Round 3

Amidst the crumbling stone tower's decaying grandeur, the air reeked of forgotten rituals and dark magic. The party stood at the entrance, a massive ancient gate sealed by writhing runes that pulsed with an otherworldly power. Seraphine, her elven eyes narrowed in concentration, studied the intricate patterns woven into the gate's surface, her fingers twitching with the urge to unravel their secrets.

Jeane stepped forward, her gaze sweeping across the runes with a practiced intensity. "These are prison bars, not locks for thieves," she murmured, her wings rustling softly beneath her cloak as she circled the gate. Halie stood watch beside her, her heavy mace at the ready, her eyes scanning the ominous entrance with a mix of trepidation and determination.

Merrin took a step back from the gate, her eyes still fixed on the writhing runes. "Halie's right, these wards aren't playing around," she said, her fingers twitching towards her lockpicks. Varrika stepped to the fore, her heavy boots echoing off the ancient stones. "Enough prattling," she growled. "If we're to crack this nut, let's do it proper-like."