Round 2

The gate’s magic erupts into violent life beneath Jeane’s probing spell, violet runes flaring with malevolent intensity as the stone groans and shifts. The ground around Merrin’s feet buckles ominously, forcing her to stumble back as a low rumble builds beneath the tower. A chorus of unholy whispers erupts from every direction—voices like rusted iron scraping bone, filling the air with chilling malice that raises gooseflesh on exposed skin.

Halie grips her mace tighter, eyes wide with alarm as she watches Jeane’s spell twist violently. “Jeane!” Her voice cuts through the rising cacophony, sharp with concern. “What’s happening?” The violet light pulses faster now, each throb sending a fresh jolt of fear through her stomach. “Everyone stand back!” She glances at Varrika and Seraphine, seeing her own apprehension mirrored in their faces. The ground shudders again beneath Merrin’s feet, and Halie’s stomach drops. “Merrin! Get away from the gate!”

Merrin keeps her crossbow trained on the gate, heart pounding as the ground trembles violently beneath her feet and the whispers grow louder, their malevolent intent unmistakable. She mutters a sharp curse, darting a glance at Jeane. “Jeane! What’s happening with that lock?” The chorus swells to a thunderous volume now, hundreds of voices speaking in unison like nails scraping stone.

Seraphine instinctively backs away from the gate’s aura, sharp eyes fixed on the writhing runes as they flare with increasing intensity. Each pulse sends a jolt of raw power through her nerves. This is no mere lock; it's alive, aware, and hungry, she realizes with cold certainty. The whispers coil around her mind like a serpent. “Jeane!” she calls out urgently, voice tight. “Can you contain that? We may need to retreat!”

Varrika’s grip on her mace tightens as the ground bucks beneath her feet. Her eyes narrow, scanning for undead threats rising from the earth. “Damn it all to the Pit,” she growls, “this is worse than I thought.” The dwarf warrior steps forward, positioning herself between the gate and her companions. “Jeane!” she barks, voice steady but urgent.* “How long before that lock gives way?” Her gaze snaps to Merrin, still exposed near the foundation.* “Merrin! Get back here—NOW!”

Jeane’s spell twists violently as the gate’s magic fights back, her fingers spasming against the iron. The violet runes pulse faster now, their light harsh and malevolent against the deepening twilight. “Shit!” she hisses through clenched teeth, breaking focus to assess the situation. The lock’s waking up—can’t hold the connection!*