Round 40

Merrin crouches low at the threshold of the crumbling stone tower, her keen halfling eyes scanning every inch of the shadowed corridor ahead. The air here feels wrong—heavy with a malevolence that settles like dust in her throat. The walls pulse with sickening sigils, and something deeper within whispers with a sound like bone on stone.

She signals for the others to hold back, fingers brushing the cool metal of her crossbow. "Wait," she hisses softly. "This place is wrong—something ancient and hungry sleeps here." Her gaze darts to the pulsing symbols on the walls, then to the darkness beyond where the scratching sounds grow louder.

Varrika steps closer, her hand resting on the hilt of her mace. "What do you see?" she asks, voice low.

Merrin shakes her head, a frown creasing her brow. "Not what—who. Or what used to be who." She gestures to the thorny barrier they just passed through. "Those weren't natural growths. Someone—or something—wants us here for a reason."

The air shifts as something moves deeper within the tower. Merrin's hand tightens on her crossbow, fingers brushing the cool metal. "Stay close," she mutters. "And keep your eyes open for anything that moves."

She takes a cautious step forward, the corridor stretching into darkness ahead. The walls pulse with sickening sigils, and the air grows heavy with decay and something ancient and malevolent that makes her skin crawl.

The scratching sounds continue, a faint but insistent whisper from somewhere deeper within the tower's depths...