Round 123

As the party emerged from the ruined city into the storm-dark market district outside Gravehill, the ground beneath them gave one final violent shudder before settling into a tense silence. The darkness of the night pressed in on them like a physical force, their lantern casting flickering shadows across deserted streets. Gravedigger Renn's terror-smell still clung to him, and he stumbled slightly as if reeling from the aftermath of his ordeal. Sister Hale stood resolute beside the pulsating runes, her eyes fixed intently on the glowing points below.

The air was heavy with tension as they waited for a decision, the elf rogue Silra scanning the streets for side alleys or abandoned buildings while keeping formation tight. Her gaze darted between the cellar doorway and Sister Hale, lingering on the cleric's determined expression before snapping back to the frightened informant. "We need to move off these main avenues," she said firmly, her voice barely audible over the sound of rain starting to fall. "Gravedigger Renn's terror-smell still coats everything – thick enough that even in this downpour his panic might broadcast our position for blocks."