Round 1

The air in the clearing around the crumbling tower hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay, thick with an unnatural stillness that set teeth on edge. The ancient structure loomed above them, its stones cracked and blackened like charred bone, roots twisting up the walls in a grotesque embrace. The great gate itself breathed an eerie cold violet light that pulsed with an otherworldly rhythm, casting long shadows across the surrounding underbrush where nothing living grew.

Merrin's hand instinctively went to the crossbow at her hip, fingers curling around the familiar grip as she scanned the treacherous woods beyond their small circle of torchlight. Varrika stood beside her, eyes sharp and alert, her heavy mace thumping softly against her thigh with each beat of her heart.

Jeane stepped forward, her crimson eyes narrowing as she studied the intricate runes that crawled across the ancient gate like living shadows. The violet light pulsed against her skin, cold and wrong, and she could feel the dark magic radiating from the stone in waves that made her wings twitch involuntarily. "This gate is sealed by more than rust and age," she said finally, her voice low and measured. "These runes—they're older than anything I've seen in my studies. They're not meant to keep out thieves; they're designed to test faith itself."

Halie moved closer, her silver cross necklace catching the violet light like captured moonlight. The air was wrong here—too still, too cold—and something ancient and malevolent pulsed in the stones themselves. She could feel it in her teeth, a taste of corruption that made her skin crawl. "We should not rush this gate," she said, her voice low but firm. "These aren't ordinary wards—I can feel them testing our very presence. Merrin, be careful with any locks—the magic might cling to your tools."

Merrin stepped closer to the gate, her eyes narrowing as she studied the intricate runes etched into the ancient stone. Jeane was right—these wards were no simple locks. They practically hummed with malevolent energy, and she could feel them pricking at her skin like thorns. "Alright, alright," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "Let's see what we've got here..." She drew her lockpicks from her belt, the metal feeling cold and heavy in her hands. As she reached for the gate's lock, she paused, a thought striking her. "...

Seraphine nodded slowly at Jeane's instructions, her eyes never leaving the pulsating runes on the gate. The air hummed with ancient magic, thick and heavy like honey. It pressed against her skin, testing, probing. The wards are indeed complex, she murmured, her voice almost lost in the air. They feel... sentient. She raised her staff, its crystalline tip glowing with a soft blue light that seemed to dim slightly as it neared the gate. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt the magic recoil from her, like a living thing withdrawing its tendrils.

Varrika stepped forward, her heavy mace thumping against her thigh with each step. The air here was thick and heavy, like it was trying to push you back. She could feel the weight of centuries pressing down on her shoulders, the tower looming over them all like a dark promise. She looked at Merrin working on the lock, then at Halie and Seraphine preparing their defenses. A grim smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Alright, you lot, she said, her voice a low growl. Let's see what these dark magics can do.