Round 73

The gate's runes pulsed with a malevolent light, each glyph seeming to watch the party with hungry eyes. Varrika stepped forward, her heavy mace held at the ready, muscles tensing beneath scarred skin. "Careful, little one," she rumbled, more warning than nickname in her tone as Merrin's nimble fingers danced across the stone surface. The wiry halfling froze mid-probe, eyes widening as the ward's hum deepened into a low growl that vibrated through the very air. Jeane moved closer, her crimson eyes narrowing as she studied the awakening symbols with the focused intensity of one who'd seen too many ancient horrors. "Stand back," she commanded softly, not unkindly. "Sentient wards require... delicacy." Her own wings shifted restlessly behind her, leathery membranes rustling like dry leaves in a storm wind. The corridor beyond the gate remained oppressively silent save for the steadily approaching footsteps—click-clack of bone on stone that seemed to echo from both near and far simultaneously. Varrika's grip tightened on her mace handle. "Whatever's coming," she growled, mor...