Round 37

The runes covering the massive gate are no longer just symbols—they writhe with an unsettling animation, each one seeming to stare at the party with cold, calculating eyes. A heavy thud resonates from within the structure, growing louder by the second. Varrika steps forward, her scarred hands gripping a massive mace. “Halie, stay sharp,” she growls. “We need your faith now more than ever.” The dwarf woman positions herself between the cleric and the ominous gate, her expression grim.

Jeane approaches cautiously, her wings tucked close to her body. She extends a hand towards the runes, feeling their power pulse against her own magic. “A sentient ward,” she whispers. “Ancient beyond reckoning.” The symbols aren’t just markings—they’re alive in some way, their energy malevolent and hungry.

Merrin edges closer to the gate, her heart hammering in her chest. The runes pulse with an eerie energy, their eyes seeming to follow her every move. She can practically feel them assessing the party, weighing their worth against whatever ancient purpose they serve.