Your mundane sight, however, also picks out something terribly familiar. They bear the haunted look shared by soldiers coming off a particularly harrowing battlefield. It is the look of one whose faith and resolve has been shaken by what they have seen and felt.
Their tribe is united by the Sarenite faith brought to them by the Firehair, despite the persecution it has earned them. These survivors will need reassurance that their faith has not failed them, or some may abandon the Burning Sun tribe.
The others are the unwanted who were cast out from their old tribes. Due to age, injury, or deformity, they could not fight or work - at least not to the satisfaction of their old chiefs who saw them as leeches.
With a sigh of relief, though, you see that they are all adults, at least. A significant portion of the Burning Suns are children who were abandoned by their tribes, some as early as infancy, because of some defect or infirmity that likewise burdened them with stigma and superstition. During the tribe's continued exodus across other orc-held lands, Firehair ordered that every child and babe found left to die upon the open ground was to be rescued and adopted into the tribe.
At first, some of the Burning Suns were skeptical of spreading the tribe's scant resources even thinner with these extra mouths. During the Caligni raids, however, every member of the tribe made damn sure that not a single one of these children was taken.
Nikolai eagerly leads the others out, yearning for the harsh sun that was now so welcome compared to the claustrophobic darkness that surrounded them here. All the while, he began to calculate the cost of protecting this place and arming the tribe of orcs. What an interesting turn of events.
Even though you know longer plunge into the unknown, the return trek through the cellar and up the stairs into the basilica still feels woefully long. Perhaps it is the weight of the haunted stones around you or the emotional weight of the freed orcs around you, but each step seems like a journey unto itself.
Finally, though, you breach the hatch and return to the surface. The reunion with the afternoon sun, shining through the high arrow slits and stained glass windows, is dazzling even for those raised beneath its light.
You acquit yourselves of Valorforge and descend the trail to the base of the plateau. With the sun now eclipsed behind the might fortress, members of the Burning Sun tribe have emerged, out into the comfort of its cool shadow. When they see you return with their kin at your side, they send up many raucous cheers and more than a few quiet prayers to their burning angel, Sarenrae.
Likewise, the sight of their kin returns a spark of life to the freed orcs, who suddenly pick up their feet to rejoin their tribe. Warriors and the broken, the elderly and the young, the outcast and the abandoned - the Burning Suns find the strength and courage to hazard a celebration of this victory.
Bashuk celebrates as thoroughly as any in her tribe, hugging her fellows and slapping them on the back with a huge grin on her face the whole time. When things have settled, she discreetly reports on what happened to Chieftain Firehair--including the agreement with the caligni. As chieftan it was Firehair's right to refuse such an arrangement, of course.
"It is nice to see some joy in these forsaken lands. But I'm not sure I want to see how orcs celebrate once things get wild..." Shontar says from the back of the group as they observe the reunion.
Kain ruffles the feathers on silverwing's head as they reunite. While he doesn't approve of leaving the tunnels with the dark folk infesting them, he silently admits he is glad he does not have to fight without his friends aid.
As the tribe celebrates, Kain merely turns to gaze back to Valorfoe lost in thought.
"I'm glad to see you survived. That means the goblin owes me 10 silver," Miss Kindler says, gesturing towards Igaz. The author eases herself down from her seat upon her wagon. She picks up a walking stick, carved by one of the orcs, and uses it to steady her steps.
"Accursed joints are acting up," she grumbles. "But never mind the complaints of an old woman. Tell me about your escapades in that grand old gothic beauty up there."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Nikolai's eyes squint at the welcoming light shining through the windows, a smile spreading across his face as the warm rays eased the chill and tension from his bones. With a soft prayer to Pharasma, he continued his way out of the dark cellar and further into the light. With some last few sketches and markings of Valorforge in his journal, he follows the others out of the ruined fortress and back to the Burning Sun tribe.
A shy, somewhat unsure smile spreads across Nikolai's face as he watches the orcs embrace; who knows how many others may have been met with heartache had they chosen violence. Looking back towards Valorforge, a more determined look crossed his face. This Vidod and their "Chooser" may be a temporary nuisance or the threat of something greater. As a esteemed graduate of Lepidstadt, he would be sure to uncover the truth behind what lurked deeper in the dark and drag it, kicking and screaming, into the light if necessary. His attention turns towards the older woman moving on a crutch, his eyes opening wide as he finally took the time to recognize who they were in the presence of. His entire face flushed as he turned away, coughing and gathering his composure for a moment before turning around. He then turned around again and mumbled to himself over how to introduce himself to the famous woman. Approaching warily, he found his throat suddenly dry as he patted some of the sweat away from his brow.
