Aranthis takes a minute to remove her armor to make climbing down and back up easier. After doing so she helps up top until it's her time to climb down.
"Stand back, kids. I was a regular monkey back in the day," chirps Phoenix. The middle-aged man makes a small show of stretching and performing several rather pathetic squats before grasping the rope and attempting his descent.
Watching the rope drop into the chasm, Aranthis allows herself a laugh. "Nice work there Zogar!" she says teasingly.
Digging out her own rope, she sets about trying to find a better place to anchor it.
"I may have been too eager to move on," the Kellid agreed sheepishly. "I shall make amends." He went to knot Aranthis' rope, then tried again to help their wards make the descent.
Unable to direct their wards effectively with his temper getting in the way, Zogar gave up and let the others help them down before lowering those who could not climb. He then hurried down himself.
"Let us climb up again before the earth decides to close on us."
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Zogar manages to climb down, though his assistance is enthusiastic, it is without fruit.
Anevia does her best to help the blind wizard down the rope, giving him reassurances and coaching him carefully as he goes. . Realizing the severe difficulties the blind man must face on his way down, the mongrel men also do their best to assist.
Breathing a sign of relief that they have gotten the blind man down, the mongrel men, Horgus, and Anevia each climb slowly but surely down the rope anchored by Aranthis.
Aranthis takes her time climbing down and then attempts to climb up the other side without aid, taking the rope that'd fallen in the chasm with her.
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Ghorza give Zogar a teasing grin before carrying her pack to the other side of the chasm. She takes out the silk rope from her pack, ties it around the straps, makes sure it's closed properly and everything is secure before hoisting herself up the rope, carrying the other end of the silk rope with her.
Once safely up top, she hauls her gear up as well.
Zogar sighed at Ghorza's teasing, knowing he would have a hard time living down his embarrassing lack of climbing skills. He had to try, though. Hefting the wounded mongrelman, he carried him onward.
When they reached the underground village, Zogar shot Horgus a warning look to keep his commentary to himself. "If you are wary of outsiders, perhaps you should warn them we are coming," he suggested to the mongrelmen.
Aranthis nods in agreement with Zogar. "It'll be nice to be somewhere safe and quiet for a change," she says, clearly eager for a chance to rest without worrying about the possibility of being attacked.
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Lann nods his understanding and takes point as you enter a large twenty foot diameter cavern.
"Halt! Who goes there?" a husky voice demands as your party breaches the pool of light spilling from a large stone gate at the far end.
A look of comprehension fills the four guards' faces as Lann steps forward. "Lann! We were afraid we had lost you all! The quakes have been intense. The village is mostly unharmed, but you are four hours late reporting in! Tell us what has befell you?"
Lann smiles his warmest smile back at the captain of the small guard, "The quake destroyed our tower. The entire thing came down on us. Lucky for me, I was outside, spying on that nasty dwarf when I heard the ruckus. Crel was trapped inside, under a mountain of rubble. These new friends," Lann waves his arm to encompass the entirety of the party, "They helped us. That one there, the one with the same marks as the undead beast below, she, singlehandedly pulled a gigantic boulder off the rubble mound, freeing our dear friend Crel. Dyra didn't even growl at them. It is a good omen to have them here. Please welcome them to the village."
The guards look upon you with a certain amount of distrust, but Lann, true to his word, has vouchsafed your passage. The guards step aside, and the enormous stone door swings aside. "Welcome to Neathholm." they proudly announce as the village sweeps into view.
A small, dark lake ripples in the center of this two-hundredfoot-wide cavern, the walls and ceiling aglow with thick sheets of luminescent fungi. In the center of the lake, over two dozen low stone buildings cluster on a rocky one-hundred-foot-wide island. Lights glow in the windows of the buildings, giving the settlement an almost welcoming look. Rafts made of mismatched planks of timber bob along the length of a crooked pier at the lake’s closest shore.
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"I am Ghorza Lightseeker, Paladin of the Dawnflower. We thank you for allowing us into your city. It is truly a sight to behold' Ghorza says, admiring the cavern and the island at it's centre.
'While we may be a bit late in saying, we have slain the Dwarf. He almost killed Aranthis, despite us trying to calm him. We had no choice.
And if the undead you speak of is the one from the Temple of Torag, then we have slain it as well, and burned the body along with that of a giant fly that came too close.
