Round 100

The stone groans around them, a sound like ancient wood settling or a beast shifting in its sleep. The air grows heavier with each step deeper into the chamber, thick with the stench of decay and something else—something metallic and wrong. Jeane's wings resist the oppressive magic that makes her skin crawl and feathers ache. She can feel every stone watching them, pulsing with malice. That rune isn't just a decoration—it's a heart beating poison into this place.

Varrika forces herself upright despite the poison burning through her veins, her dwarf's stubborn nature flaring defiantly against the encroaching darkness. She glares at the rune with fierce determination. "We're not dying here," she growls, more to herself than anyone else. The magic feels wrong—something unclean even in the stillness between breaths. She needs to bless the water before they drink it, but the thought of touching anything in these halls makes her skin crawl.

Halie moves closer to Varrika, her hand hovering uncertainly between comfort and distance from the spreading corruption. The magic here feels wrong—something unclean even in the stillness between breaths. She needs to bless the water before they drink it, but the thought of touching anything in these halls makes her skin crawl.