[Winter SQ] Confusion

[Lessomm]

Lessomm ran right after Rayage, working his way easily through the crowd and into the passage. He had no idea who they were after but the man who Rayage was following seemed to be quite focused. As they moved into the more narrow streets the sounds of the square seemed to die away behind them and Lessomm found himself listening only to his own breathing and heartbeat. No shouting, no booing and no cheers when people died. He hoped his master was alright and hadn't been involved in the mess. He saw the man jump first, followed by rayage. When the first one landed a door smashed open and into his face, which took Lessomm back somewhat. There was yelling from the door and then it closed again. Everything happened in but a moment and then the small canal and the little roads on both side were as they were before. The chase continued as the man followed some track that passed Lessomm by completely. He was only here because Rayage was here and the large man seemed intent on following on his course. He watched for a moment as the man tried to climb after someone, at least this time Lessomm had seen a part of a black cloak at the top. Something more substantial than just the word of a random man in a crowd. Said man came back down to the ground, his climbing effort futile. From behind him a very familiar voice sounded, barking orders, and the Eypharian turned around. "Yes, ma-..." The word stuck in his throat. Behind him was not his master. No skull mask on his face, no black arm in a sling, no walking staff to lean on because of his heavy limp. A young man stared at him instead. It was Rayage who drew Lessomm from his surprise, calling by name that which seemed to elude the servant. Ender was not a ball or a wristband but a fully fledged human running past him. Lessomm turned to the wall in front of him and started unbuttoning the black coat and white shirt underneath. He pulled his arms through the sleeves of both flexed his shoulders back, pushing the clothes back, letting them drop from his shoulders. His belt, tied around them, kept them from falling to the floor while no longer restricting the movement of all six of his arms. Without a second thought he started climbing the wall, using most of the same patches and crumbled bricks as the other man had done before falling. While six arms did allow him more places to hold on to, it was mostly his legs that did the work. The arms were just there to keep him stable while the legs pushed him higher and higher. He gripped himself onto the frame of a closed window with one hand while tow others held onto nothing more than a small crack in the bricks. One arm reached further up, grasping for a piece of metal sticking out the wall, barely a finger thick and nothing more than a knob. He lifted one foot, leaving the other on a stable part of the wall and pushed himself further up. His fingers grasped onto the edge of the roof. From there a lot of things happened at the same time. While Lessomm started pushing himself up with his feet, he managed to get another five fingers over the edge and holding onto the not so solid roof tiles. His four other hands were still holding onto the window frame as the lowest point and the crack in the wall and the metal knob between it and the edge of the roof. While all this was in motion, his instincts started bubbling up djed from within his being, pushing it to the surface of his skin and hovering above it. What if the man was waiting up there for him, just to snipe him off or stab him in the face when he peeked over? He had no way to defend himself from the steel that waited just ahead. As the thought pushed through his mind, the djed slipped through the pores of his skin and oozed out over him, patching itself together on a level that could not be discerned by mere human eyes. The Djed from each pore formed a miniscule hexagon and touched with its neighbours to finish the tapestry that would become the shield around him. It started from the crown of his head and the tips of his fingers and interlocked its way down his body. As he pushed himself closer to the edge of the roof the little protrusion his foot was pushing down on suddenly disappeared, breaking off under the weight of the servant. Suddenly finding his weight hanging on his arms, rather then being supported from below by his feet, the Eypharian dangled from the side, his arms stretching from the weight. He could feel his stomach sink deeper than the fall had actually taken him and he dangled from the roof for a moment. His hands were now the only thing between him and falling down to the solid stone pavement below. Now would be a good time for the steel to strike him. His djed finished its interlocking and turned a solid. Or as solid as an invisible, cloth like shield could be. The fear of steel cutting his fingers, stabbing his head or piercing whatever it could find provided the shield with a single task to perform. Fully functional now and with a purpose, the shield draped itself over the Eypharian like a cloak, covering him from head to toe. The crack and the knob wheren't good supports so while his two arms still grasped the edge, Lessomm quickly brought the rest up to join them, holding onto the edge with five hands. The sixth hand slipped down and into one of the waiting gauntlets, clicking it off of his belt and ready to be used. Planting his foot firmly against the window frame, he started pulling up and lifted his head over the edge, peeking towards the steel dagger that he was sure was waiting for him there.