We also spotted the corpse of a giant spider when we first arrived, killed the giant maggots that came out of it, then there were the cockroaches.
Aranthis shares the undead's markings as she is also a follower of Torag, but the markings are where the similarities end. She cleansed the Temple best she could with the little holy water that remained.
If there are any who follow him here, the temple is fit for ceremony once again." Ghorza informed the guard as the group walked through the stone door.
Aranthis turns to Ghorza as she finishes speaking. "On hearing that all recounted, it's been quite a day hasn't it? I think we just might have earned ourselves a rest!"
As they walk in, she smiles at the guards, then turns around to make sure that Anevia and Aravashnial are making it in alright. "How are you two holding up?" she asks them.
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The guards appear pleased that you appreciate their village, and nod to Lann as you pass the gates. As you enter, you cannot help but overhear Aravashnial beginning to grill the guards as to the exact nature of their deformities and whether or not they are in fact, to the best of their own knowledge, tainted by demonic blood, or whether their distorted features are simply the result of spending too much time near the worldwound's corrupting influence. It does not take a rocket surgeon to notice the guards might be beginning to take offense.
Impressed by the glowing village, it took a moment for Zogar to realize Aravashnial had not come with them. Spotting him busy with the guards, the Kellid leaned over to speak quietly with Phoenix. "Perhaps you should describe our wondrous surroundings to our friend," he nodded toward the blind elf meaningfully, "While I take Crel to whatever healers they might have here."
Phoenix lets out a heavy sigh, having already taken a few steps into the village. Zogar's voice pulled him out of whatever reverie he was experiencing due to the rich sights of the locale. Nix turns slowly towards his fellow wizard, taking in the other's words with a pained expression. The younger wizard struggles to keep embarrassment out of his voice, and offers a small, apologetic smile towards the guards.
"Aravashnial," Phoenix calls, "There is some sort of luminous fungus here that is quite fascinating, and I believe only someone with a superior intellect such as yours would be able to identify it. Why, I even bet you could do so without your sight if I described it to you..." Phoenix lets the comment hang in the air as a fisherman lets a worm hang on a hook.
Thankful for Zogar and Phoenix's quick reaction to the old elf's inappropriate questioning, Aranthis throws them a smile. I think that poor elf lost his tact with his eyes. It's a good thing Zogar and Phoenix have been able to keep him occupied.
Turning to Lann she says "I'd love to learn about your village and life down here, and I'm sure Ghorza is of the same mind. We also have news from above that your village will probably want to hear. Do you have elders here, who should we speak to?"
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Lann nods, "Chief Sull will listen to any news you have. He will need my report regardless, so let us journey just a little further together. The healer's hut is just beyond, so we can see her as soon as we are done with the chief."
Upon arrival at a large stone building dead center in the middle of the island, you are requested to remain outside while the chief listens to Lann’s report.
Once Lann is finished, Chief Sull personally comes to guide you to his small office, and offers his sincerest thanks for your assistance in saving one of his own. "We never really considered, not for generations, that the people above would grant us quarter. It is why we have remained below land for these many many centuries. It makes me a little sad, I have to admit."
Once Sull learns the source of the tremors that shook the tunnels and caused so much damage, he grows quite concerned. He and his kind, Sull explains, may be outcasts and freaks in the eyes of uplanders like yourselves, but their ancestors helped drive back the demons in the First Crusade. He wants the demons defeated as much as anyone who lives above, and asks, "If you are willing to carry the message to those above, please let them know that the mongrels below will stand with the inhabitants above to defend the glorious city go Kenabres."
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Ghorza places her fist over her heart and bows to the Chief.
"I am Ghorza Lightseeker, honorable Chief. A paladin of the Dawnflower, Sarenrae, and Crusader of Kenabres. I know not how such news will be taken, but I will make sure that such a message reaches compassionate ears. Taking into account everything that we've learnt, it is safe to say that views on your people will be mixed, at best."
Ghorza thinks for a moment, before sighing and becoming tranquil.
"Though this may be my thoughts alone, I feel that Sarenrae has blessed this place. For even in the dark and danger and barred from the sun light still glows upon those who need it.' she looks at the Chief and any other townsfolk present 'I of course mean no disrespect to any deity you worship, just that I can feel the Dawnflower here. I believe that those higher in the order would see that our goddess sees you to be good of heart, regardless of past prejudices and rumor."
