Round 9 Transcript

Jeane moved through the ash with a predator's grace, her eyes scanning every shadow around the crumbling church. Those boot prints are deliberate—someone wants us to believe this is empty. She drew power from the unholy symbol at her throat, feeling the dark currents beneath Gravehill pulse in response.

To Silra, her voice was cold steel: If there's a trap, I'll smell it first. You focus on finding the spring mechanism. Sister Hale knelt by the prints again, her fingers tracing their edges with a cleric's caution. This isn't simple foot traffic—these were made recently and then carefully disturbed to look old. She looked up at Jeane with an expression that mixed faith and concern. What if Gravedigger wasn't entirely truthful about this place being abandoned?

Silra crouched low as she approached the church entrance, her fingers trailing along the cold stone. Those boot prints led here for a reason—either this place isn't empty like Gravedigger Renn claimed, She shot a pointed glance at Jeane. or someone wants us to think it is. The rusted iron door stood half-open, an invitation that felt suspiciously welcoming.

The storm outside was picking up intensity, wind howling through the cracks in the ancient stonework—a sound that could easily mask approaching footsteps or hidden mechanisms. Renn mentioned old city traps, didn't he? Bet he conveniently forgot to mention which ones are still functional. She drew her dagger and tested the edge with a thumb. I'm going in first—someone needs to check if these walls have teeth before we all trigger them. With a fluid motion, Silra slipped through the doorway into the church's main hall. The lantern light didn't penetrate far into the gloom, and shadows seemed to cling to every surface. Stay close behind me, sisters—I'd hate for one of you to trip over some cleverly concealed wire while I'm still learning which parts of this floor are safe. The dust here was disturbed, recent enough that it doesn't belong to centuries of neglect. Silra's eyes narrowed as she spotted faint scrapes on the stone—signs of something heavy being dragged across the floor. Interesting... either Renn's been lying about more than just the state of this place, or we've got uninvited guests doing renovations. She moved deeper into the church, her back to the wall and eyes constantly scanning for traps, ambush points, or any sign of recent activity. The air here felt thick with old magic and something else—fear. Renn smelled of it when he talked about what's beneath Gravehill. Maybe that wasn't just sweat and cheap ale. Silra paused by a toppled statue, using it as cover while she listened intently. Anyone care to explain why I'm hearing voices in this supposedly abandoned church?