[Crypt]

OOC Note :

Darn. How do I even follow the twain without getting spotted? I know! Cheat code activate: invisibility! Bah!

I want Tweedledee and Tweedledum!

A call to him... or at least in his general direction. Perhaps to the Paladin and his... Master Apprentice, going by the name of Miro? An impressive title, but Crypt could come up with better given a few seconds. But he did see her meet his eyes for just a moment - just an instant - with clear intent.

I suppose I should go... But I'll have to make myself nondescript. Can't be seen interfering with the Ebonstryfe, even though I'm working for the Nitrozians.

He moved away from the two immediately, heading for one of the many alleys that led away from the Plaza. Glancing around and noting the lack of observers, most probably because of the events that had just happened in the execution ground, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the mark of Ionu on his shoulder, allowing the tingling that had started to spread all over himself. Seconds later, he opened his eyes, noting with approval the layers of sight illusions spread over himself, his clothes and weapons. He was nearly invisible - a shimmering in the sunlight and a shadow cast on the ground was all that marked the presence of Crypt.

Now, to sneaky business.

He moved swiftly, keeping to the shadows on the side of the buildings until he reached the door that the old crone had entered. Thankfully, the door was still open.

Inside, the entire place was dusty. It appeared to be a warehouse of some kind, but smaller and much more disused. A rough, but simple, maze of objects occupied most of the room, but Crypt managed to make his way through, bumping into no objects except the still-swinging bundle of smoked fish hanging from the ceiling - which gave rise to a hastily muffled curse.

The area in which the old woman was seated in was large enough for him to move around the edge, standing in the shadow of an enormous crate to prevent his shadow from giving himself away.

Hmm. Nasty looking cookies. More like hardtack than anything else. I'll pass on that.

Noting that the irritating feeling was getting stronger, he deduced that its source was one of the two men in front of him.

He activated his Auristics with a blink of the eye, ready to view the auras of the two in front of him.

[Abstract]

OOCOnly half of you voted! Tsk. Anyways, The Chase and The Talk it shall be!

The Chase

Lessom's climb ended quite successfully, with no one shoving a knife in his face. Actually, his quarry could be seen carefully maneuvering over uneven rooftops, heading at a slower pace than before. If Lessom was faster, he might catch up. The roofs connected quite nicely, mostly with only the occasional space to hop over. They weren't incredibly steep, but still had a slant that made uneven footing. The cloaked man was moving carefully for a reason.

The other three could easily cross the canal with Ender's bridge. On the other side, they would find a small path heading in the general direction that their quarry had, though it was a bit of a squeeze. However, as long as they headed in a generally straight direction, they would be able to follow the two men's passage over the rooftops, and even occasionally catch glimpses of them.

NoteNothing exciting for a bit, feel free to describe the ups and downs of your chases. Don't catch up just yet, though... saving that for the next post!

The Talk

The old woman frowned as no one accepted her offer. Actually, her friendly expression turned into something completely opposite, distaste. "Whaddya have against my cookies?" she demanded, utterly displeased. She set her knitting down and crossed her arms, scowling a little.

At Sevris' question, she snorted. "Yer not very nice, sonny," she told him bluntly, as if it was a very important and grave lesson. She didn't even bother to answer the question, instead turning to Miro, who seemed to fail in acting as if he was not there. "An' no masks in my house. 'Ts not allowed. I'm still a little iffy on the helmet... This last was directed back at the Paladin, her expression distasteful.

However, her eyes and scolding tongue continued around the room. Amazingly, she knew of Crypt's presence, and addressed him in the same tone. "Aaaand you. No skulking in my house either! Show yerself or leave." If the man came forward, her expression would soften, and she'd ask "Cookie?" whilst pointing at the still-full platter. She seemed incredibly determined to feed someone her creation. She also was not going to give up anything until they followed her rules.

[Miro]

Miro grinned at the woman's comment, but kept himself reserved for now. He was unsure if it was uncouth to speak back to her while she used such a harsh tone, so he held his tongue. In the past he had met a few of her kind, but never in his current state. She treated him as if he were no different than Sevris, or, wait, there was another person in the room with them? The wizard turned in shock, his paranoia bearing meaning, a stalker! With his sense of a Death marked nearby, he could only assume the worst.

