Round 9 Transcript

Merrin’s slender pick slips into the groove, but the rune‑etched lock shudders as a faint blue pulse erupts from the stone. A skeletal guardian, its bones rattling, materializes at the gate’s threshold, eyes glowing with dark magic. The gate’s surface quivers, and a low, echoing chant rises from the tower’s depths.

The blue glow pulses against my skin, a frigid caress that raises goosebumps along my arms. I step back instinctively, my heart hammering in my chest. The skeletal guardian looms before us, its hollow eye sockets fixed on our group with unnerving focus.
"By the gods, what have we awakened?" I whisper, my voice a strained hiss. My mind races, cataloguing every spell I know that might serve as a counter to this dark magic. But Jeane is right - a direct assault could be disastrous.
I turn to Merrin, who still has her lockpicks poised over the keyhole. Her face is pale, but her jaw is set with grim determination.
"Merrin. If anyone can find a way around this... it's you." My gaze drops to the heavy mace at my side, then back to the guardian. Its presence feels like an insurmountable wall between us and our goal.
I reach into my robes, my fingers brushing against the cool glass of a healing potion. We'll need every advantage we can get if we're to face what lies beyond this gate. The chanting grows louder, more insistent, as if the very stones are warning us away.

I step between you all and the skeletal guardian, my crimson wings unfurling with a sound like rustling silk, shielding our group from its hungry gaze. The ancient magic crackles along my feather-edges, responding to the dark energy emanating from the tower. Stand down! This is demonic work—soul-tethered guardians bound to defend against precisely this kind of intrusion. The guardian's jaw clacks open and shut, a dry clicking that grates on my nerves. Its magic pulses in waves, each one stronger than the last, feeding on our hesitation. It grows stronger with every moment we dally. Merrin—good work on the lock, but it's triggered now. Halie, ready your light—I need to test its wards before we engage. My fingers trace complex sigils in the air as I draw upon my own dark power, a shadowy mirror of the guardian’s spectral aura. Seraphine, stay back and prepare an area-effect spell—something wide enough to catch multiple targets if more show up. Varrika, guard our flanks. We're dealing with undead animated by demonic sorcery here; silver won't help much. The air grows colder as I advance one measured step toward the guardian, my eyes locked on its glowing sockets. Listen well: we're here for what's yours no longer. Stand aside willingly, and you'll pass peacefully into whatever unlife awaits you. Resist, and I will unmake you piece by rattling piece. I raise both palms, dark energy coiling like smoke around my fingertips. My intent is clear—will yours be equally so?