Round 37

Jeane staggers back, her wrist aching viciously where the skeletal horror had gripped it. "Merrin—" She starts to warn, but the halfling is already moving, dagger flashing as she lunges at their assailant. The runes along the columns flare brighter, bathing the chamber in a sickly green glow that makes Merrin's silhouette jump and waver against the stone. "Wait!" Jeane shouts again, too late—Merrin's blade clashes against the creature's bone, sparks flying from the impact. The sound of the receding wall intensifies, a grinding rumble that sets Jeane's teeth on edge. Something large is moving behind it, something heavy and deliberate in its approach.*

She backs away instinctively, staff raised defensively as she scans the chamber for options. The water has risen to her knees now, cold and swift against her legs. "Merrin—" Jeane begins again, but the words die on her lips as a new threat emerges from the shadows: a towering figure in tattered armor, greatsword held at rest as it steps into view. Its eyes burn with an unnatural green fire that seems to fixate directly on Jeane. "Fuck," she breathes, voice barely audible over the roar of rushing water and the scrape of shifting stone.

She can feel her control slipping, the terror and adrenaline making her demonic nature stir beneath the surface. The cold water against her skin feels suddenly too much like the icy grip of a crypt, and she has to fight not to panic. "Merrin," Jeane manages again, louder this time. "We need to—" But the words come out garbled as another tremor shakes the tower, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the ceiling far above.