"Miss Ailson Kindler, it is an honor and a priviledge to meet you. Your stories are famous and I had the incredible task of scrutinizing them to the multiple biographies that have been written of you. It is my pleasure to report that a notable number of mudrackers have seen their libelous writings fail and wither away. I was a bit...preoccupied with the initial greeting to truly appreciate your company." Nikolai still remember the rather terse greetings between them all before their venture into the Valorforge. A look of excitement spread across his face as he pulled out his journal. "I-I have it all annotated. I've created a shorthand cipher for myself and to ensure that if my notebook ever fell into dangerous hands, it would be useless for them. I would be forever blessed if you would hear what I have written so far."
As the celebrations continue (and after she's made her report) Bashuk takes a little time to speak to her rescued kin in small groups, or alone if they're more comfortable that way.
"<You showed tremendous courage, when the dark ones took you. I just want you to know that I'm proud of you and will always fight for you. And to think! In our moment of need a band of skilled and compassionate strangers came to our aid to help free you. What other orc tribe could ever expect aid from that quarter? Surely this is Her hand at work!>" She pulls them in for a hug. <"I'm very glad you're back.>"
"By the gods," Miss Kindler groans, looking to Countess Valeska, "You delved into the gothic fortress and rather than gold, jewels, or lost relics, you brought back fans?"
She turns back to look at Nikolai. At even the slightest hint of a crestfallen expression upon his face, she sighs and waves him over.
"Come, boy. Show me what you have," she bids him, ready - or perhaps resigned - to read his work.
"While we owe thanks to the Burning Angel, I find that my faith in you, child, has again been rewarded," the Firehair praises you. "Tell me of your victory, and your allies. Did their mettle live up to their words?"
Bashuk thinks carefully about her answer. "Without them I would have failed," she says at last. "They are skilled at making both war and peace, and have a good head for when either is called for. I think some of them have a lingering suspicion of us as orcs, but we knew when we started that our people's reputation would be an obstacle to overcome." She spreads her hands wide, as though to indicate the totality of the evidence. "At the end of the day, they helped us recover our kin and put their lives on the line with no hesitation that I saw. I don't think many humans would do that so readily. We should keep them close, if they will let us."
As kain watches the proceedings and celebrations from a distance he sighs to himself before ruffling silverwing's feathers.
Might be there could be hope. The griffon merely looks at Kain, with an expression that one might liken to a raised eyebrow.
Maybe.. Though something tells me its a minority.
Still.. I suppose, we don't have nearly the manpower or ability to hold this place. So allowing this tribe of orcs to secure it seems smart enough.. And at least if the dark folk get any ideas they will be the ones most likely to suffer first. Though I hope to not have to delve into those depths, I just don't think they will be gone for long.
Though despite himself, when kain saw the smiles of the tribe and their merrymaking, he smiled.
"I had an idea, and if I propose it to the easterlings, I hope that you will approve."
After speaking privately with Bashuk, Chief Mahja Firehair approaches Countess Valeska and her coterie.
"I have a proposition," the Firehair states. "We both find ourselves surrounded by foes, so we share a need for allies. Today was a shared victory, and hopefully merely the first of many."
As the first tangible sign of an alliance between your County of Canterwall and the Burning Sun orcs, she proposes establishing a trade route between Ravengro and Valorfoe. She also suggests that Gargan and his band could be persuaded to serve as escorts and guides for merchants traveling this route.
"He is useful, as long as he feels he is getting paid enough. If you can spare food, medicine, and tools, we can offer relics and treasures recovered from the fortress in trade. With a stable home for our scouts to operate from, we can also provide news from the rest of the hold."
Valeska is satisfied, deeply so.
This campaign into the Hold was starting off on a positive note.
She moves fluidly through her own people, congratulating them on a job well done. She reconfirmed the agreement with the Firehair.
Aside, with Bashuk and the Burning Sun leader she intimated her fears regarding what the Caligni were attempting to do... in it's simplest form, sow the seeds of doubt. Fracture the foundations of the captive's souls.