While thinking of all they have found while down in the caverns, Ghorza remembers the brooch.
"Does a bat sitting on a mushroom hold any meaning to your people or anyone you know of? We found such a sign in a copper brooch. It may be purely an extravagant piece of jewelry, but none in our party have ever seen anything quite like it."
"I understand that your people have remained below for many centuries, but might you perhaps possess knowledge of a route to the surface?" Phoenix inquires.
Reiterating Ghorza's words, Aranthis also responds to the Chieftain. "We will make sure the message is heard. I'd like to think that even such a grim turn of events can lead to some good, surely the gods are watching over us." she says with a smile.
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Chief Sull nods sagely, his one good eye going a bit misty, "This is the last gift ever I gave my son. We had a fight about the traitors to the south, and he left. I fear I will never see his face again, but I thank you." The chief stands, and with a sweep of his beefy arm clears the dozens of accolades and awards he has collected over the decades, and places the pin on a nail in the center of the wall.
"He truly was the best of us. He warned us of the cultists and the traitors, and I could not hear the wisdom of his words. The lack of years I held against him. I will never have the chance to tell him what I cool I was and that I was wrong. He would have loved to hear me admit I was wrong, at least once in his lifetime. He never said as much, but a father can tell. . . The chief's large shoulders slouch even lower. "The way to the surface lies beyond the traitors encampment to the south, as I might have said. I will do what I can to aid you, thought I have no troops to spare. Come."
The chief lumbers from his office, and to a safe down the hall. Unlocking and opening the safe, he pulls out a tray of brightly colored vials.
"I don't know if you have the same magics on the surface, but these six potions are what we call "Cure Light Wounds". If you get injured, they can help you return to your right self. These three are far more valuable, we call them "Lesser Restoration". They fix all sorts of maladies, but generally not poison, though they can undo the harm caused by the poison. In addition, I want you to have this. It was my fathers, and was to be my son's. The chief pulls a spiked ball mounted to a hefty wooden haft from the safe. It is a magical morningstar. It has been passed through the generations. Rumor has it that this once belonged to one of the original crusaders who sought sanctuary down here. It is yours now. Please, as a favor to an old man who has lost far too much, use this to cave in the skull of at least one of the traitors."
After having delivered the items, the hied again beckons you to follow him. Wandering the streets of the village, Sull seems to have regained check over his emotions. "I will gather the tribes to Neathholm, and prepare us all for the battles to come. When you are ready, send an envoy back down, and I will do my best to have at least a small army prepared. As you near the center of the isle, the chief takes time to point out the various inns and shops, "They will all see me showing you around, and will be open to you all. Take this talisman, the chief removes a bauble from the fat rolls dominating thick neck below his pointy toothed face, "[b]It will allow you free room and board for as long as you need before continuing on, though I urge you to consider that allowing the traitors more time to forge bonds with cultists will only allow them more power."
Leaving to the southern most edge of the village, you come to a large, well guarded, stone gate. "beyond this gate is the traitors outpost, and directly beyond that is the surface world. The trail will not be easy, but I have faith in you. My son's spirit has brought you here, and lives on in your actions. May you do him justice."
Without further comment, the chief takes his leave, heading back to his small office, or home.
"I would have liked to know more of these cultists, and the traitors," Zogar rumbled to the others. "Crel, perhaps you can tell us their tale as we take you to your healer?"
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Crel smiles and nods, then almost instantly the smile vanishes, replaced by a look of doubt and deep concern, "Ah, yes, the cultists or traitors, or . . . That is much more complex a question than you might think. Better to start with Sull. Sull is old, older than he even looks. And, if I might say so without offending him, he looks really damn old. Really old. Anyhow, the chief has a theory, a guiding star, or philosophy.. . something. Sull believes that those above worlders, you folk, are at your heart, kind. It is only the ugly things we do that make us truly ugly. I think I am saying this all wrong. Let me start again."
The mongrel man takes a deep breath, and looks confused a moment, then continues on, "Chief Sull is a very old spirit. He is under the impression that no matter how deeply . . . He believes that you are not your outside, but you are the heart. Your actions make you who you are, not your appearance. He believes that the surface dwellers will gladly accept us back into their fold, but we have to be able to show them who we are so they don't mistake us for those who we look like. Does that make any sense at all? It does to me, but I am not sure I am explaining it at all well. . . Here comes Lann. I will let him explain."
