And onto the boat they go. It's a little rowboat, painted precisely the color of the nighttime sea, that is just large enough for four ordinary-sized humans. 

Serra folds up her wings very tightly, sets her sword and shield carefully within immediate reach, and rows. 

Jay lurks. Unhappily.

(Laila would care if Ashoc ate him, right? 

..... right?) 

But he would be so delicious, though. All spellglittery.

"You got a plan, wizard lady?" 

"To be honest, my plans are usually not more complicated than 'set whatever is doing evil on fire until it stops'?" admits Laila. "But I figure our best bet for shutting down a watch tower fast is to split up and have those who can fly," gesture between Serra and Jay, "drop on top and disable whatever their first-line signalling mechanism is, and those of us who can't do crowd control on the front so nobody can attempt alternative methods. I was planning to just try to enchant the whole lot of pirates to sleep, but that doesn't reliably work on groups larger than five-ish and it would be great to have a backup plan if there's more." 

"Uh, I know very little about potential signalling mechanisms." 

"That's what you've got Jay for," grins Laila. "In the event that it's more complicated than lighting a signal fire or something, anyway. You're really much more likely to just need to knock out some guys so they can't do the thing." 

"Ah. This I am quite qualified to do." 

"Crooowd control," giggles Ashoc. "What a good phrase! I can totally control crowds." 

"How?" That's not a very clear question, Laila. "I mean, are there strategic considerations I should be concerned about? Like, if you were standing right next to a guy while I tried to enchant him asleep you might also fall asleep, for example." 

"Aww, don't ruin the surprise, c'mon." Beat. "Just don't stand in front of me maybe." 

Serra has several concerns. 

"I will be sure to do that," says Laila, who has been exhaustively taught that as a wizard in combat you stand behind people who are bigger than you, with only a tiny bit of a sigh. 

Admittedly, Ashoc is only taller than her because he has horns, but still. They're pointy horns. He could probably straight up gore somebody. 

They approach the darkened beach in the cloudy, ill-lit darkness. Off to the west, the northern watch-tower looms; their first goal will be to shut it down fast enough that it cannot contact its compatriot on the south side of the island. 

Serra moves slowly and carefully as she disembarks, trying - with limited success - to stomp quietly in her heavy steel boots and her chainmail. Her tail sweeps faintly agitated arcs in the sand. It slows, slightly, as she unslings her shield and settles it firmly onto her arm, but doesn't still. 

It's been a frustrating week. She is ready to stab some evildoers. 

Ashoc is also ready for stabbing! So ready. The most ready.

(He does not actually appear to be armed at all.) 

A sprightly hop out of the boat leaves him standing lightly on the beach, leaving strange indentations in the sand as he bounces quietly and gleefully from hoof to hoof. 

Then he turns to offer Laila a hand out, because he is a gentleman, obviously. 

Laila squints sort of suspiciously at him, wondering if she looks fragile. She does not take his hand. Instead she steps carefully onto the sand, keeping a hand on the side of the boat, and then murmurs at it for a moment; it glows faintly blue, briefly, and then stills strangely at the edge of the water, affixed in place to the ground beneath the sand. 

This is kind of a weird use of a spell originally designed to hold doors shut, and Laila suspects it won't work very well. It'd probably only take a bit of a sharp tug to disperse. Still, better than nothing.

The signal tower comes into view very quickly as they head inland, that being sort of its job. It is a surprisingly sturdy-looking tall stone building, with crenellations on top and the distant, vague shadows of men moving about behind them in the dim moonlight. From here there is no visible door, as the lower part of the tower is obscured by the treeline. It ought to be unsettlingly quiet, an ominous dark night in which to enact a dramatic heist. It isn't, though; it is only a normal evening quiet. There are scurrying insects, occasional movements in the underbrush, and the periodic hooting of a small local species of burrowing owl. 

As they approach closer, a small wooden door is visible on the bottom of the tower. 

Time for: flap! 

Serra is up a tree at a surprising speed for her size, wings flared and ready to jump into the sky at Laila's signal. She gestures illustratively at the door: it'll take you longer to walk. 

Yes!!! Murder time!!!! 

Ashoc, with an incredible effort of will, does not make any delighted noises out loud. You can see him thinking them, though. 

Laila creeps very carefully and slowly up to the door, doing her level best not to step on any sticks or anything, and checks to see if it's locked. 

It is not locked, but there's a distinct change in the tenor of the murmured conversation inside that suggests the slight possibility that she may have failed to be sufficiently stealthy. 

Well, she's never claimed to be a thief. She makes a go motion with one hand, and then turns the handle, recites the first 99% of her sleep charm, and swings the door open wide and throws the rest of it into the room without pausing to see what's inside. 

There's a sharp rustle of tree branches, the heavy thudding whumpf of twelve feet of spikes and sinew catching air, the echoing clang of metal on stone - 

- and then a great deal of shouting, as four of the ten people in the room at the base of the tower slump over asleep on top of their cards and the other six scramble for weapons.