In the most caring of tones, she asks the returned captive receive a little extra support.
Finally, Agreed, Sister! Let us mutually thrive and let no force drive a wedge between us.
You have the support of County of Canterwall and my word on the matter. But, I will have papers drawn up so that in the event of my absence, the agreement stands.
Let our intent be written and decreed.
Moving back towards the Countess' court, Valda nears Valeska, waiting as not to interrupt. When an opening arose she speak to Valeska. "Countess dear, may I have a word. You have done well here, very well indeed. The Burning Sun tribe will be valuable allies. I'm assuming we will need an ambassador from them to keep the lines of communication open. We have gotten to know Bashuk and I trust here. What do you think of asking the Firehair to let her travel with us as a representative of her tribe?"
An excellent sentiment, Valda... I tend to agree. But, these Burning Sun are in such dire straights that I would not be the one to take from them such a boon. Demands on her time would be great.
If the idea comes from them, it would be best. I do appreciate your counsel. I say this because I am sometimes immersed and taking it all in, which leaves me seeming distant.
If anyone expected the brave scholar to show himself as one of repute and strong-will, they would've been immediately disappointed. It seemed that as soon as the danger had passed, the shy and unsure man that they had been presented himself with became apparent once more. Looking akin to a wounded puppy, he almost dejectedly stepped away before she called him back. With an eagerness that only matched his willingness to enter into combat, he hurriedly moved beside Kindler and opened up the journal that he had on hand.
"Let me describe the beautiful ruin of Valorforge to you, Mrs. Kindler. The sounds of battle that a haunt enthralled me within and the desperate battle and wicked traps the Caligni left behind." To his credit, he does do his best to try and impress Mrs. Kindler. If left undisturbed, any passerby could hear them hotly debating the existence of haunts and the emotional manifestation behind them. Nikolai would seem equally irritated by her position while also oddly having the time of his life.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Bashuk fidgets a bit at Chief Firehair's proposal, wanting to speak but knowing better than to contradict her leader in front of (relative) strangers. Shortly after the meeting, however, she pulls Mahja aside.
"My chieftain, I think we should keep the Baroness and her entourage as close as we may. Gargan is useful enough, as you say, but he's a mercenary through and through and not a member of the tribe. I believe we should have someone in her court to represent our interests directly, and to be your eyes and ears in the humans' territories. I would volunteer for such a task, with your permission. I have fought beside them already so I wouldn't be starting from scratch to earn their trust."
The corner of Chief Firehair's mouth turns up in a wry grin.
"Not just your zeal but your talent makes you the perfect person for the job, hence why I was not going to ask you," the Firehair says to Bashuk. "Any truce with the dark folk is tenuous, so I would prefer to have you by my side to protect our people."
She sighs.
"Go, with my blessing. We have searched for allies for so long. We need to strengthen this bond with the easterlings. Should the dark folk turn against us again, we may yet need to abandon Valorfoe. If that should happen, we will need somewhere safe as a fallback."
The chieftain's eyes turn towards Valeska, clearly suggesting their town of Ravengro as a potential future refuge - assuming you and the rest of the party can convince the fearful locals to be accepting of potential orc neighbors.
"Ah, where to next, m'lady?" Gargan asks Countess Valeska, overly loudly. He raises his arms in an expansive, eager gesture. "Now that you have found the Burning Suns, do you wish to return home? Have you had your fill of the Hold? Or do you still wish to venture further, towards Urgir, eh?"
Ailson Kindler excuses herself from her repartee with Nikolai. The old author eases herself down from her cart and interrupts the orcish mercenary.
"And if we did press on, upon which route would you steer us? Towards the Burning Child, perhaps?" Kindler asks. Her tone is inscrutable, though it seems to be a warning, a challenge, and a request in equal measures.
Nikolai looks a bit disappointed when the woman puts a pause to their literary debate but quickly joins her alongside the Countess. He looks over their allies; a series of outsiders that are as unique as the next one, a paladin of Andoletta, a fiery half-orc with unique powers, and himself.
"I am in your service, Countess. I have some reservations about approaching Urgir but if we have business there then I shall accompany you. The mystery of the Burning Child is intriguing...but there have been many deaths trying to learn more about it as well."
