A nearby torch flickered as the shadow suddenly shifted. A form began to peel away from its tenebrous shelter- only the most keen observer would identify it as having the shape of a man. Inching ever so slowly toward the moonlit porch the man of shadow reached out, with long trained senses, to the various runes covering the surface of the house in the hopes of finding some way to unravel their magical protections. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead from the effort as he mentally followed one rune to the next, in well structured layers- knowing one wrong step could unleash forces that the young arcanist was not yet prepared to manage. Slipping back into the shadows the man cautiously made his way from the area and whispered the words that would take him back to his guild’s current hideout. Mother Whisper would not be pleased, he knew. She frowned upon any of her students failing at their given tasks and the students, out of fear oft times, dreaded disappointing her- in the same way the condemned dreads the fall of the blade to the back of his neck. With a sigh, he walked into the small building to announce his failure.