Round 65

The air was heavy with tension as Silra and Sister Hale stood poised on the pressure plates, their movements a testament to the calculated risk they'd taken by attempting to communicate with whatever lay buried beneath them. The runes on the sarcophagi pulsed ominously in sync with each vibration, feeding off Gravedigger Renn's terror-smell like a dark, ancient entity savoring the air for weakness. Sister Hale's silver holy symbol at her belt seemed a meager comfort against the growing sense of unease that threatened to overwhelm them.

As they adjusted their stance fractionally, feeling out the response through the ground beneath their feet, the rhythmic hum of the pressure plates echoed through the desolate landscape, steady and unyielding despite Gravedigger Renn's violent convulsions. The ground itself seemed to pulse in time with each vibration, counting down seconds before something awakened fully, its hunger for terror-smell surging like a dark tide. Silra's teal eyes remained fixed on the pulsing runes, her expression a mask of calm determination, even as she struggled to maintain her own equilibrium in the face of the mounting tension.