Round 2

As Jeane stepped forward, her crimson wings folding neatly against her back, the leather straps of her heavy mace and crossbow creaked softly beneath her cloak. The violet light from the gate's runes danced across her pale skin, accentuating the sharp angles of her features. "This magic has teeth," she said, her voice a low purr that cut through the damp air like steel. The tower remembered its purpose, and dark spells coiled around the entrance like hungry serpents.

Halie drew her holy symbol from beneath her robes, its silver surface catching what little light filtered through the heavy canopy above. The violet glow from the runes made her skin crawl, but she stood firm. "This place reeks of corruption and old blood," she murmured, her voice low and measured. Varrika watched their flanks, her eyes scanning the unnatural trees, while Merrin crouched down to examine the shifting runes on the gate. Jeane's gaze searched for a key or weakness in the ancient magic.

Merrin's face was pale and sickly in the violet light, her eyes darting over the runes as she muttered, "Ugh, this place gives me the willies." She ran her fingers along the base of the gate, feeling the stone beneath her touch. Seraphine watched Merrin with a mixture of concern and fascination, her own heart racing in response to the eerie glow of the tower's magic. The air was thick with an ancient power that felt oppressive against her skin.

Varrika stepped forward, her heavy boots crunching on the uneven stone beneath her feet. The violet glow cast eerie shadows across her scarred face, highlighting the deep lines etched by years of battle and hard living. She gripped her mace tightly in one weathered hand, the weight of it a familiar comfort against her palm. "This ain't right," she muttered, her voice gravel-rough and laced with grim humor. The place gave her the same feeling as that time they faced off against the bone collector.