Round 4

Jeane circled the gate slowly, her dark wings tucked close, tracing the ancient runes with one clawed finger while keeping enough distance to avoid accidental contact. The symbols were older than she was by far—perhaps even predating some of the Elder Gods they served. The wards here felt... wrong. Not just dark magic, but something fundamentally alien to her kind. The air around them tasted corrupted, like stale incense mixed with decaying flesh.

Merrin was working on the lock mechanism now, and Jeane watched her carefully. The halfling's hands moved with practiced precision, but even from a distance, she could see the tension in Merrin's shoulders, the way her breath came in short bursts. Whatever magic had animated that lock, it clearly wasn't meant for simple thieves or curious adventurers.

Halie approached the gate carefully, her silver holy symbol held close. The magic here felt sick, wrong—it clung to every stone like rot. Merrin, whatever you find on that lock, don't touch it without telling us all first. And Varrika—no spellcasting experiments unless absolutely necessary. We don't know what these wards might do if tampered with. I light a fresh torch and examine the runes myself. They're beyond anything I've seen in theology school—the language predates even the common tongue.

Seraphine traced the complex patterns on the gate with her fingertips, feeling the faint hum of ancient power beneath them. Her eyes narrowed as she followed the lines, trying to decipher the arcane language etched into the stone. The air around the gate seemed to thicken, charged with a dark energy that made her skin prickle.

Varrika peered at the runes etched into the ancient gate, her brow furrowed in concentration. The symbols were unlike anything she'd seen before, older even than the common tongue. A shiver ran down her spine as she imagined what dark magics might be woven into those arcane patterns. Jeane, what do you make of those wards? Any way to get through this gate without raising an undead army or summoning demons? Her hand rested on the grip of her mace, ready for whatever horrors may await them beyond.

Merrin took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves as she stepped up to the gate's lock mechanism. The ancient runes etched into the stone seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy, and she could feel the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. But they'd come this far, and the thought of turning back now made her stomach churn. She needed to focus. She examined the lock more closely, tracing the intricate patterns with the tips of her fingers. The mechanism itself looked to be a complex series of gears and levers—far beyond anything she'd encountered in her thieving career.