In the distance the ram-elf-serpent man appears, walking towards the group with a jaunty step. As he approaches, Crel, obviously relieved, asks his friend to explain.
"Ah, that is a good question, now isn't it?" Lann smiles back at your group. "Chief Sull teaches us that good is going good for the sake of good itself. One should not judge by anything other than the actions of one's friends, and we are all friends. That is where the rub comes in, or came in, between Sull and his son. Ahn believed that the rules were of importance, Sull believed that the rules existed only as loose guidelines. Ahn advocated for the extermination of the traitors, and Sull advocated for their conversion. All of that is moot now it seems, but as to who they are, that is simple."
"Some of us grew tired of waiting for generation after generation for the chance to redeem ourselves in the eyes of the surface world. We have done no harm, but we are killed as demons more often than not if we enter your world. It is not your fault, we look like the generations old enemies who do so much harm, but we are not them. We just look like them. The bitterness that all of us taste at some point in time festers in some. It is like a slow poison. They come to believe that the only way we can return to the light is to take the light back by force, even if that means allying with the very forces our forefathers sought to eradicate from this world."
"The traitors are those who have been so poisoned. They used to come here, now and then, to recruit and increase their numbers. Now, there are probably dozens of tribes so tainted. They have opened them selves up to the corruption, and so the corruption came into them. Demon cults formed, as they often do, and their numbers grew in power. Ahn raised a small group of citizens, against his fathers wishes, and went out to bring the traitors back into the fold by brute force, rather than by love and understanding. No one has seen him or the other since, and that was quite some time ago. I think dear Chief Sull may have had as few as sixteen chins at the time! . . . I jest. Only to relive the tension, not to lessen the import of the curbing of the traitors ways, and numbers."
"I fear for Sull, he is now tasting the bitterness. Don't fear for the surface folk, his wrath is reserved for the traitors."
All sense of joy and frivolity has left Lann's face as he finishes his explanation. "Let us no longer focus on all that though. The Chief has asked me to help you get to the surface, and so I shall. Do you mind stopping by the seer's hut first? She may be able to help your friends, and I hate to admit, but I do want to see Crel all in one piece before we venture on."
"A sad tale you tell, Crel and Lann," Zogar said thoughtfully, hefting Crel in his arms to follow Lann to the seer's hut. "Your Chief's wisdom sounds in the heart of my friends, I think," he added, glancing at Ghorza. Then his voice hardened. "But demon cultists we cannot abide. We will do our best to end their evil, by whatever means we each have. The surface air will taste that much sweeter having done with them."
Aranthis nods in agreement with Zogar. "It is a sad tale indeed. It is truly a shame that the neglect and scorn of those in the city above has brought this darkness upon you down here. Zogar speaks true, I think if we had a chance, Ghorza and I would try to use words and deeds to change the hearts of those who can be swayed still." Reaching down to where the arrow had pierced her armor, she looks sad for a moment. "But I've also learned that sometimes even the purest of intentions and noblest of words are not enough."
"I swear that we will do everything in our power to sever the cultists ties down here and break the will of the traitors to fight. And when we return to the surface we will do what we can so this tragedy is not repeated in the future." she says in a solemn tone, the words seeming to echo in the cavernous chamber.
"Let us go see this seer, I'm sure Anevia and Aravashnial could use the help of someone more skilled than Ghorza or I."
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The seer's hut is small and a little on the gloomy side. Decorated with bone fetishes, desiccated darkmantle remains, and bits of moss, the hut has a distinctive odor. One of the prettier mongrelmen you have encountered, she appears to be an elf of gnomish stature, long violet hair decorated with the same materials as those that adorn her hut, and a look of sadness.
"Crel! What have you done to him this time, Lann? Haven't I warned you boys a thousand times? These caves are dangerous!" The woman hastens to get Crel laid out on one of her many cluttered tables. Once the man is laid out, she begins chanting and waving her hands over the body, and before long, Crel is whole and well again.
"There, now that that is done, who are your friends?"
Lann introduces your small group to the witch. She is immediately fascinated with the wounds Aravashnial and Anevia have suffered, "Oh, this will never do. Your bones will not set correctly without help, and your face. . . Tsk. Such a pretty face to have such ugly scars. We don't get many pretty faces, a shame to let one such as yours go to waste."
