Round 39

Halie’s eyes widen with horror as she stares into the dark abyss that has suddenly yawned open in the wall behind Merrin. The ground beneath her feet trembles violently, and a wave of heat washes over the party as the air crackles with ancient power. She clutches her holy symbol tighter, but its usual comforting presence offers no solace against this ancient evil. The magic in the air tastes wrong—like something has crawled into the very fabric of reality and is now festering within. This isn’t the clean corruption of demons or the mindless hunger of undead. This is older, deeper, more fundamental.

Varrika’s heart pounds in her chest as she watches Merrin and Varrika move forward into that darkness, their bravado barely concealing their fear. She turns to face Halie, her expression hardening. “Listen, priest,” she says, her voice low and urgent. “I know you want to help them, but charging in there blind is suicide. We need...

Jeane’s spectral form flickers in the magical storm, her crimson eyes narrowing as she takes in the scene unfolding before them. The air is thick with ancient power—an oppressive weight that presses against her skin like a physical force, making even her own considerable magical abilities feel insignificant and childish. The dark maw yawns open behind Merrin, revealing a yawning abyss that seems to stretch down into the very depths of hell itself. The sound of scuttling echoes up from within, growing louder by the second.

The air around them crackles with ancient power, and Jeane can feel it like a physical force pressing against her skin—a cold, malevolent energy that makes even her own considerable magical abilities feel... *Seraphine staggers back, clutching her tome tightly to her chest as the ground shakes. Her sharp eyes widen in terror as she stares into the dark abys...

The air around them crackles with ancient power, and a wave of heat washes over the party as the Scuttling Sounds grow louder, echoing up from within the darkness. Jeane feels a surge of cold dread wash over her. Before she can even process what’s happening, her ethereal body is already moving—darting between her companions with inhuman speed, positioning herself to shield them from whatever might emerge from that dark maw. *The air around them crackles with ancient power, and Jeane can feel it like a physical force pressing against her skin—a cold, malevolent energy that makes even her own considerable magical abilities feel...