Round 1

The ash-choked road outside Gravehill's ruined city stretched out before Jeane, Sister Hale, and Silra like a barren, cracked canvas. The fading light of day cast long shadows behind the crumbling stone walls of the abandoned church, its silhouette looming like a specter over the desolate landscape. A faint scent of decay and smoke clung to the air, mingling with the distant rumble of thunder in the stormy sky above.

Jeane's gaze locked onto Gravedigger Renn's nervous face for several long moments, her eyes tracing the lines of worry etched into his features. Her voice carried a note of command as she asked, "You speak of dangers, but you fail to mention specifics." The rusted key at her belt seemed to gleam in the dim light, a subtle reminder of the tools at her disposal.

Silra watched Gravedigger Renn's eyes dart between the three women and the looming church, her expression a mask of dry amusement. "Increased guard presence," she muttered, her gaze flicking to Jeane and Sister Hale. The air was thick with tension, and Silra's hand rested on the hilt of her dagger, a subtle gesture of readiness.

Sister Hale stepped forward, her hand resting on the unholy symbol at her neck. Her voice was firm, yet laced with exhaustion, as she said, "Gravedigger, you speak of dangers, yes—but we did not come here seeking a pleasant stroll through gardens." The weight of Renn's gaze upon them seemed to press down, but Sister Hale's eyes flicked toward the looming church structure, her expression resolute.