Round 13

Silra's teal eyes widen fractionally as she notices the ancient horror fixating its attention directly upon her—eight feet of obsidian flesh and wrongness made manifest, rising from Gravehill's grave soil with deliberate purpose. She doesn't freeze, though. Her rogue instincts kick in immediately: assess threat level, calculate distance, plan escape route while maintaining combat readiness. The ground beneath them continues buckling and shifting as more earth slides outward from the central emergence point—something massive is tearing its way to the surface with geologic force. Behind her, Sister Hale staggers as her attempted earth-slow collapses completely, soil giving way where she'd tried to stabilize it. The spell backfires spectacularly: instead of buying them time, the ground opens up beneath her feet like a grave yielding its contents. She catches herself mid-stumble but the tactical advantage is lost—city guard charging forward have gained precious seconds they would've spent fighting through magical earth.

Jeane maintains her partially-formed shadow servant beside her while watching the disaster unfold in real-time. Her crimson eyes narrow with barely contained rage as she assesses the situation: Sister Hale's spell failed catastrophically, city guard are closing fast, ancient horror emerging from beneath the streets with unnatural focus on their party, and the surrounding soil actively resisting her magic. She checks her unholy symbol instinctively—dark energy still responds but the corruption is definitely present, warping her connection to it. The tactical situation has deteriorated rapidly: outnumbered at a tree line with no cover, standing on actively collapsing ground, multiple hostile forces converging from all directions, and an unknown ancient entity now visibly surfacing beneath them. Her voluptuous frame tenses as she calculates response options—maintaining the shadow servant requires concentration but might be necessary for close combat if things go south fast.