Crow: Titled thus by the guild of thugs and bandits he belonged to, was far from the greatest rogue or spy in the lands. His aptitude for thievery and the beguiling nature of his appearance were often overshadowed by his unwillingness to take a life in cold blood. An oddity among the ruffians and dark-arts collective he had grown up in. He preferred to steal from those deserving, and strike at times when his victims were more aware than most rogues would like. Not that he wouldnt lift treasure from a pocket while in the shadows, just that he preferred the cold and resolute calm it took to do so from the light instead. Such was the reason for his hesitation throughout the night and into the morning hours. Remaining perched atop the tavern roof with mere meditation keeping him from a full slumber.<br/><br/>He had heard the commotion from within the establishment and could feel the shifting of tensions as a great many things transpired below. Yet he did not move from the rooftop vantage point as what unfolded below was happening. He simply listened with sharp hearing, and watched the fading of nightfall into the rising gleam of morning. He waited patiently; seated on shingles with feet dipped over the edge, and when he could tell the young maiden was asleep in the room undearneath, he finally began to move. Surely she would rest but a short time; making his options limited and his chances at success small, but either way, he had invested too much time to simply let the chance slip away without some effort.<br/><br/>With a veil pulled up and over his lips; entire body bathed in a black cloak, and nothing but his eyes visible against the darkness of his outfit, he swung down and into the room with a gentle and quiet landing. His feet made no sound atop the old wood floor; no creaking nor groaning from the wood as he slipped across the room and checked the door for anyone nearby. He was left in the still shadowed interior, with but a dagger, and his target lightly slumbering nearby. He had no interest in waking the woman who lay fully dressed and barely asleep, and yet he spotted no other valuables in the open room. Perhaps he had been mistaken and chose incorrectly. He was sure she would have something worth looting, and yet there in the darkness his attuned yets found nothing but her unconscious form, and the remnants of a plan drifting away.