Cromwell stayed on his haunches, over his handiwork and looked to the sun, obviously thinking for a moment. He sighed and stood, gesturing to the bundles he had made out of spare bowstring.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000"> "Take off your cloak, wrap all of this in it, and head back,"</span>Cromwell ordered, going back into thought for a moment. They needed to know this villages thoughts, as well as where exactly they were located within the disputed border lines. But he couldn't figure that out at night, with Ashryn, and all of these provisions. He scratched his beard and simply sighed.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"I'll be back later. Tell em if I ain't back by the second night shift, send Maleki after me in the morning," </span>Cromwell said, not liking his own decision.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"And you will not follow me on this. You and the deer will only make it more difficult."</span><br/><br/>With that, Cromwell set out towards the town, not waiting on any response from Ashryn. He wouldn't stay around the town for long, but he didn't know exactly how long he would take. He'd need to see what kind of church or temple was in the area, see if there were wanted posters or a job board, and take note of the people themselves. If he wanted to pass as just a drifter, Cromwell assumed it would be harder to do. This town was smaller than the last, and the telltale flicker of torches being started and moving around gave him the impression that there was at least a militia in the town. The other option was to just slip in and slink about, seeing what he could see without using the roads of the town. But, if he was caught or seen, then it would make things difficult later.<br/><br/>The moment he was close enough to the town that he could make out the outlines of the guards, he lowered himself, using the rolling landscape and the occasional bush to mask his approach. It'd be better this way, even if it was the riskier play. The moment a point of entry was given, Cromwell slipped past a patrol and into an alleyway -or rather, a space between two buildings- and infiltrated the town. The center of town was easy enough to get to, but finding a place he could observe without being seen was a bit harder. He settled on a place opposite what he assumed was a town hall, nestled among some discarded barrels and crates enough so that the darkness of night and the muted colors of his clothes allowed him to blend in. He was deep enough in an alley so that torch light could not pass and reveal him, but that choice narrowed his field of view. Regardless, he stayed crouched there and waited.<br/><br/>People were still milling about, finishing up tasks for the day or returning from fields Cromwell assumed was on the other side of the town. Predominantly human, though he did note older elves and even a couple of half elves moving about. From his spot, he could see some board off in the distance, in front of the town hall, but no bold text told him that either there were no wanted posters, or they were simply condensed into a list. No symbols seemed to be on display here, unfortunately, so he could not tell whether or not this little town was ensnared in the Elven religion. Safer to just avoid any of the phrases that would help him if it was a 'heretical' town, even if there were some closet worshipers in town.<br/><br/>But, once night had fully settled, and the only true movement were those of the guard, Cromwell decided it was time to return to camp. Leaving was harder than entering, he came to find, as more guards had joined the patrol near the edges of the town. It took him longer than he had hoped to be able to time the best window for him to slip out through. It was getting a bit too late for his liking, even if his eyes could perceive in the moonlit darkness. Once he -almost literally-stumbled over where he had skinned the deer, Cromwell began to pick up his pace, almost jogging once he had hit the tree line. No need to give anyone any worry about his wellbeing, though he was wishing he had chose third shift instead of first.<br/><br/>Finally, Cromwell exited the foliage on the discarded wagon trail back to the mines, and, a few moments later, approached the entrance. Before he even got within ten yards of it, Cromwell stopped and whistled, one akin to a bird song and waited. Moments later, the counter call -another, albeit different, bird whistle- echoed in the night. He nodded at nothing and jogged forward, grabbing his bag and heading into the mines.