Never a sound sleeper, even when he had possessed a clear and untroubled conscience, Valetni was dragged back to the world of the waking by the sounds of the equine slaughter, just in time to hear Morr's shout of alarm. The alchemist cursed, rolling out of bed and onto the floor, ignoring the protest from his ill used body. He crawled over to his trunk, ignoring the sounds of others awakening around him as he fumbled with the key for it that hung around his neck. "No rest for the wicked, and the good don't need it." He mumbled to himself as he finally got the chest open, exposing what lay within.