Round 101

The stormy sky above seemed to darken further as the ground beneath their feet groaned louder, the pressure building with each passing moment. The runes' pulse echoed in Silra's memory, a haunting reminder of the ancient power they had unleashed. Gravedigger Renn's terror-smell lingered, fueling whatever was buried beneath Gravehill, its hunger for fear surging like a dark tide.

Sister Hale clutched her silver holy symbol tightly as she stepped closer to Silra, her eyes fixed on the cleric's face etched with worry. "Whatever is b... breaking formation," Silra finished, her voice steady despite the fear that gripped her. The ground erupted in a maelstrom of sound and fury, and the party was left with an impossible decision: whatever was buried beneath Gravehill had judged them, not worthy of immediate destruction, but also not trustworthy enough for casual conversation.

The runes' pulse faded into an eerie silence, broken only by distant rumbling structures. The air was heavy with foreboding as Sister Hale's voice dropped to a whisper, "I feel that wrongness bleeding up through the stone itself—the pressure isn't just geological, it's Intent made manifest." Silra's gaze snapped back to her, her eyes questioning, and Sister Hale's face hardened by duty reflected a mix of fear and determination.