Maps... he didn't know why he even bothered. Maps weren't provided for the clandestine mage's tower in the west. There wasn't even any evidence that anything existed inside the tower. The granite walls were covered in vines crawling up from the browning grass on all sides, and the spires swirling along the top were snapped and broken. The base of the tower was fringing along a myriad of sweeping hills, and the building was placed in the small valley so the hills hid vision from almost all around. He wasn't even sure if the tower would hold his weight as he sat there inspecting it. Least he would die trying to get some ridiculous artifact. After all, he was Tace Alveron, a highly noteworthy thief, rogue, and occasional assassin. It depended on what he was paid to do or what he felt like doing in the moment. He did so enjoy his job, especially when it included shiny jewels, like the one he was about to steal. Least he hoped he was about to steal one. The mage's tower, most often called Gemspire, was named so for a reason. Rumors told of gems and artifacts filled to the brim with the magics of old. They were extremely valuable and dangerous, and so far, it was the only place the thief knew of that handled such things. It was why he'd decided to take one... or all of them. Tace hopped up from his sitting position, looking back into the sparse treeline to where his small pack horse was pulling up weeds. He didn't care much for stealing horses, but the one he'd procured was older and made for a nice, if temporary, traveling companion. Besides, something needed to carry his bounty for him. The horse also held a spare set of clothes for him, identical to the ones he wore now. The thief pulled his attention back to the tower where it sat, foreboding and mysterious. He could handle that. A quick jog brought him to the bottom, standing in the shade of the massive tower. It was growing darker by the minute, but the sun still cast small, yet brilliant rays along the ground. To his disappointment, it didn't reflect on anything shiny that might have been worthwhile to steal, but he wasn't even inside yet. A fleeting thought crossed his brain; he had no rope. Flipping a hand at himself, Tace jumped and snagged his fingers into a hole where the wall was missing a granite brick. There were various spots where the tower was simply falling apart, but to the thief, they were hand and footholds, perfect for climbing when he had no outside materials. It didn't take him long to reach a window, as there were a few placed along the length of the tower. He attempted to pry one open with one hand, and when that didn't work, he simply smashed the old wood and glass, creating a broken entrance. There were no torches inside, and Tace was immediately pitched into black. He fumbled for a minute until he gained his bearings and his eyes adjusted to the minimal light. Nothing shined and nothing sparkled, which was an instant downer. He had to remind himself that he was only up the tower about halfway, and there was still plenty of ground to cover below and above. He found a set of spiraling stairs, but they were only ascending. Running his gloved hand along the wall, he made his way up the flight, around and around until he came to a door. It creaked as he pushed it open, causing him to stop and peer inside, just in case an ancient mage was prowling around, waiting to spring a trap. When nothing happened, Tace slipped inside, searching around for anything. He only succeeded in finding an unlit torch, but a quick strike with his knife tip against the stone was enough to send sparks fluttering onto the wood, creating a small fire. With his light in hand, Tace continued to wander up the tower, but he got the distinct feeling that he wasn't alone. He liked being alone, but the strange feeling kept creeping along his senses until he made sure that he was alert enough to watch and listen for anything that would betray another presence.