Round 50

The tower's darkness seems to pulse with a malevolent rhythm as the party descends cautiously. The air grows colder, thick with an unsettling energy that makes skin crawl and breath catch. Each footstep echoes ominously in the oppressive silence. Varrika takes point, her hand resting on the haft of her mace as she scans for hidden passages or traps. Jeane circles above, her dark wings beating steadily as she assesses the situation with sorcerous senses. The ancient runes etched into the stone walls pulse with an eerie light, drawing power from the very stones themselves—an unsettling display of dark magic that sends a shiver down Halie's spine. She knows this kind of energy all too well: demonic in nature, hungry and corrupting. The cleric shakes her head slowly, her spiritual senses screaming warnings. "Those runes... they're not just old magic. They're hungry. Merrin, I know you want to charge up there, but we need to understand what's feeding them first."