Round 77

Halie descends the crumbling stone steps with her silver holy symbol clutched tightly in one hand, her other hand resting on the hilt of her heavy mace. The air grows heavier with each step downward, thick with an oppressive energy that makes her skin crawl and her breath catch in her throat. She can feel it pressing down on her, a palpable weight that seems to resist their intrusion into this ancient place. She reaches the bottom and turns to face the others, her expression grave. This tower... it's alive, in a way no natural structure should be. The stones themselves pulse with dark magic, and I can hear them creaking and groaning as if in pain. She gestures to the walls around them, where faint sigils seem to writhe just at the edge of visibility. We need to proceed with extreme caution. Whatever sleeps here, it's not resting peacefully.

Jeane descends next, her wings tucked close against her back, eyes narrowed against the oppressive atmosphere. I feel it too, this wrongness clawing at my senses. The magic here is... tainted. Demonic in nature, but older than any demon I've encountered—this corruption predates even the fall of my kind. She moves closer to Halie, her voice dropping to a whisper. We need to be ready for anything. Whatever sleeps here, it's ancient and powerful—and it doesn't want us disturbing its rest.

Seraphine descends last, her keen eyes already scanning the chamber ahead for any signs of magical traps or weaknesses. Fascinating... the architecture itself seems to channel this dark energy, amplifying it throughout the structure. She traces a finger along one of the writhing sigils on the wall, her expression thoughtful despite the obvious danger. This kind of binding... it's not natural magic. Someone—or something—created this place as a prison, and whatever was contained here has had centuries to... adapt.