Round 29

The darkness swallowed Silra's figure whole as she stepped forward, her hands visible but ready for immediate violence. The ground thrummed beneath her boots once more, three deliberate beats that felt like a countdown to some unknown fate. Gravedigger Renn's fear-smell mingled with the underlying musk, while bioluminescent walls pulsed faster in time with their movement. Sister Hale's eyes watered as she breathed in deeply, her cleric senses reeling from the putrid stench that clung to their skin like a shroud.

Jeane's gaze flickered to Silra, her rogue senses on high alert as she tracked every tell: the walls pulsing faster in time with their movement, the wrong musky salt smell growing stronger. It was a scent that reminded Silra of the Old City charnel houses after months of neglect, where rot and decay had consumed everything in their path. The ground felt deliberate, as if someone was counting them down into a territory that didn't welcome intruders. "What exactly are your demon senses telling you about this ground pattern?" Jeane called back over her shoulder, her voice steady despite the wrongness of the situation.