Round 5 Transcript

Sister Hale kneels, her fingers brushing the ash‑slick surface. A faint, brittle line of bone‑white spikes peeks from beneath the dust, a concealed spike trap triggered by pressure. The hidden mechanism clicks softly as her boot lifts, and the spikes retract, leaving a shallow pit that could swallow an unwary foot.

Silra moves ahead to the crumbling watchtower, her steps light and deliberate as she scans the ash-choked streets for movement or signs of life. She crouches low behind a half-collapsed wall, eyes narrowing against the driving wind. Her gaze is cold and analytical, sweeping over the ruins with the practiced eye of a predator sizing up territory.

She mutters to herself, barely audible even to her own sharp ears. "Gravehill's streets are watching. The question is whether they're empty threats or paid actors." The wind whips her cloak, revealing the glint of her dagger hilt before it settles again.

Jeane strides to the edge of the road, unholy symbol in hand. 'Sister Hale—what did you find? And Silra, any movement ahead?' She gestures for them to report as she begins casting a spell — her hands weaving arcane patterns as she concentrates on the ground beneath their feet. A faint glow emanates from the symbol in her grip, pulsing rhythmically. Her eyes remain fixed on the road surface, watching for signs of her divination. 'Tell me what's down there.'