Round 10

The tower's magic pulsed with fresh dark energy, a sensation that crawled over Jeane's skin like oily fingers. The ward was active—recently fed by something powerful enough to animate multiple skeletons in coordinated formation. This wasn't mindless undead shambling; these were tactical units following orders from beyond the grave. "Fuck," she hissed under her breath, wings shifting restlessly behind her. "Merrin! Eyes off the tits and onto the targets. I need you to map their patrol patterns before we go in." The halfling woman tore her gaze away from Jeane's chest with visible effort, a flush creeping up her neck even as she raised her crossbow to track the nearest skeleton. Merrin was competent enough, but her obvious lust for her taller companions sometimes made her scatterbrained at the worst moments.

The dwarf warrior Varrika stepped forward, her scarred hands tightening on the haft of her massive mace. "Something's not right here," she rumbled, her voice low and gravelly. "This magic feels wrong—recent dark energy feeding old enchantments." She glanced sideways at Jeane, her expression unreadable beneath the weathered lines of her face. "Skeletons likely active inside. We need to prepare for close-quarters undead combat."

Jeane nodded grimly, her crimson eyes fixed on the tower entrance where shadows seemed to writhe with a life of their own. "Agreed. Merrin, I need you to map their patrol patterns before we go in." She turned to address the rest of the group, her wings settling into a more relaxed posture behind her. "Listen up—we're dealing with coordinated undead here, likely under the control of something stronger. Stay together, stay alert, and for fuck's sake, keep your eyes off Merrin's tits if you want to live through this."