Round 2

The stormy darkness seemed to press in around them as Gravedigger Renn emerged from the tavern, his sunken eyes scanning the party with a mixture of fear and desperation. The wind whipped through Gravehill's ruins like skeletal fingers, sending shivers down Jeane's spine as she stepped forward, her unholy symbol gleaming cold in the moonlight. "The Burning Mother still stands," Renn whispered, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. "But beware, travelers – the church is not what it seems."

Renn's fear was palpable, a noxious odor that clung to him like the ash on the road. Jeane's eyes narrowed as she met his gaze, her crimson eyes seeming to bore into his very soul. "The dead are always restless when disturbed," she replied, her voice low and husky. The tavern window frame creaked in protest as Renn leaned out, his face pale with worry.

Silra watched the exchange with a keen eye, her teal eyes narrowing as she assessed Renn's fear. She didn't trust it – desperation had a distinct scent, one that spoke of cheap horror stories and quick profits. The rustling beneath their feet had stopped, and for a moment, the only sound was the wind whistling through Gravehill's rotten teeth. Silra's gaze flicked to Renn, her mind racing with possibilities. His information might be worth something – but at what cost?

Sister Hale stepped forward, her voice firm but gentle as she met Renn's sunken eyes. "Wait," she said, her hand rising to stay Jeane's advance. "Renn, I understand your fear – there's real danger here in Gravehill. But selling the resting places of the dead for profit... it dishonors them and invites darkness into our midst." The wind seemed to howl in agreement, its mournful sighs echoing through the desolate landscape like a funeral dirge.