Round 5

As Jeane Cromwell stepped forward, her cloak swirling with purpose, Silra's gaze snapped towards Gravedigger Renn, her movements fluid and calculated. The elf rogue woman crouched down beside him, her eyes locked on his as she spoke in a measured tone. "Which part of your story is shit?" she asked, her words laced with a quiet intensity that brooked no hesitation. Her hand rested on the hilt of her dagger, its familiar weight a comfort in the midst of turmoil. Jeane's eyes narrowed, her gaze flicking to Gravedigger Renn before returning to Silra, the rusted key at her belt a tangible reminder of their mission.

Silra's words hung in the air, a challenge to Gravedigger Renn's fear and Jeane's calculation. The storm raged above, its power coursing through Jeane like fuel for her ambitions, but Silra's concern for the informant's well-being was evident in every line of her face. As she waited for his response, her eyes never left his, a silent promise to protect him from unseen threats lurking beneath the streets.