Round 50

Sister Hale shifted her weight carefully off the pressure plates, feeling them stabilize under her. The ground pulsed beneath her feet in a steady rhythm, like a heartbeat counting down seconds before something awakened fully. She watched Gravedigger Renn huddled against the wall, his panic-smell thick and cloying, as Silra's teal eyes scanned the glowing runes tracing the sarcophagi, her gaze cold and calculating. The plates weren't simple triggers; they were reading Intent through pressure distribution—the way they held their weight, balanced their centers of gravity, communicated non-verbally through stance alone.

Gravedigger Renn's terror-smell hung heavy in the air, a palpable thing that seemed to draw the group closer to whatever horrors lurked beneath. The air was thick with tension as Sister Hale considered her next move, weighing the risks and rewards of proceeding further down the tunnel system. Silra's eyes flicked between the runes, her expression unreadable behind her mask. The storm-dark sky above seemed to press down on them, as if the very atmosphere itself was conspiring against their success.