Round 2 Transcript

I watch Silra work her fingers into the wall's gap like a patient spider extracting webbing. Her methodical calm is reassuring—at least someone here isn't unraveling completely at the thought of whatever lurks beneath Gravehill. "Keep it quiet, make it clean," I hiss to her back. "The last thing we need is the city watch hearing us and investigating." My fingers tighten around my sorcerer's staff, feeling its familiar weight as she widens the passage just enough for us to slip through one at a time.

I work the gap in the stone with my dagger's edge and careful pressure, each scrape echoing too loud for my liking against the storm-heavy air above Gravehill. The church wall yields bit by grudging bit, dust and old mortar clouding my vision. The unholy symbol on my belt feels heavy, like it's pulling me down into the earth instead of hanging from my hand like any other piece of gear. I shift it to a less conspicuous position with my free hand—no need for that thing announcing our intentions to whatever might be listening. Jeane's watching me work, her sorcerer's eye sharp and calculating despite the tired lines around it. She wants this done quietly, efficiently. Sister Hale is muttering prayers or wards or some cleric business near the boarded-up front entrance, casting nervous glances at the ground like she expects something to burst up from below. I widen the passage just enough for us to slip through single-file—tight but workable. "This'll do," I announce softly to no one in particular. "Though if there's still a watch schedule or patrols, we're cutting it close with that storm rolling in."

Sister Hale steps forward, unholy symbol held low against her chest like a shield that offers no physical protection but maybe some spiritual kind. I lay a ward at the gap in the wall—simple salt circle with whispered prayer, asking whatever gods might be listening to keep mundane dangers at bay. The ash from Gravehill's ruins swirls heavier now as storm winds pick up. Something moving beneath the streets? Renn's words slither through my mind again, unwelcome guest. That man was terrified of more than just the city guard. To Silra and Jeane: "Entry looks secure enough," I say, though I don't believe it completely. "But we should move quickly before whatever's below notices our presence above." My hand rests on the hilt of my mace—not for comfort, but readiness. We need this church restored as a base more than ever if we're to establish anything here. But first we must clear what might already occupy it. I step through the widened gap into the shadowed interior, lantern held high. "Stay close," I mutter to the others, even though I know staying close means sharing whatever dangers await inside these walls. The air is thick with dust and something else—old stone, decay, and a faint scent that might be nothing or might be what's been moving beneath Gravehill for who knows how long. I move forward cautiously, searching the floor for traps while keeping my eyes on the ceiling for structural instability. If there are mundane dangers here, I intend to find them before they find us.