The three arguing tieflings.

Shadowheart approaches the three tielfings.

One is wearing red and blue robes, with intricate silver plating, and is referred to as ‘Rolan’

The other is wearing a brownish long-sleeve with a red corset over top, ‘Lia’.

And the other is wearing a red and black long-sleeve, with a leather vest on top, ‘Cal’.

“Hells, we can’t just leave. They’re kin.”

“I will not gamble our lives, our futures for people who are as good as dead, we must leave for Baldur’s Gate at once.”

“Can we all just take a moment, please?”

Shadowheart scoffs loudly, all of their head turning towards her, confused and irritated.

“Weaklings, all of you, whether you stay or leave, you’ll all die anyway.”