The Reimancer began to pull his Djed to the surface of his flesh leak an amount of liquid Res under his cloak. He would not dare to cause a ruckus in this woman's house who was to be of assistance, but was torn between duties. Uldr's will and the undead's own personal safety bade him to concern over the hidden man. However his duty to Rhysol and the Paladin told him that this important task he was issued with took priority. As such the man would be ignored for now, and the old woman would be dealt with to the best of the wizard's capacity.

Luck for the wizard his capacity included Hypnotism. He expanded his aura of influence to enshroud the woman and limped his way over to her. "E-excuse me, ma'am?" He hoped he had gotten her attention, and began to talk further. He empowered his words with a charming emotional response to lighten her mood "I would very much like to have one of your cookies, if that would be alright." It was not often the undead ate, but when he did, it was usually quite enjoyable. Things such as cookies were dry, and as such a drink would be required. "And if it wouldn't be too much trouble, as well might I have some water?"

The idea of a hidden stalker was still quite disturbing, but it was nothing a Chained One was beyond handling. Now that the presence was known in the city, it was something that would need to be resolved. He was sure the Eiyon felt the same sensing the Returned's existence as well. Their gods demanded it. It was growing increasingly unsettling however, and he was eager to settle things with this woman and leave. "You'll have to forgive me for the mask miss, it does not come off. I would gladly remove it otherwise, but I am without the ability. However I will gladly leave if that is what you wish. I have but one request to make first."

Miro used his most sincere and kind voice as he spoke, and once again channeled Hypnotism. A set of emotional response were carried on his voice, this time of responsibility and compliance. "I am on a very important task for Rhysol, and your assistance would be greatly appreciated." The wizard smirked beneath his mask. "And if possible, I would be interested in purchasing some of your cookies. You of course will be compensated for any assistance you provide though." There was not much that could be offered from someone best left in the shadows, but he at least played his hand.

[Verin Rush]

The bridge was truly something remarkable, and Verin watched with avid fascination as the small humanoid hardened the water into ice. With very limited magical ability himself, he had some little to study the various arts, though he knew of them, and know that his brother was interested in the craft. From there, he had picked up the odd piece of information, though he had never seen or heard of anything like this. Watching the cloaked man walk across the bridge, however, he knew it must at least be safe. The young blond raised a brow as he heard the man talk, advising him of what he was getting into, and who he was associating with. But he bit his tongue as he crossed the makeshift bridge. He wanted to remind the man that, without Verin, he would not be here to warn the bartender of what he was getting into. Verin might appear to be small and insignificant to the wizard, perhaps even useless or expendable, but he had been vital to the onset of the chase. And it seemed, from the man’s lethargic pace now and before, he would continue to have use, even if the man didn’t care to admit it to himself. “Old? Cripple? Nuit?” He looked to healthy to be the last, but he wouldn’t put it past a wizard to have a glamour of some form… The bowman’s actions were clearly not part of the proceedings of the execution, and he was therefore against the Black Sun, and possibly even a danger to the city. Wizards or not, he would see what he started through to the end. Whether that end would be death or success and recognition from his God, only time would tell. As he brushed past the wizard, he gave the man a hard, determined look. “I hope it does,” he responded coldly, to let the man know that he was insulted, and not easily deterred from his endeavours. Once past the man, he glanced around at the path, pleased that it seemed to turn the same way that the man had run along. Again, the path was narrow, meaning that he seemed unable to pick up much speed. To his advantage, however, the archer was running across a more uneven surface than the one he was on, meaning that they were evenly matched. For the most part, he followed the strange, magical creature in front of him, though he wasn’t going to trust anything, or anyone, that he didn’t know the name of; every so often he glanced up, pale blue eyes searching the rooves for the man or the Eypharian (“It should have been obvious what he was from the bulge…”) following him. Sometimes, he saw nothing and he continued on, blind of whether or not he was actually going in the right direction. Sometimes, he spotted spot a shadow, or caught a glimpse of fabric, or even part of a body. Each time, he spurred himself on faster, getting more and more desperate to be the one to prove his quality to the Black Sun. Paths narrowed and widened in turn as he passed between houses and along canals, all the while trying to keep sight of one of the roof-runners. He could no longer tell where he was though; was the archer planning to run to the edge of the city and swim to shore? Or would he just continue to circle the rooves of the buildings until he collapsed from exhaustion? Both seemed unlikely, but Verin reminded himself that he would be able to do a much better job of cutting the assailant off if he knew the paths of the city better. He wasn’t running at top speed, due to the turns and tight alleys, but the time was taking its toll on his stamina. His breathing became more and more laboured and he clutched at his side as it cramped up. “C’mon, Verin…” he whispered under his breath. He wasn’t a motivational speaker at the best of times, least of all to himself, but he tried anyway, reminding himself of what was at stake, “Pain lasts for but a moment. Glory lasts forever.” He didn’t see himself getting glory from this business, but it would be a step in the right direction, and it was enough to spur him on.

[Lessomm]

Lessomm kicked one leg up and managed to hook it over the edge of the roof. Pulling himself up on his arms he managed to get his entire body on the rooftop, rolling to his knees and standing up. With his bare chest gleaming with sweat, the Eypharian started to run after the target, which had finally changed from something he had heard from Rayage who had heard it from someone else to something tangible and real. The black cloaked man was heading over the rooftops in front of him, making slow progress. At first, Lessomm attributed it to his stamina and he started a sprint after the man. He rushed after the man and jumped the first gap easily. It was only when he landed that he changed his opinion on the man's slow pace. His feet connected well with the roof tiles but as he pushed himself off to rush on, the tiles slide away under his feet, causing him to lose balance and slip down the tiles, creating a cascading rooftile avalance, drawing Lessomm in with them. The edge of the roof came closer as sudden fear gripped the Eypharian's heart. Lessomm rolled on his stomach and reached out with all six arms, grabbing at tiles that came loose under his weight. He clawed at the loose tiles until finally he managed to hold onto a roof beam that carried his weight. He grabbed hold with more hands and looked over his shoulder, feeling his feet dangle over the edge. Carefully, Lessomm crawled back up to the top of the roof. The tiles had created a ruckus down on the pavement as they crashed and broke into pieces. With that experience under his belt, Lessomm took up a slower pace, balancing his way over the rooftops, taking careful jumps over the gaps between the roofs. Every now and then he glanced to the side and saw Ender, Rayage and the guide follow on the ground level. While his speed allowed him to keep up with the man, it did nothing to close the gap between them. And while the Eypharian was starting to breathe more heavily from the exertion, his target never seemed to slow down. Whereever the roof was flatter or the top part allowed for it, Lessomm put in more speed in his run, using all six arms to balance himself whenever he did. Once or twice he slipped but he never went down a second time. He had to catch up to his target before he got seperated even more from Rayage and Ender. It wasn't that he doubted his own skill in combat but it was always easier to take someone down when there were three or four in your team and only one in their team. His swallowtail coat and white shirt flapped behind him as he ran on, trying to shorten the distance.

[Sevris]

Miro had taken the helm and tried to steer the woman in the right direction. His helpfulness would of been sullied had Sevris decided to say his piece. The Lazarin was getting quite irritated and his anger was something to beware, but he kept it in check. No sense going nuts over a crazy old hag, however information was hard to come by right at that second. So he would treat his witnesses with respect. He took a cookie and was about to bite into it when the old lady pointed out another person there. He whipped around and looked to where she indicate Next to him clear as day Sevris saw silver like mist begin to emit itself from Miro. A dark expression came over the Paladins face. What he was witnessing was the manipulation of Res. Its control and form suggested Reimancy, yea it was so beautiful. He wondered if anyone had been able to see such things they would think so harsh about magic. But realization came into effect when he remembered where they were at. He leaned himself to Miro's ear and quickly whispered, "Calm yourself Wizard." Sevris gave him a look as if to say "Don't burn us down." Sevris turned his attention for a mere second to other man in the room whom had followed them. He cared not for this, it was not important to the relevant siutation. Miro would deal with him if anything. He turned back to the old lady, "Forgive me my lady. I am Sir Sevris Lazarin. Thank you for the cookies, but as my Apprentice has stated. We are in need of your help. And time is of the essence. If you may?" He ended on that note with a bite of the cookie. It tasted staler than it looked, but he kept a straight face the whole time.

[Crypt]

Petch. Petch. Petch.

Sevris had a relatively normal aura, although a particular colour - old gold - was concentrated around both of his arms. A few ticks would pass before Crypt received more information about that. It appeared that the muscles there were more well-developed than an average man, indicating that he trained them frequently. Perhaps a melee weapon of some sort. That was standard for most Ebonstryfe members.