After taking her due time to analyze the wounds, she points out, "I can fix them, but alas I have to purchase the items needed from some neighboring tribes. I could have a runner back within the day, but it will take a decent amount of trade goods. What can you spare? I think about two thousand gold would cover it."
"I do not think the scars are ugly," Zogar protested in puzzlement, but from Anevia's expression, he could see that she did not agree.
He squinted when he heard the price the witch named. "I doubt that we carry anything worth so much, unless it be the silver dragon's scales." He crossed his arms, growled something to himself in the Kellid tongue, and finally turned to Phoenix. "Unless by your magics this can be accomplished?" he asked doubtfully.
When the seer mentions the cost to heal the two, she looks a bit defeated. "Would that we had such! We've only found a few things on our trip. Are blades and weapons highly sought down here? We found a mace when we cleared the temple of Torag, it was surely crafted by a skilled smith."
"Or perhaps we could aid the other tribes somehow to help defray the cost?"
"The scales were a gift from Terendelev, I don't know if we should part with them Zogar. They may be meant to serve a greater purpose. Although if there's a good reason to trade one away, I imagine healing Anevia and 'Vash would be it." she adds, looking a bit conflicted.
Phoenix shakes his head at Zogar. "No, I am sorry to say that it would not be feasible for a wizard of my power to conjure such a sum of gold into being. Unless there is a sort of underground market," Phoenix pauses to briefly chuckle at his own joke, "for conjured horses that can only exist in this plane of being for several hours, then I am afraid that my spells will do little to aid us in any sort of financial crisis.
Nor will my purse, I am afraid," Phoenix added, while giving his coin pouch a light pat. "I may have some spare coins in my house in Kenabres, but I'm afraid it is currently inaccessible, even assuming the house itself still stands."
Assuming the city itself still stands, he thought, with a dour expression.
"I don't suppose you take dead cultists as payment?" Phoenix asked hopefully, a fierce grin returning to his face.
Phoenix lets a small smirk spread over his face. "I was always under the impression that only extraplanar beings needed to worry about dispensing their true names to others. Not that I would know anything about not giving out one's real name," Phoenix says, letting out an embarrassed cough.
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Lann nods, "Perhaps she is paranoid about extra-planar beings knowing it. Honestly, she helps so I have never pressed the matter. You are all welcome to stay as long as you like, and I can guide you to the surface, if needed. Just remember to let us know when you are ready for our help above. If you will, I must be off to home to say some good byes, and prepare my own self. I will meet you at the gate in an hour so we can make arrangement for when you chose to depart."
With that, the ram-lizard-elf-man takes his leave, as he does your ever charming companion mutter something about underworld demons. . . Lann casts him a withering look, and Horgus turns bright red. Horgus clamps his mouth shut so tightly, his lips begin to turn white.
"Let us rest until Lann returns. Then those of us who are willing and able to fight the cultists shall find victory. Perhaps we will find enough of value to heal our charges as well."
Zogar's stomach growled, and he smacked it with a broad hand. "Pah! I could almost eat one of those flying squid. Where can we find food to fill our bellies?"
"Absolutely, I think we definitely need to rest and eat before we consider heading out." she says in response to Zogar.
I should try to talk to Horgus. He seems to have a problem with the tribe down here. Perhaps I can help him see that they're our allies and should be treated with respect. Torag willing I can find the words to change his opinion of them.
Reaching down she grabs her holy symbol and utters a short prayer.
After they walk out, she takes Horgus aside and to speak to him. "Horgus, you need to be more polite to our hosts. Their appearances may be strange to you but they've gone out of their way to welcome us. Please try to keep that in mind."
"I should like to study the dwarf's spellbook, and seeing him in battle gave me idea for a new, simple spell. I should only need about fifteen minutes or so to fix the spell into my book," Phoenix says, giving his trusty tome a light pat. "I'll be by the lake to the, er, east?" Phoenix points in a direction with a fierce lack of conviction, obviously unsure of whether or not it is indeed east. Offering a deep bow to the group, he saunters off in the exact opposite of the direction he previously pointed.
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After you have had time to rest up, you meet Lann at the gates to the traitors.
