By some blessing from the nine, or in his case one of the Daedric Princes that didn't completely want to rip out his innards at this point, Tagorn not only managed to keep his mouth shut during the groups little meeting with the Renrija-Krin, but to keep from pilling his own skin off in an attempt to deal with the increasingly intense burring sensation dancing all over his body. [I] I swear by Molag-Bal I'm going to paint the walls with somebody when this is all over. [/I] The Wood Elf thought to himself in an attempt to take his mind off his current pain, though he would of mostly likely been having the same thoughts even if he didn't feel like he was sitting in a fire place.

Luckily for the undead mer the plan was being put into action rather quickly. Tagorn had placed himself a bit away from the main traffic of the city flow, finding a nice shadowy alleyway entrance just across the road of the wall he would need to scale to get to the window of the barracks' storage room. The usual smirk that Tagorn normally wore was gone, though no one could tell under his mask, and was replaced by a stern expression. The Bosmer was completely focused on getting up the wall, retrieving the supplies and getting out of the damned sun.

Tagorn looked like he would never move from his shade until the loud whistle rang out through the square and with that he was dashing across the road towards the wall. For a moment it looked like he would run head on into the wall but at the last moment he sprang into the air and grabbed onto the stones that made up the wall. Mere seconds after that Tagorn was scaling the wall with a surprising speed, his hands finding the tiniest of crevasses to grab onto and pull himself further up the wall. Luckily for him no one seemed to notice the hooded figure scaling the wall, everyone below either running from the attacking Khajiit or trying to put out the spreading fire.

It was very shortly after he started that Tagorn had made it up the wall and to the opening of the window. [I] By Oblivion! [/I] He cursed in his head when he spotted the guard in the room, seeming to take stock of all of the confiscated items. Tagorn was in no mood to try to fight it out over someone else's crap, especially during the day, so he decided to go with a quitter approach. With no sound that could be heard the Bosmer pulled himself into the room and moved into a crouching position before creeping up behind the guard. Like a serpent striking Tagorn quickly had his arm around the man's throat cutting off any and all air the guard could get. The man started to claw desperately at the Wood elf's arm in an attempt to pry it off of him, but to no avail. Soon after the guard let out a few more choked gags he fell limp in Tagorn's arms.

"Hmm possibilities." The Wood Elf said to himself as he looked over the unconscious guard, practically grinning through his mask. But Tagorn merely shook himself out of his monstrous thoughts. "No. Maybe when I have more time for fun." He said as he moved over to the room's chest. He quickly picked the lock and popped the chest open. [I] By the Shivering Isles! They never told me what to take! [/I] Tagorn thought to himself as he looked over the countless things in the chest. There were things from iron daggers to gold to even copies of the lusty Argonian maid. With a slight sigh the Bosmer grabbed a large sack from near by and filled it up with the contents of the chest.

After filling up the sack Tagorn moved back to the window. He looked over his shoulder at the still slumbering guard and let out a slight smirk. "I'm going to have to catch a meal before we head out." He said to himself before looking out of the window. Not even a moment after that the Bosmer leaped out of the window, the sack hanging over his shoulder. He landed with a loud thud on the roof of the building opposite of the window. But as quickly as he landed he jumped again down into the near by ally. Tagorn let out a chuckle before turning and starting to dash his way away from the barracks and to the meeting point.