Round 4 Transcript

Jeane's arcane light reveals the chamber's perimeter — crumbling walls seeping shadow like mold. Those runes pulse with residual magic. She raises a hand, palm outward toward Merrin and Seraphine. Stop there. Don't let your fingers near them. The air tastes of decay and something older, deeper — wrongness that clings to the stone like ancient sap. This isn't just haunted. Her wings shift uncomfortably beneath the cloak. Something here remembers how to be awake. The thought sends a tremor through her spine.

Varrika's warning cuts through the oppressive silence — practical, grounded concern from someone who knows combat when she sees it. I appreciate the sentiment. Jeane manages a thin smile that doesn't reach her eyes. But we didn't come all this way to turn back because of a bad feeling. Halie steps forward, her holy symbol glowing faintly. Let me bless us first — might offer some protection from whatever's lingering here. The dwarf's right about one thing: messing with seals you don't understand is a good way to wake things that should stay sleeping.

Jeane considers the options — push forward despite the growing sense of wrongness, or stall here arguing about it. Fine. Bless us quickly, but keep it short and quiet. She glances at Merrin and Seraphine, still hovering near the runes. And you two back away from those markings before I have to order it. The arcane light flickers as her concentration wavers — too many unsettling sensations fighting for attention. Whatever this place was before, whatever happened here... Jeane's voice drops to a low murmur. We're walking on graves. Let's try not to disturb the occupants too much.

Varrika's eyes narrow as she takes in the oppressive darkness and ancient runes sealing the tower entrance. Her grip tightens on the mace at her side. "Dark magic clings to this place like mold on a corpse," she mutters. "Merrin, don't even think about touching those damned runes." She turns to address the others. "Stick close. We don't know what we're walking into, but I'll be damned if we let it pick us off one by one." Varrika steps forward, leading the way deeper into the tower's gloom, her heavy boots echoing off the stone floor. The air feels thick and oppressive, as if the shadows are pressing in from all sides. She keeps her mace at the ready, senses on high alert for any sign of movement or danger in the darkness ahead.

Merrin steps forward cautiously, crossbow at the ready as she scans the area for any signs of movement. She can feel the oppressive atmosphere pressing down on her, making her skin crawl. The runes etched into the stone seem to pulse with an otherworldly light, drawing her eye like a moth to a flame. "Alright, listen up," Merrin says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what the hell these things are, but they give me the heebie-jeebies. So let's just keep our hands to ourselves and get the job done, yeah?"

She takes another step forward, her eyes darting from side to side as she tries to pierce the gloom. The scent of decay is growing stronger, and she can feel a sense of unease creeping up her spine. "Varrika, Halie," she calls out softly. "Keep your eyes peeled for any signs of undead. I don't want any surprises sneaking up on us."

With that, Merrin presses forward, her crossbow at the ready and her senses on high alert. The tower looms before her, its secrets waiting to be uncovered - but she knows all too well that some truths are best left buried in the darkness.