Round 20

I descend the staircase with cautious steps, my mace held ready in one hand while the other grips the wall for balance. The air grows colder as we descend, and the sound of scurrying below intensifies. I pause at the bottom, torch held high to illuminate the narrow corridor stretching ahead. Great. More darkness. My eyes scan the walls and ceiling for any sign of movement or traps. Keep close, everyone. And stay alert. Something's not right down here.

Seraphine steps forward, her keen eyes scanning the intricate patterns etched into the stone wall. Fascinating... these aren't mere decorations. They're a complex ward designed to contain something powerful. She traces one of the symbols with a gloved finger, brow furrowed in concentration. The magic here is ancient and malevolent—far beyond anything I've encountered before. We should proceed with extreme caution.

Jeane circles the central rune warily, her wings tucked close in this confined space. The air here is wrong—saturated with old death magic so thick it feels like I'm breathing poisoned silk. She crouches low to examine the glowing sigils more closely, crimson eyes narrowed in concentration. These markings... I recognize the style from forbidden texts back at the university, though thankfully never having had to study them firsthand. This isn't merely a magical trap; it's an ancient containment ward, likely holding something far worse than whatever animated those skeletons upstairs.

Merrin's eyes dart around the chamber, taking in every shadow and crevice. The oppressive atmosphere presses down on her like a physical weight. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "Alright, listen up," Merrin says, her voice hushed but commanding. "We've got a problem. That sword... it's not just cursed, it's dangerous. I don't know what'll happen if we touch it directly." She looks to each of her companions in turn, gauging their reactions. "Halie, keep that holy symbol at the ready—it might offer some protection against whatever's down there. Seraphine, see if you can decipher those runes before we stumble into something we regret. And Jeane... try not to accidentally trigger anything with those wings of yours."

Halie crouches at the edge of the pit, heart pounding. Merrin? Her voice echoes off the stone walls, barely able to make out her friend's shape in the darkness below. The air grows colder still, and something about those markings on the wall... they crawl when you look away. She reaches for her tinderbox and a fresh torch, hands shaking just enough to betray her fear. We need light down there—something that doesn't depend on unstable magic. This whole place feels wrong.