Originally a Sky Citadel known as Koldukar, Urgir was built by the dwarves upon their emergence on the surface of the world. Urgir was conquered by orcs under the rule of the great warlord Belkzen in the Battle of Nine Stones. He renamed the city Urgir, meaning "first home" in his native tongue. Over the years, the masterful stone and metalwork of the cities dwarven builders has been defiled by its current residents, but even despite this defacing, Urgir remains a testament to its creators' talents and vision.
The current ruler is Grask Uldeth, chief of the Empty Hand tribe, who has implemented a new, more accepting way of life. Envious of the human cities in neighboring and distant nations, the city's chief has opened Urgir up to foreign traders and travelers in the hopes of increasing the settlement's status in Golarion as a whole. His reforms, whilst very controversial among his people, have been successful thus far.
Over the past several decades, Urgir has suffered earthquakes of increasing strength and frequency. Of those familiar with this geologic phenomenon, there has been much debate about whether this is a natural occurrence and what might be the cause.
...
The "Burning Child" refers to a haunted battlefield first documented in the autumn of 4237 AR when Lastwall, retreating from the fall of the Sunwall, regrouped and made a counterattack when they saw a screaming human child wreathed in flames in the midst of the orc lines. After the human forces routed the orcs, they could find no sign of the strange child, save for the large ring of scorched grass where he had been standing - along with the remains of many orc soldiers that were burned beyond recognition.
Since that first appearance, the legend of the Burning Child has spread among the people of Lastwall and Ustalav. Based upon the accounts you have heard, you can surmise that it is the undead remnants of a child, likely with untapped sorcerous potential, who suffered and died as a result of their powers. If this is true, this would be the only documented instance of such an undead manifestation in history.
Listening to Gargan, So quickly The Wheel turns, my friend. First we must speak with Igaz. Have we truly found his Dwarven shaft, or must we continue onward?
Igaz!
Gargan, thank you. The Countess passes some gold and silver. For you and your men... share it and be generous. There is more where it came from... I have a job for you, nay... a post.
Nikolai, thank you... you are welcome to stay with me, with us... as long as you wish. You have seen the intrigues and dangers we may be called upon to face together. She pauses considering her words.
It is not an easy road, but it must be traveled if we are help people and land flourish and thrive. There has been much neglect, but we are not seeking to attribute blame. That is the way of folly.
We are the servants that seek to lead our brethren into a brighter future.
The goblin shuffles forth when summoned, emerging from his hiding spot beneath Miss Kindler's cart and scuttling like a crab before remembering to stand upright.
Igaz claps his hands together and hops excitedly, pleased simply to have someone believe his story.
"Now we go to mountains?" he asks, pointing towards the distant, gray peaks of the Tusk Mountains just to the north of Valorfoe. "That where I found shaft and heard dwarf voices!"
Whilst the "Burning Child" lies to the south along one of the routes to Urgir, the purported "dwarven hideout" that Igaz discovered is to the north.
Meanwhile, when Countess Valeska delivers the payment to Gargan and his band, their reactions are undisguised. In Orcish, Gargan delivers several iterations of "I told you so" to his warriors, who are themselves openly amazed by how well this job has paid off, especially since it required no bloodshed on their part.
The stretch of the Tusk Mountains that serve as a border between Belkzen and Ustalav is home to frost giants, ogres, kobolds, goblins, a few dragons, and - of course - orcs. There are no known dwarf holds in the Tusk Mountains, at least not any still in dwarven hands. It is assumed that many ruins or abandoned holds may survive, left behind when the orcs claimed the Hold of Belkzen and drove out the dwarves of Koldukar.
"Again, your prattle about dwarf holes and lost treasure?" Gargan berates Igaz. "If there was such a place, this or that tribe would have claimed it and lost it already.
"We are quite terrible at keeping secrets, aren't we?" he asks in an almost quiet aside to one of his warriors. He raises his voice again and looks on the verge of whacking the goblin across the face with his leather cap.
"Don't speak such nonsense to the lovely countess, you green dimwit! You'll cost us all our newfound jobs!"
Despite Gargan's vehement shouts and gesticulations, you notice Chief Firehair narrow her brow at the mention of nearby dwarves.
