Round 1

As Jeane's contemptuous gaze followed Gravedigger Renn into the storm-shrouded streets, Silra watched with a mixture of amusement and suspicion. The elf rogue woman pulled up her hood to shield her eyes from the ashfall, her teal gaze flicking between Jeane and Sister Hale. "His kind always runs first—it's their primary skill," she murmured dryly, her tone a subtle rebuke.

Sister Hale's expression remained stern, her silver holy symbol glinting in the lantern's light. "A man who fears his own city's shadow is no man at all," she declared firmly, her voice unwavering despite the tempest raging around them. Jeane spat beside her, a gesture that spoke volumes about her feelings towards Gravedigger's cowardice.

The storm howled on, ash stinging their skin through their clothes, as Silra held up the lantern to illuminate Sister Hale's face in the shadows. "He meant we're not alone," she said, her voice measured despite the turmoil around them. The air seemed heavy with unspoken questions, and Jeane's eyes narrowed, her mind already racing with possibilities about the unknown threat lurking beneath Gravehill's streets.