Round 4 Transcript

I'm with Sister Hale on this—trusting our eyes more than Renn's mouth is the only smart play right now. The ash here is thick enough to show fresh boot prints if we look close. The road left veers away from Gravehill proper, that's clear. Less direct path into the old city core, but probably safer in terms of… official scrutiny? I don't care about 'official,' I mean less chance some torch-wielding fool spots us sneaking around at night. Jeane looks ready to go either way—her kind always did prefer spectacle over subtlety. She's got that hungry look like she's already picturing fireworks and grand entrances instead of quiet lock-picking and careful footwork. I'll check the ash on this left path. If there are guard patrols, we need to know their schedule, not just their existence. And if Renn was lying about something… well, lies leave tracks too, usually bigger ones than footprints in the dirt. The rogue crouches, tracing finger along the ground where the road bends toward Gravehill's ruins. See this? Multiple sets of boots, all heading deeper into the city. Some older prints, but a fresh set—maybe hours old, definitely today. Guards or something else. She stands, dusting her hands off. We follow these tracks, we find out what patrols Gravehill at night. Then we decide if we want to meet them head-on or find a way around. Either way, we're not blind stumbling into whatever Renn was too scared to name properly.

I will not let this fear divide us before we've even started. Sister Hale moved between Silra and Jeane, her unholy symbol catching a flash of lightning from overhead. The lantern light flickered across their faces—Jeane's sorcerous focus already shifting towards the abandoned church; Silra calculating angles and escape routes with elven precision. "Listen," she said, her voice low but firm, "Renn may be terrified, but he gave us real information. City guard patrols." She pointed to the ash-choked ground at their feet, then swept her arm along both forking roads. "If we split up now, we lose our advantage—the party. We stick together, we watch each other's backs, and we figure out which path has less… activity."

Her eyes narrowed on the skeletal church looming leftward. "And I'm not leading us into that particular deathtrap until we have to. The road right leads deeper into Gravehill—that's riskier, yes, but it's the more direct route towards the cathedral district where our restoration is supposed to happen." She drew a deep breath, her hand resting on the hilt of the sword she barely knew how to use properly. "This is what faith looks like: not blind optimism, but measured action. We take the right road together, we move fast under cover of this storm, and if we spot guard movement or—" she swallowed hard "—whatever Renn claims crawls beneath the streets, we adapt." Her gaze met theirs in turn. "Who's with me on taking the direct route?"