Round 7 Transcript

She moves closer to Jeane, speaking rapidly now as torchlight grows brighter around them. I can't approve sending anything down into that corrupted ground right now—not even a scout. The spiritual corruption around that church foundation is off the charts—you felt it when you tried to summon earlier, didn't you? That resistance? Whatever's sleeping under Gravehill doesn't want visitors, and it certainly doesn't want shadow magic probing its territory.

I'm not saying no intelligence—just not that way. Sister Hale's voice is firm despite the urgency pressing in from all sides. Silra's suggestion makes more tactical sense: create a diversion, draw off the city guard, then use stealth and eyes instead of corrupted magic.*

I'm not suggesting we gamble on shadow magic in that hellhole—Jeane can send her scouts into the streets where we can see them and recall them if needed. Silra crouches lower behind the tree root, crossbow ready but not yet raised as she weighs the options rapidly. That crack in the pavement is now wide enough for a man to crawl through, dirt spraying upward like someone's digging toward daylight. Whatever sleeps under Gravehill is climbing faster—we have maybe ten seconds before it surfaces completely and whatever ancient horror is down there joins our company of problems.

She scans the approaching city guard formation—military discipline, coordinated advance, spears leveled and ready. Those aren't random thugs or looters. That's organized command structure moving like they know exactly what they're doing. The cloaked figures on the flanks? Too coordinated for bandits, too well-armed for street gangs. Sister Hale's right—creating a diversion and drawing them off is our safest play tactically.*

Silra's fingers check the crossbow mechanism again—a habit when calculating odds. I can slip past their perimeter once we create that distraction. She meets Jeane's crimson-glowing eyes with cool assessment. One scout on two feet is less likely to get consumed by whatever's climbing up from below than one shadow servant in spirit-corrupted ground. We need visual intelligence first—what those cloaked figures actually are, their numbers, formation weaknesses, if Gravedigger Renn is still alive and visible.

The ground heaves again—this time violently enough that Sister Hale has to steady herself against a tree trunk. Silra notes the cleric's grip tightening on her holy symbol but also appreciates her calm under pressure. If we commit to magic experiments in that corrupted earth right now, we're gambling with resources we can't easily recall or control. Whatever's sleeping down there? It doesn't want visitors, and it certainly doesn't want shadow magic probing its territory.*

Silra crouch-walks along the tree root line, already calculating her approach route through the skeletal branches once they create the diversion. Create that opening, draw off the guard toward the left flank like Sister Hale suggested. While you're engaging them, I slip past their perimeter using stealth—get visual on what we're actually dealing with out there before committing to shadow magic in ground that's actively vomiting up monsters.

Sister Hale's response:

I'm not saying no intelligence—just not that way. Her voice is firm despite the urgency pressing in from all sides. That spiritual corruption around the church foundation is off the charts—you felt it when you tried to summon earlier, didn't you? That resistance? Whatever sleeps under Gravehill doesn't want visitors, and it certainly doesn't want shadow magic probing its territory. She moves closer to Jeane, speaking rapidly now as torchlight grows brighter around them. I'm not questioning your abilities here. But that corruption? It's strong enough to resist even your magic. Sending anything down there feels like poking a sleeping dragon with a sharp stick—and we don't need more threats surfacing right now. The ground heaves again—this time violently enough to make several skeletal tree branches snap completely off. Sister Hale's hand tightens around her holy symbol but she doesn't flinch. Look, I get needing intelligence. But there are smart ways to do this and... whatever that is. She gestures toward the widening crack in the pavement where dirt sprays outward like a grave being dug from below. ...that feels like a calculated risk too far right now. Another violent heave from below makes the ground under their feet feel like thin ice. Sister Hale steadies herself but doesn't flinch—she's faced worse than rising crypt horrors, even if this situation feels particularly unstable. Choose: calculated stealth and intelligence gathering with recallable assets? Or gambling on shadow magic in spirit-corrupted ground while surrounded and time running out? Whatever we decide, we need to move in the next few seconds or those spears will be on us.