Round 20 Transcript

Jeane tests the ancient rune-covered gate with a simple arcane gesture, and the air around the runes shimmers, casting an eerie blue glow. The magic is weak but present, and it seems to hum with a malevolent energy that makes the hairs on Merrin's arms stand on end. The runes begin to pulse more rapidly, as if in response to Jeane's test. The unknown entity within the tower stirs, its slow footsteps growing louder as it approaches the gate. The Ward's magic reacts, causing the air around the entrance to crackle with electricity. The runes on the gate emit a warning, a low rumble that makes the ground beneath the party's feet vibrate. A faint whispering begins to echo from within the tower, the words indistinguishable but the malevolent intent clear. The skeletons, sensing the Ward's reaction, take a step closer, their bony fingers flexing into grasping positions.

The air crackles with ancient magic as the runes on the gate pulse in response to Jeane's gesture. My hand tightens around my heavy mace, ready for whatever might come. Whatever's in there, whatever's making those footsteps... it knows we're here now. "Careful, Jeane," I grunt. "We don't know what this thing is, but it's not happy we're here." I take a step forward, putting myself between Halie and the corridor. That cleric means too much to me to let any dark magic touch her if I can help it. Seraphine, I see you eyeing those runes like they're a puzzle to be solved. Just remember, sometimes the oldest magic is the most dangerous. We need to tread carefully here if we want to come out of this tower in one piece. I glance at Merrin, the halfling rogue shifting from foot to foot, hand on her dagger hilt. "Merrin," I say sharply, "keep those tools sheathed for now. We don't need any sparks setting off whatever traps this thing has left."

The footsteps grow louder, and a chill runs down my spine. Whatever's in there, it's coming for us. I just hope our magic can hold up against whatever dark power this tower hides.

I trace the runes again—this isn't mere stonework, these are wards bound with dark magic older than even my goddess or yours. Whatever's in there, whatever's making those footsteps... it knows we're here now. Merrin, put down those tools—the iron might trigger whatever defenses this thing has left. Seraphine, if you're going to cast anything against those runes, make it something simple—just light or minor detection spells for now. We need to understand the mechanics before we stumble into them blind. This place feels wrong. The magic pulses like a wounded heart beneath us—the ward is alive, and it doesn't want visitors. I can taste the hunger in it, ancient and sharp. We proceed with caution, or we don't proceed at all.

Merrin eyes the pulsing runes warily, her small form tensed like a coiled spring. The air feels thick with ancient magic, making her skin prickle. She steps back from the gate, hand hovering over her lockpicks. "Right then, magic first before my delicate touch, eh? Can't say I'm surprised," she mutters, glancing at Jeane. "Just don't go setting off any nasty surprises while we're standing here like targets."

Merrin's gaze darts to the corridor behind them, where the slow footsteps echo ominously. She shifts her weight, itching to move but knowing they need to understand what they're dealing with first. "Whatever's in there, it's coming," she says quietly. "I just hope our mage can hold up her end before we get skewered or worse."

She keeps a wary eye on the gate as Jeane works, ready to dodge at the slightest hint of danger. The halfling's clever hands twitch with the urge to pick locks and disable traps, but she forces herself to wait. For now, at least. "Let me know when you're ready for some proper lockpicking," Merrin says, forcing a cheeky grin despite the dread pooling in her gut. "I'm better with keys than magic, but I'd rather not end up as a sacrifice to whatever dark power this tower hides."