The volunteers unenthusiastically yell with you as you open the door to the town hall in an anticlimactic manner. Doing your best to hide your trepidation, you start to march north of town, the place where you set up your trap. The rising sun bathes the landscape in light, and the morning dew sticks to your shoes as you walk through the grass. It would be pretty if not for the possibility of an imminent, painful death looming over you.