The tunnel winds and continues, branching out into many twists and turns. Every so often, Ozdimir stops to tap the walls with his iron fingernails, and listens to the earth for a moment, before continuing on.<br/><br/>"We're very close. There's a large area up ahead where the camp is set up."<br/><br/>The tunnel here is wide and straight. Flickering light can be seen in the distance.<br/><br/>"They have fires... I heard they were surface refugees." Ozzie quietly draws his sword and starts to creep closer to the opening. The tunnel crossroads is overgrown with fungus and pustulating tendril growths. Judging by the play of light, the center is dominated by some sort of pool, and a circle of hood figures in gray, lichen-covered robes are seated around it, praying in alien tongues.<br/><br/>"They aren't fighters. We could easily charge in and dominate them, then interrogate them. Though we could also try a peaceful approach... I do not think they are so misanthropic they will attack anyone on sight. What do you think?"