Round 3

As the last rays of sunlight faded beyond the Whispering Woods, the crumbling stone tower loomed before them, its ancient runes etched into the gate like a macabre welcome mat. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay, a palpable presence that pressed down upon them like a physical force. Varrika stood tall, her battleaxe at the ready, as she surveyed the entrance to the tower.

The group had been traveling for days, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls as they trudged through the treacherous terrain. Now, they stood before the gate, its massive wooden beams creaking ominously in the gentle breeze. Halie drew her mace closer, her silver holy symbol clutched in her other hand, as she warned softly, "Stay close." Merrin's eyes darted about, straining to pierce the gloom, while Seraphine took a deep breath, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Jeane raised her hand, arcane light spilling from her palm like molten silver, pushing back the gloom and revealing walls covered in writhing symbols that pulsed with wrongness.

Varrika stepped forward, her heavy boots echoing off the stone. "Stay close, all of you," she warned, her gravelly voice cutting through the tension. "And keep your wits about you." She tightened her grip on the mace, knuckles whitening. The group moved forward, their footsteps echoing off the walls as they disappeared into the depths of the tower, the silence broken only by the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet.