Heeding Guide's words, you light an amber torch. Grimly you mumble part of the Oath, "We are the last line, the line of the glorious dead. We shall not break." You know there is no choice but to go on, but the warm light emanating from your torch makes your fear of the unknown bearable. You resolve to keep one burning at all times. The strong glow and slow burn will keep the area around you illuminated for hours.

Your concerns of drawing attention were correct however, and not long after a pack of tentacle-faced creatures with scything talons descends upon you.

Wiping the blood from your blades, you feel you are drawing close to your goal.