Becky investigates the hut

Becky crept closer, trusting in her careful movements, slight frame, and the shadows surrounding her to keep her hidden and safe. The pervasive darkness seemed to grow more concentrated as she neared the hut. The light of the torches did not grow dimmer-- it was as though it was being swallowed up in a shadowy fog.

She reached the hut and peered in through a window. As she had suspected, the Gnoll shaman was inside. He didn't seem to be aware of her presence, in fact, it appeared as though he was in some sort of meditative state, with his legs crossed in front of him and his arms at his sides. Becky didn't know enough about Gnoll culture to assume what he was doing, but he seemed to be focused at the very least. Becky was almost certain she could get all the way up to him without him noticing.

The hut was filled with similar wooden carvings to those that filled the cave that it occupied, and was almost humming with a strange, smokey arcane energy. Becky wasn't that magically attuned, but even she could feel the power in this chamber. The shaman himself was covered in tribal paint, swirling patterns of red paint which almost seemed to have a sexual nature to them, but Becky couldn't tell exactly why. Like the guards, the Shaman was also naked from the waist down, though his cock was flaccid in its sheath.

With the shaman deep in meditation or prayer (or perhaps asleep?), Becky had a rare opportunity to grant her friends an advantage by taking out the shaman before the fighting began, a shift which could wind up making all the difference. Then again, she didn't know what kind of power this Gnoll had.