In the past, when Chief Firehair sent scouts in search of allies, she mentioned the possibility of finding hidden pockets of dwarven holdouts, or at least a long forgotten stronghold as a safe haven for your people. Nevertheless, these hopes were always for naught.
The renewed mention of dwarves plainly sparks her interest.
Gargan, each member of our band shall treat each other member and themselves with respect. There was no prattle, as Igaz was responding to a direct question from me. Her look is stern, but softens. Each leg of this journey is an opportunity to earn, and more importantly learn.
Her eyes sweep all those present, including the wizened author.
Nikolai, humor me please. But, if we believe Igaz's account is accurate... She hands the goblin the tastiest morsel from her pack, a dense pastry. ...whether these Dwarves are seen or heard, who would they most likely be among the Koldukar?
Imagine their sheer tenacity. Her voice is whimsical and full of wonder.
Igaz eagerly accepts the food offered by the Countess. He scuttles back beneath the shade of Kindler's cart to enjoy.
The spectacle causes Gargan to sigh and shake his head ruefully.
She looks towards Gargan, "Might it be that instead of hearing living voices that Igaz heard the dead. Sadly, they are not uncommon."
"Ah, that is quite a possibility, sad to say," Gargan replies to Valda. "Both of our lands host plenty of haunted places where nothing stays dead. Bones, bodies, and ghosts? All too common!"
Bashuk grunts in annoyance when Gargan tries to shout Igaz down. "Dwarves are good at hiding their homes when they want to be. My tribe isn't aware of any dwarf-holds around here, but that doesn't mean there's none there. We should be careful, but it's worth a look--and if Igaz is lying or leading us into some sort of trap we can drop him down a deep hole." Bashuk shrugs with exaggerated casualness. "Or I'll burn him."
Kain keeps silent for most of the time, he does speak up momentarily.
While it would be dangerous to venture further still, I will go with whatever you decide, Baroness. Though I will admit, I prefer open fields to tight caverns. That said, if the caves are of dwarf make, I'm sure they are grandiose enough to accommodate Silverwing.
The story goes that a distant descendant of Taargick, First High King of the Dwarves, will one day lead the dwarves on a new mass migration similar to the fabled Quest for Sky and usher in a second golden age for their people.
The daughter of Durlak II, the last king of the Sky Citadel of Koldukar, was the last known member of Taargick's bloodline. Her fate after Koldukar fell to the orcs and became the city of Urgir is unknown, but the dwarves you fought alongside held out hope that her descendants may yet live, perhaps along the Tusk Mountains.
"Shall we spend the night here and head out in the morning?"
"This may come as a surprise, my armored galon, but I agree with you," Gargan replies to Valda. "Other local guides might urge you to travel by night simply because they can see better. However, they fail to mention that so many other hunters prowl the night for the same reason. It is safer for you to travel by day, when such dangers sleep.
"I don't mind getting a little sun if it means my client's safety. That's the Gargan difference!" he declares, raising his finger sharply.
As valda divulges what she knows, Kain grunts at the last part.
It may be possible... He pauses momentarily.
Well, I've heard stories, old dwarf tales, that the descendants of Taargick's line may yet hide in secured holds. Perhaps even in the Tusk mountains. Though, I wonder if these tales are more of a hope against all, as there is no real evidence to suggest they are more. Taargick being the first high king of the dwarves. If memory serves. He then shrugs
Of course, these are mostly old dwarven soldier's tales. Either way... it seems like something may be out there... Though we must prepare, as undead may call those places home now.
Conferring with those speaking up, Valda and Kain...
Well then, I would think that Igaz has neither heard the tales nor studies the histories. Which means he most probably did witness something. There is no reason for him to make up a story and cast Dwarves as the main characters... neh?
Thank you both. I long to go home, but this seems important. She is quiet for a bit, thinking.
I only hope that they have not been driven mad in their isolation.
"There are very few items in my life's 'to-do list' that yet remain to be crossed out," Ailson Kindler states, "and mountain climbing is definitively not among them. Even if I was of a mind to reconsider, these old legs would object.
"I will remain here and speak with the Burning Suns. They, rather than some potentially undead dwarves, are the subject of my next book, after all. I sincerely doubt that you will sorely miss a cynical, cantankerous old woman on the next leg of your adventure."
Gargan sighs.
