Round 3

As the storm intensified, casting a gloomy veil over Gravehill's ruins, Jeane's gaze locked onto Gravedigger Renn with unyielding intensity. Her crimson eyes seemed to bore into his very soul, as if daring him to reveal more about the dangers lurking beneath the city's streets. The wind whipped her white hair across her face, but she stood resolute, her commanding presence unwavering.

Silra watched the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and wariness, her teal eyes darting between Jeane, Sister Hale, and Gravedigger Renn. She had always been one to read people, and this situation was no exception – the informant's fear was palpable, but it seemed laced with an undercurrent of calculation. The increased guard presence, the ominous warnings... Silra's hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of her dagger, a habitual gesture that betrayed her growing unease.

Sister Hale's eyes narrowed as she listened to Gravedigger Renn's incomplete warning, her expression a reflection of her concern for the informant's safety. She stood firm, yet her gaze betrayed a flicker of doubt – Jeane's words had struck a chord, and Sister Hale couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. The storm raged on, casting eerie shadows across the ruined cityscape, as if the very darkness itself was listening to their conversation.