From the hamlet of Neathholm, the tunnel winds mostly in a southeast direction for about 2,000 feet (26 minutes of travel at a speed of 15 feet). The tunnel narrows down at this point to a 5-foot-wide passageway, the walls carved with picks and chisels. Lann warns you that you are now very close to the entrance to the traitors’ den.
Barricades made of heaped loose rocks and wooden boards bisect this cavern. Beyond the barricades, a wooden screen covers the lower half of a tunnel mouth.
The area ahead, as well as that behind, is completely devoid of light.
Phoenix walks along with the group in a slow plod, repeatedly re-casting his dancing lights spell. With every cast, he reshapes the light into something else; now several small orbs of light cast above Lann's head like a crown, now a handful of lanterns spaced ten feet apart, now an oddly glowing translucent humanoid shape that moves with a gait so unnatural that there is no risk of mistaking it for a true humanoid. Phoenix lets out a few light yawns and rubs absentmindedly at his eyes. Flitwing sits on his shoulder with her eyes closed, either asleep or bored.
As Lann halts the group to warn of their approach, Phoenix extinguishes his glowing puppet. "Perhaps you should take the lead here, Ghorza," Phoenix states in a hushed tone, despite their relative distance to the entrance. "I would rather not give away our position outright with any form of light, and I believe you are the only one in our merry band who is capable of seeing easily in darkness.
"I assume the cultists are also Forgotten Ones, or mongrelmen, or whatever the proper terminology is, yes?" Phoenix turns towards where he hopes Lann is standing in the darkness, and states the question rather than asks it. "Are you typically able to see in darkness?"
Phoenix frowns. "Hm, that may take stealth off the table if they are able to see us and we are unable to view them without the presence of light. I would say that Ghorza could scout ahead, but loud, clanking armor tends to make it difficult to move quietly."
Phoenix holds up three fingers, despite the fact that he is standing in complete darkness. "The way I see it, we have three ways of approaching the situation at hand. One, attempt to sneak in quietly despite the fact that the majority of our group is human, and unable to see in the dark. Using light would be a dead giveaway, and we would risk stumbling and creating noise in that manner. I do have a spell that can disable a single target for approximately six seconds, but that is a very short interval of time to attempt to subdue someone without their having any opportunity to raise an alarm.
"Two, we simply walk in. This would alert the cultists to our presence, but would simultaneously allow us to be alerted of theirs. Unfortunately, I would assume their numbers are greater than our own, and attempting to fight such a large number of foes in such small quarters would be dangerous. Perhaps we could attempt to try to announce our presence and treat with their leaders, but if they have truly given themselves to demons, this option may be off the table.
"Three, we attempt to draw them out with a distraction of some sort. We would risk alerting them to our presence again, but at least we would be able to set up a possible ambush. I can slightly manipulate both light and sound in an attempt to draw them either here, or to mislead them. Personally, I would find this to be the most preferable option of the three. I can send my lights ahead to scout within a range of about 100 feet, and have them continue forward. If anyone sees them and follows them rather than us, or becomes confused or distracted by them, that could buy us enough time to at least attempt to disable any threats." Phoenix pauses, and lifts an eyebrow in the dark as he waits for his companions to offer their own thoughts.
"Normally I would prefer your second option, and damn them all, but perhaps it would be a little rash at the moment," Zogar growled reluctantly. "Your third idea has great merit, Phoenix with only one name. If Ghorza or Lann will lead me, I would bloody their noses and bring them running after us. This would aid your magics in bringing them to us, and then we might crack them between us like a nut between teeth," he offered hopefully.
Turning to Lann, he asked, "If you are not used to the light, would a bright light blind you temporarily?"
"It's certainly a situation which in which we're strongly disadvantaged." Aranthis says with a frown.
"Do they normally attack on sight Lann? If they do then walking in openly is certainly not how to do it. Also, an ambush might work to draw out the outer guards, but it'd be quite dangerous to try and attract more attention than that. What would you do if they had bows Zogar? You might not make it back here if our earlier luck with projectiles is any indication."
She thinks about it for a moment more. "What do you think Ghorza?"
Finding the paladin at a loss for words, Aranthis speaks up again. "We may just have to take our chances with approaching quietly. Is there something that passes for 'Night' down here?" Thinking for a moment she realizes the concept might be foreign. "That is, a time when most of the village goes to sleep? At the least that'd buy us some time if their guards called out in alarm."