Round 13 Transcript

At The base of a crumbling stone tower, the pressure shifts from waiting to immediate risk. The ward answers the party's presence with a fresh pulse through the stone and no one can mistake it for safety. The nearest sign of danger is now Skeletons: Undead remnants of the tower's original defenders, now animated by dark magic to endlessly guard their ancient home.. Someone has to answer that change now.

I mark the skeletal movement patterns as we advance—two patrols in alternating corridors. The ward pulses against my skin feel wrong, like rot in stone. Their coordination suggests command, not mindless shambling. Halie's right: something intelligent directs them. I signal Varikka to hold fire, then cast a subtle spell to track their movements across the next hour. We need to map this before committing resources. The dark magic feels fresh here—not decades old, not centuries. Something's feeding this ward recently, probably upstairs.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves as I lead Varrika into the crumbling stone tower. The air is thick with the weight of history and the sour tang of dark magic. I can feel the pulse of the ward against my skin like a sick heartbeat, and it makes my stomach churn.

I can feel it in my bones - this tower remembers pain and breathes it out again in fresh magic. The skeletons move with purpose, their movements coordinated like a well-oiled machine. This isn't the mindless shambling of simple undead - no, there's intelligence behind these movements, a command that speaks of something darker at work. I tighten my grip on the crossbow, the weight of it familiar and comforting in my hands. Merrin stays close by my side, her own weapon trained on the shadows ahead. We move forward cautiously, each step echoing loudly in the crumbling stone corridor. Jeane casts a subtle spell, her fingers moving in intricate patterns as she marks the movements of the skeletons. Halie keeps her holy symbol ready, the silver catching the faint light and winking like an eye watching for danger. Seraphine stays alert, her gaze darting from shadow to shadow, ever watchful. But it's the ward that concerns me most. The pulse against my skin feels wrong, like a sickness in the very stone itself. It beats in time with my heart, a constant reminder of the dark power at work here. And with each fresh pulse comes the knowledge that something is feeding this ward recently, probably upstairs. I signal to Merrin, a subtle movement of my free hand. She nods, understanding my unspoken command. We'll hold our fire for now, wait and watch before committing to combat. There's no telling what might come at us in this accursed place, and I'd rather face it on my terms than be caught off guard. The tower looms ahead of us, a crumbling reminder of a forgotten age. But the magic that pulses through its stones is anything but forgotten - it's alive and hungry, waiting for us to step into its maw. And so we press on, one careful step at a time, into the unknown depths of this cursed place, ready to face whatever horrors may await us within its walls.