Round 2

The air crackles with building power as they press deeper into the tower's belly. The ancient stone groans beneath their feet, each step echoing in the narrow passage. Jeane takes point, her crimson eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. "Stay close," she hisses over her shoulder, more command than suggestion.

The walls here are smoother, the workmanship more refined than in the outer passages. Ahead, the corridor opens into what looks like a small chamber, its doorway framed by intricate carvings that seem to writhe in the flickering torchlight.

I watch in awe as Jeane's magical energy tears through the ancient lock, Halie thinks, her blue-grey eyes wide as the force of it sends a shower of debris outward. The door swings open with a groan that sounds almost human. My hand instinctively goes to my holy symbol as I move forward cautiously, the silver metal cold against my fingertips. "Wait," she calls out, her voice soft but firm. "Let me go first." The cleric's eyes are fixed on the gaping doorway, searching for any hint of movement within the shadows.

Merrin | Rogue
I step into the doorway behind Halie, my crossbow at the ready and my eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. "Careful now," I murmur, more to myself than to the others. "These old servant's passages are often full of nasty surprises." As we move deeper into the tower, the air grows heavy with a sense of wrongness. The walls seem to press in around us, and I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up as if in warning. "I don't like this," I mutter under my breath.

Seraphine | Wizard
A chill slithers down my spine as we move deeper into the tower's servant quarters, the air growing thick with an unseen presence. My staff feels warm in my grip, thrumming with a low vibration that seems to be responding to the malevolent energy permeating these ancient halls. "The magic here is... wrong," I whisper, my voice so faint it is almost lost in the oppressive silence. I watch as Merrin and Jeane press forward, their weapons at the ready. Halie's holy symbol glows brighter in the darkness, a beacon of faith against the encroaching shadows.

Varrika | Fighter
I move closer to Seraphine, peering at the shimmering barrier she's conjured. "Can you hold that ward for a few minutes?" I ask, my gravel-edged voice low and urgent. "I'll see if I can find the trigger point." My eyes scan the walls, searching for any sign of the pulsing pattern Seraphine described. The air crackles with building power, making the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. "Keep your weapons ready," I warn the others, my hand tightening on the haft of my mace. "If this trap

The ancient stone groans beneath their feet as the party presses deeper into the tower's belly. The air grows colder, thick with the scent of decay and something else—something old and wrong that makes their skin crawl. Each step echoes in the narrow passage, a rhythmic percussion against the oppressive silence.

Jeane takes point, her crimson eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. Stay close, she hisses over her shoulder, more command than suggestion. The walls here are smoother, the workmanship more refined than in the outer passages. Ahead, the corridor opens into what looks like a small chamber, its doorway framed by intricate carvings that seem to writhe in the flickering torchlight.

The air crackles with building power, making the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. "Keep your weapons ready," she warns the others, her hand tightening on the haft of her mace. "If this trap.