in a breeze.
“Good, what is your name?” Tam asked, back in control.
“Alik,” came the trembling reply.
“OK Alik, roll onto your front and count to 100. You can count that high can’t you boy?” again the tiny nod. “Clever lad, start counting.”
Tam grabbed the boys abandoned sword and backed away down the hallway as the whispered numbers began to climb. Once he reached the next corner he hurled the weapon through a broken doorway and took off running. At 50 by Tams count he heard the guard start yelling.
“Intruder! Intruder on the third floor!”
He smiled to himself, so the lad found a little courage it seemed.
"That should grab their attention," Tam muttered as he fled.