Round 23

Jeane crouches closer to examine the runes, her wings folding tight against her back. The stone feels warm beneath her fingertips—not dead stone but something alive, ancient malice condensed into sigils. She traces one carefully with a gloved finger, and the ward hums in response, a low vibration that sinks teeth into her skull. Whatever's inside knows we're here. Knew the moment we stepped within its domain. The magic pulses faster as Merrin's iron tools clatter against the ground nearby—stupid halfling almost setting off half a dozen traps before we even realized what was happening. Th...