Round 72

As Sister Hale's gaze locked onto Gravedigger Renn, her eyes widened in alarm as he convulsed violently against the wall, his terror-smell intensifying like a noxious cloud that thickened tactical space like spoiled wine spilled across stone floors. The ground trembled once more, then settled into a steady, deliberate rhythm: THRUM-THRUM-THUD, each vibration measuring their Intent with precision. Silra watched her partner's movements, adjusting her stance fractionally as she prepared to cross another plate carefully. Sister Hale felt out the vibrations through her soles, her face set in a determined expression as she crossed plates with perfect timing across from Silra.

The runes on the sarcophagi pulsed ominously in sync with each vibration, feeding greedily on Gravedigger Renn's panic like something ancient tasting weakness in the air itself. As they worked, Sister Hale's practical habit seemed out of place amidst the eerie glow of the runes, yet she moved with a quiet confidence born of duty and experience. Silra watched her partner's movements, her eyes darting between the plates and Gravedigger Renn's convulsed form, as the cleric expertly adjusted their formation to communicate Intent amidst the maelstrom of sound and fury.