Miro's aura was frightening. Never mind the strange, eerie feeling Crypt obtained with but a glance at the phantasmagorical mask he wore. He was powerful. A mage, a master of at least one Art. Crypt viewed auras in terms of fractals and their iterations, and Miro's was far too complex for him to comprehend in such a short time.

Shyke. This is no joke. The dense aura indicates that he's practiced magic, and he's damn good at it. He smells [i]wrong, like fruits gone bad. Maybe some old injuries, necrosis, whatever it is? I don't know. And Reimancy too? Gods, what have I gotten myself into?[/i]

Crypt resisted the urge to simply run away from the warehouse as fast as humanly possible - even though a Reimancer could simply have the earth trap him.

And then the old hag pointed him out.

He made an audible sigh. Allowing the darkness that shrouded him to melt away (literally, as he couldn't quite suppress his delight in showing off to others with Ionu's mark), a man of roughly forty years of age with brown hair, no tattoos and normal-looking eyes appeared, dressed in a yellow suit, pants and shoes.

Best to improvise. I might look weird, but it'll distract them. Momentarily, most probably, but anything helps. I cannot show myself. The Nitrozians do not deem me important enough to get me out of any trouble.

"Alright. You've got me. Sir Lazarin, Master Apprentice."

He nodded casually - as if he wasn't frantically thinking of ways to get out of being brutally murdered, incarcerated or tortured - to the twain, stumbling on the 'Sir' part for just a moment before continuing.

Darn, I'm too used to using 'Ser' in front of the Syliran Knights. Keep them off guard, keep talking. Don't let them try to kill you... As if you had a chance, Crypt.

"I suppose I'll have one. Don't suppose you have some coffee or rum to go with that?"

Another thought struck him then as he moved past the two, forcing himself not to flinch as he passed the mage that emanated Res, and took a cookie, biting down on it and chewing liberally before swallowing.

Oh dear. If I recall correctly, one of the assassins that attempted to kill one of the Nitrozians did something similar to what I did. Jumping into shadows and moving away? Petch. If they connect the dots, they might think I'm that assassin. Damnit Crypt. You're not doing very well here.

[Abstract]

OOCI'm so sorry for the delay on this! But let it continue as normal!

The Chase

Probably to Lessomm's surprise, the man stopped running abruptly, skidding to a halt on a particularly slanted roof. He knelt, using one hand to keep a hold on the peak of the roof, while his body obviously heaved... he was out of breath. This would give the butler plenty of time to catch up. However, once the Eypharian was five or so meters away, the man would whip his head around and stare wide eyed at his chaser. Seeing the danger, he would stand up and spin abruptly, stumbling back a few steps until he reached an odd, flat, protrusion right on the edge. Empty air appeared behind.

Still breathing heavily, the tall, brown-haired man lifted something up out of his cloak, holding it with practiced hands, steadier than the rest of his body. It was a crossbow, already loaded, with the bolt pointed straight at Lessomm. With the weapon in hand, he visibly relaxed, eyes narrowing in a cool stare. He didn't say anything, just... waited.

Though it seemed a sticky situation for the Eypharian, there was actually help on the way. The small platform-like thing their quarry was standing on was actually where the top of a ladder ended, descending down onto one of the winding street paths. In fact, the group on the ground would pass straight by this ladder, after turning around a sharp corner, and easily see the dark silhouette standing on the edge....

The Talk

The woman seemed very pleased at Miro's statement, grinning widely, and showing crooked and yellowed teeth. At the request for water, she pushed herself unsteadily out of the chair, and hobbled over to an old, stoneware pitcher that had a few remaining flakes of what might have been a glazed design on it. She lifted it up, poured some into an available battered wooden cup, and passed it happily to the reimancer, before plopping back into her seat.

She pouted a little as she learned the mask could not be removed, but was still pleased with the man's willingness, so shook it off. However, when the offer to buy cookies came, she shook her head. "I aint a bakery, y'know. Just eat em." To Crypt, who'd just appeared, she scowled. "Coffe's expensive, and it's too early fer rum..." At least he'd eaten a cookie, though.

