The door's lock is heavily obscured under rust, grime, and some kind of whitish growth that seems to glow faintly. Atreus, casting an experienced eye over it, gives it a sharp blow with the pommel of his dagger. The lock crumbles like dried cow excrement underfoot. The party quickly ducks through the door into daylight, closing the door behind them on fading cries of bafflement and consternation.
The door leads into a narrow alley between ramshackle rows of dilapidated houses, built close enough together that the eaves overlap above. To the south, the gilded spire of the temple of Lauto reflects the rays of the dying sun into the alley, providing some orientation: you are on the north side of Daunton, in one of the many residential districts shabby enough to provide a home for Daunton's manual laborers, but not yet collapsed into ruins. The streets are quiet, but not silent; snatches of low-voiced conversation drift into the alley as residents return home. No one seems to have noticed you yet in the alley.
[sblock=ooc]Success on the skill challenge; the guards have lost the trail for now. What's next?
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