Round 9 Transcript

The skeletal guardian's empty eye sockets seem to bore into Jeane as it takes another step forward, its bony hand extended towards her. The air around it crackles with energy, and the ground shudders beneath its feet, causing the heavy stone panel behind it to creak ominously. As the violet glow of the gate's magic fades, a faint whisper of shadowy wings beating against the darkness echoes from the corridor ahead. The sound of scraping metal grows louder, and the panel behind the guardian begins to slide open, revealing a dimly lit corridor beyond.

I watch, my heart hammering against my ribs, as Jeane dismisses her shadow wings and begins her slow, deliberate circle around the skeletal guardian. The creature’s empty eye sockets seem to follow her every movement, an unsettling intelligence behind their lifeless gaze. I take a half-step back, instinctively wanting more distance between myself and the crackling energy that surrounds it.
My fingers twitch at my sides, itching for the familiar weight of my staff, but I resist the urge. This is Jeane’s element, her domain of arcane power. She is our sorcerer, after all—a role I respect even if I don’t fully comprehend its intricacies.
"My lady Halie," I say, turning to face the cleric, my tone measured and calm despite the frantic beat of my heart. "Your concern is not misplaced. The power here... it feels old. Ancient. Corrupted."
I turn my attention back to Jeane, who has stopped her circling and now stands directly before the guardian, seemingly studying its structure with an almost clinical detachment. A wave of cold washes over me as a shadow passes across the sun.
"It seems your initial assessment was correct," I continue, my voice dropping to a near whisper. "The wards are not merely a deterrent. They are a prison. And now..."
I gesture towards the ominous sound of the sliding panel, a low rumble that seems to vibrate through the very foundations of the tower. "Now they have been awakened."

Varrika steps between Jeane and the skeletal guardian, her heavy mace gripped tightly in her scarred hands. "Enough of this foolery," she growls. "Sorceress, get behind me. Halie, Merrin, ready yourselves." She levels her gaze at the undead sentinel, unflinching before its crackling aura and outstretched hand. "You want a piece of us, bone-breaker? Come and get it."

With a deep breath, Varrika plants her feet and settles into a solid fighting stance, ready to meet the guardian head-on should it advance further. She knows they're at a disadvantage here, but she'd be damned if she let this undead freak lay a finger on any of her companions. It's what a leader does. "Seraphine, see if that map shows us a path around this wight. We might need to find another way in." Her voice is grim but steady, the voice of command. She keeps her eyes on the guardian, watching for any sign of attack. "Merrin, if you're gonna pick that lock, do it quick. I've a feeling our welcome's about to wear thin."