With all three men gathered, she finally smiled (almost pleasantly) at them. "So... y'wanna know what I know? I know why 'e did it. I know who 'e is." She gave a small cackle, and explained her story. The explanation for the first statement was easy, in her opinion. The Rising Dawn didn't want to die by Rhysol's hand. They had accepted death, sure, but still wanted to spite the god of chaos. So, they'd arranged for at least one of the members to be killed before they were hung. They knew it would cause a commotion.

The second question would probably bring up a few thoughts on how she knew all that. The archer -actually a crossbow man- was a hunter, though well known among his profession for his long-range accuracy. He was also a Rising Dawn sympathizer, something he'd kept secret from everyone. He was hired to murder one of the leaders before they went to their grave by Rhysol's hand, and took the job willingly...

The tale ended abruptly, the elderly woman grinning in excitement to see the trio's reactions.

NoteI'm not writing her dialogue because I the accent is sort of annoying, and hard...

[Verin Rush]

So tired was Verin growing, as he ran, jogged and walked the alleyways and paths that the lake city had to offer, that he forgot to look up at the rooves of the buildings in search of the bowman the group of three... "or four, of we include the bizarre, magical creature following," were chasing after. There were few other routes that he could have taken, as Verin passed no optional other pathways, and so he continued, blindly expecting that he was going the right way. He knew, after all, that the Eypharian was also on the rooftops and he could distantly make out the louder sounds of two people against the brick and wood, compared to just the one. The noise was constant - it didn't lessen and it didn't grow louder, so Verin must always be the same distance away. As long as he could hear them, he must be heading in the right direction. But Verin's pace was slowing, and by a rather considerable amount. His breathing was hitched and the stitches in his side were growing more and more painful. His concentration was slipping and the blood was rushing to his head. He could hear his own heartbeat, which made it harder to hear the footfalls above. He wondered if he could even make it much further, though he was beginning to doubt the optimistic voice inside his head; the optimistic voice that told him he could make it, that the assailant must also he getting tired, that he just had to go a little further and he would make it. "Optimisim to the point of foolishness, clearly," came the more natural, derivative voice that Verin was more accustomed to hearing in his own voice. Eventually, he glanced up, out of chance; his eyes were actually partially closed when he first breathed in, groaning in pain. Then he opened his eyes and, seeing no one, not even a shadow above, he skidded to a halt. Wildly, pale blue eyes darted around, desperate to seek out the figure as he breatheddeeply, clutching at his side - if lost, Verin's efforts would have been fruitless and it would be up to the six-armed creature who was, from what Verin had overheard of his conversation at the Plaza with the wizard, was little more than a servant. There was no way he was trusting a task of this importance to a servile being, no matter how loyal or useful he was. His eyes caught the sun's pale winter rays and, in front of it, he spied the silhouette of the tip of a head, just around the corner he had last turned. Sighing in relief, he jogged back and, seeing a ladder that he had completely missed the first time, approached it. Resting his hands on the rungs, he bent over and breathed in deeply, trying to return to something more on par with normal. " Gods, just me strength..." he silently prayed as he gulped in air, knowing that, if his prayers reached anyone, it would be his own, the one he was currently fighting to serve. A few moments later and he felt prepared to climb though he did so slowly - his limbs ached, particularly his legs, and they burned and trembled as they took the strain of his weight once again. It was completely unintentional, but Verin was lucky enough to find that, as he climbed each rung at a slow pace, he was able to move in relative silence, and hopefully the archer couldn't hear him as he tea termed on the edge. The ladder wasn't particularly stable, and Verin could not boast to be a big fan if heights so he prayed that, if the wizard and... other creature... saw him, they would have the sense to hold the ladder, rather than force more weight onto it. For what he had in mind, anyway, he would likely need someone to steady the base of the ladder, lest it wobble under his movements and come away from the wall. He slowed even more as he got higher, now actively trying to remain silent and undetected by the man on the edge of the roof above. Once high enough, looked up to notice that the bowman had, once again, drawn his weapon and was no doubt aiming it at the servant. A grim smile fell onto his lions as he was proven right and he gripped on tightly to the rung with his left hand as he reached out with his right, leaning forward to balance himself. In one swift motion, he grabbed at the bowman's ankle and yanked back, so that, if effective, the man would drop his weapon or fall to the floor of the roof himself, but he would not tumble off of the roof and fall to his death on the ground.