The dark figure slipped silently through the castle, nimbly avoiding the guards, stepping lightly past the trip-wires, and avoiding the mystic wards that lay about Castle Blackthorn. At last, looking rather bored, he came upon at large valorite door. Pulling a large key that seemed to absorb light from his robe, he tapped the door twice with the key, said something unintelligible, and pointed the key at the locks. The locks obligingly opened, and the door swung wide without so much as a creak or a groan.
He stepped inside, and pulled the door closed behind him. Casting some glowing sand on the floor, he peeked under a velvet cloth, and smiled. Taking the object under his arm, he drew a strange sigil in the sand, and stepped onto it – and promptly vanished, as the sand blew in all directions across the floor.
About a week later, when the king went to reminisce, he was most displeased. Thankfully, his mages and scryers were able to tell which direction the stolen item had been taken in, if not much else.
Far across the ocean, a pirate sensed the scrying spells. “Oh, parrot legs!” he swore, and prepared to set sail.
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