"Ah, yes, yes, such a terrible loss for our expedition," the orc guide disingenuously laments. "The old woman is correct, though. I hope you are up for a bit of mountain climbing. Even the foothills of the Tusk Mountains have a bite to them."
Whilst their truce with the Caligni of Olvoro remains tenuous, the Burning Sun orcs waste no time in reclaiming Valorfoe. As afternoon wears into evening, they remove themselves and their meager belongings from the caverns they have hitherto sought refuge in, ascend the plateau, and move back into the surface levels of the fortress. For now, they keep away from the basilica, which has known connections with the Caligni-haunted cellar and tunnels within the plateau.
...
In the morning, once farewells are exchanged, the party departs Valorfoe and treks north across the Gap of Valballus towards the Tusk Mountains. The terrain of the badlands becomes even more treacherous, and you only make safe and expedient progress thanks to the guidance of Gargan and - perhaps surprisingly - Igaz. The goblin leads you along the oft-meandering path that he claims initially brought him to the "dwarf hole."
Why? Can't bear to learn a little culture Gargan? Kain quips at hearing Gargan's remark towards Kindler.
At Valda's question, Kain grunts
For the horses? That depends. If there are trails, they should be fine. If we are to be scaling a cliff face. Well. He shrugs as if the answer is obvious. For Silverwing though? No. It is his natural climate afterall. Hmmm. Which means we may come across another one. That would be... interesting. Though, for our sake hopefully not one nesting.
Kain will alternate riding on Valere and letting him fly above for a griffon's eye view as they travel.
"Well, it all depends on how far into the mountains the little green runt intends to lead us," Gargan replies. "I know paths strong enough to hold a Bull of Zagresh, but I also know where even the footpaths become treacherous. So, why don't we ask our guide?"
When Gargan turns eyes towards Igaz, the goblin momentarily shrinks back. However, he is soon jumping in excitement.
"Yeah! Big for horses! Can ride!" Igaz insists, even though it's plain to see that he is trying to hide how terrified he is of the party's steeds.
Bashuk helps her kin with the move into Valorfoe, walking several of the halls and battlements to make sure they're clear before anyone lets the children and animals loose. She says her goodbyes and is ready the following morning, packed and bouncing impatiently on the balls of her feet.
"Horses, fah. They're awfully skittish and fragile for the Holds, don't you think? General Kain has the right idea--griffons will put some healthy respect in any orc. Warcats, bulls, worgs, and axebeaks are more common mounts among the tribes--you want a mount that's mean and tough so it survives the trip!"
Sasha can climb and help though who can't. It's then Valeska realizes Sasha is sniffing at Igaz, from behind. The Goblin a bit too preoccupied by the equines.
She chuckles.
We shall turn whatever it is we discover to our favor. Perhaps a merchant's optimism, but true enough.
The sooner we go, the sooner we may return. Igaz, lead on! Sasha, protect Igaz. Hefting her own pack... Valeska is ready for the next leg of the journey.
Kain gives a glance towards Bashuk and responds.
Do not dismiss the strength of a properly trained warhorse. Especially when part of an ordered charge. They are strong, and have an endurance beyond many animals. Though your point is a valid one in that there are creatures better suited for... general melee. The other positive for a horse is, they are loyal and easy to care for. Even the opinionated ones.
As he says the last bit he looks down to Silverwing, clearly stating that the griffon was, or is, quite a handful. For his part, Silverwing merely rolls his shoulders and flicks a wing.
Igaz sets your pace, though his steps are hastened with the horses at his back. He guides you along the rough uplands leading away, north from Valorfoe.
For a while, the terrain is rough and broken, yet still easily traversable by your steeds. However, foothills soon crest into more jagged ground, and the available paths become more limited as upthrusts of sharp rocks rise like natural fortifications.
"Yes, yes! I smell the water! We is close!" Igaz shouts, adding more bounce to his step as he rounds a rocky corner.
Following your guide, you find yourself in a mountain valley populated by hardy trees and bisected by a shallow, odoriferous stream.
"Yes, yes! Here! Here! Shiny rocks! I remember! This right way!"
Igaz hops up and down, pointing to an exposed vein of crystal within the rocks overlooking the smelly water.
Bashuk let's out a low, impressed whistle. "Huh, dwarves sure know how to pick a spot!" Too busy admiring the scenery, she neglects to keep a sharp eye out for danger.