The warrior shoved the tile up and snatched the dagger blade before it could fall the hundred or so feet below where it would alert the assassins to his presence. Rezkin’s entire body strained as he gripped the central shaft with his legs and hefted the heavy slate tile up and to the side. He had to maintain a firm grip on the tile that had been resting beneath the top shingle. It was poorly balanced and had become loose during his machinations. If the heavy shingle fell, it could start an avalanche of sliding shingles, perhaps even collapsing a large section of the roof. The warrior had to remove the sword and scabbard from his back and place it on the roof, or he would not have been able to squeeze through the hole. The Sword Bearer did not carry his own blades, begrudgingly hiding them in the forest. Instead, he carried the assassin’s blade along with the rest of his attire. The young warrior gripped the loose tile in one hand as he used his other to lift himself through the small opening.

Once on the roof, Rezkin carefully adjusted the two shingles until they once again fit snuggly in their intended positions. He collected the sword and then began making his way down the vertical face of the tower. The tower was old, and the handholds and footholds were numerous where the grout had weathered away. Unfortunately, the same natural weathering applied to the stones, some of which were loose. Rezkin reached for a handhold and found the stone to be too loose to hold his weight at the same time that the stone beneath his foot crumbled away. Despite all his Skills, Rezkin was pitched into the air, falling freely into the darkness below. He twisted in midair so that he would strike the ground properly for such a fall. Upon impact, he pitched forward into several summersaults intended to absorb his momentum.

The ground at the base of the tower was uneven and on a slight hill. Rezkin wrenched his leg and heard an audible snap just before he struck a tree. The impact with the towering fir dislocated his shoulder and caused a searing pain in his chest. The warrior mentally chided himself for his folly as he went about checking his injuries, although he would never give voice to his pain or self-recrimination. Rezkin braced himself and then slammed his shoulder into the trunk of the tree, shoving the appendage back into its proper socket. He prodded his ribs to find that at least one was probably broken although not dislocated. Finally, he pulled up his pant leg and checked the damage to his shin. The bone must have been fractured because he had heard the snap, but he could find no dislocation of that bone, either. He was lucky to have such minimal damage, even if it was all on the same side.