Round 3 Transcript

Silence hangs for a heartbeat as Sister Hale’s voice softens; Renn’s shoulders relax enough to lower his shovel, though his eyes remain wary. The guard’s shout snaps the silence, and a concealed spike trap in the ash‑slick road erupts, hurling a spray of hot ash toward the party. The ash lands on Silra’s boot, searing her foot and forcing her to stumble back, leaving her vulnerable to any sudden movement.

Jeane raises her hands in a gesture of placation, though her eyes remain cold. 'Gentlemen! We are but humble pilgrims seeking to restore this city's heart. There is no need for...'

The guard halts mid-shout, his gaze fixed on Jeane with sudden confusion as shimmering heat-haze appears around her hands—an illusion of harmless steam, rising from nowhere. 'We bear the magistrate's key,' she continues smoothly, 'and wish only to rebuild. Surely the city watch can spare a moment for such a worthy endeavor?'

The guard blinks, his posture easing fractionally despite the spike trap's earlier eruption.

Silra, using her rogue training, observes the guard's stance and posture—he's tensed for violence but distracted by Jeane's illusion. She notes his weapon grip is slightly off, balance compromised as he leans toward the shimmering heat-haze around Jeane's hands. The man's a novice, easy to read. While he remains fixated on the sorcerer's performance, she moves swiftly along the road's edge, putting distance between herself and the spike-trap area, her boots scuffing softly in the ash as she circles toward the church ruins' foundation.

Sister Hale tries to calm the situation with a gesture of peace, addressing the guard directly while subtly positioning herself between him and Silra. 'We mean no disrespect to your office or this city's memory—we are here on sacred business.' Her voice carries the weight of her duties as she speaks, hoping that the authority vested in her cloth might stay a hand eager for violence.