Round 38 Transcript

The ground beneath their feet shudders as the slow footsteps approach the ancient rune-covered gate. The air thickens with malevolent energy, and the ward's symbols on the gate seem to writhe like living serpents. Merrin's lockpicks tremble in her hand, and Jeane's eyes dart towards the symbols, her brow furrowed in concentration. Halie holds up a hand, her voice barely above a whisper. "Wait. The ward's energy is building. If we trigger it, I don't think we can counter the effects." The party's anxiety is palpable, and Seraphine's eyes flicker with concern, while Varrika's grip on her mace tightens. As they wait, the slow footsteps grow louder, and the ground begins to hum with a low, ominous vibration. The runes on the gate pulse with an otherworldly power, and Jeane's hand instinctively rises to grasp the hilt of her heavy mace, as if expecting it to be drawn from its scabbard at any moment.

The runes aren't just symbols—they're eyes. I can feel them tracking Merrin's movements, her fingers brushing iron against stone. That's not a simple ward; it's a living intelligence, and it doesn't want us anywhere near that gate. I push closer to the stones myself, extending gloved hands to read the sigils without touching directly. The magic pulses like a heartbeat under my palms—old power, dark power, bound here long before the tower even stood. If Merrin tries to pick those locks with her iron tools, I don't think we'll need to worry about whatever's inside waking up—the ward will tear us apart first. The footsteps grow louder now, and the ground trembles. Whatever's coming, it knows we're here. We can't stay exposed like this—back away from the gate. Seraphine's right; we need to understand what we're dealing with before forcing entry.

Merrin's gaze stretches wide as she watches the runes dance across the gate's surface. She takes a cautious step back, lockpicks still clutched tightly in her fist. "Alright, alright, I get it," she mutters, half to herself and half to the ward. "You don't like being poked and prodded." She glances over at Jeane, who's still poring over the sigils. "Any luck there? Cause I'm not keen on pissing off whatever's behind this thing any more than we have to." The footsteps echo again, louder this time, and Merrin feels a shiver run down her spine. Whatever's coming, it's close now. And she has a feeling they won't like what they find on the other side.

I need to document these runes properly before Merrin does anything reckless. The way they shift when she gets close—that's not just magical theory, that's sentience. And whatever's inside is getting closer. We can't risk this blindly. Jeane and Seraphine, I'm going to cast a divination spell to sense the ward's boundaries or weak points. Stay back from those symbols until we know exactly what we're dealing with. Merrin, I understand you want to help, but we need to be smart about this. The runes are watching us too closely for comfort. We're not ready to force entry yet—especially if that means unleashing whatever's been waiting in there all these centuries.