Round 3

As Sister Hale finishes her suggestion, the scuttling beneath the road surges forward with renewed vigor. She waits for a moment, then nods toward Silra's position, her steady eyes fixed on the elf rogue. "I'll start rigging the rope," she whispers, her fingers moving swiftly as she loops one end through the crack in the wall. The other end trails along the ground in front of her, ready to catch whatever steps into her space. "Jeane, go ahead with your light spell. I'll try to keep this section stable." Hale's gaze never wavers from the dark shapes scuttling beneath the road.

Jeane allows her spell to form fully before releasing it - a controlled burst of illumination that doesn't explode outward but rather pulses once, briefly flooding the immediate area with cold blue-white light. The gate is old iron, yes, rusted and spiked as described, but it's also maintained - recently oiled hinges, fresh timber reinforcing the posts, and most disturbingly, the dark shapes scuttling beneath the road seem to be moving in a coordinated manner. The scratching intensifies as three of these shapes move toward them along the wall's base.

Silra crouches low against the wall as Jeane's illumination spell pulses out, her teal eyes tracking every movement in that first burst of light before it settles into a hovering sphere. "Quarantine," she repeats softly to herself, testing the word like a tool for understanding what's happening here. The air is heavy with tension as the party stands frozen, their senses on high alert. Outside, the scratching grows louder, and the darkness seems to be closing in.

As Silra rises from her crouch, Sister Hale follows through the collapsed wall section into Gravehill's shadows, her unholy symbol pulsing warm against her palm. The air inside is thick with the scent of old incense mixed with damp stone, and something else she can't quite name. This feels wronger than just 'abandoned' now that they're actually inside. Whatever Gravedigger Renn warned them about... it's awake and aware of their presence here. The sounds from outside fade as they push further into the ruined street, the only sound the creaking of old wooden signs and the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet.