Round 22

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.

Jeane steps forward through the crumbling archway into the tower's shadowed embrace, her sorcerer's eyes already scanning for patterns in the gloom—ward lines, energy signatures, anything that might explain this sudden surge of activity. The air tastes wrong here; fresh magic layered over centuries of decay doesn't happen naturally. "Halie," she calls back over her shoulder, voice controlled and low, "keep that holy symbol visible but not raised as a threat yet—we don't want to provoke..."

I stand at the edge of the pit, my heart hammering against my ribs as I peer down into the darkness where Merrin has fallen. The air here is thick with a fresh and potent magic layered over ancient decay, an unsettling combination that makes my skin prickle. "The runes on the walls are pulsing," I call out, my voice low and urgent. "Somebody or something is feeding power into this place, and it's not just old magic left over from when this tower was first built." I take a step back from the edge, my hand instinctively going to the hilt of my sword.

I keep my mace at the ready, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. Merrin's absence weighs heavy on my mind, but I know we can't afford to let our guard down. The air is thick with an ominous energy, and my instincts scream at me to turn back. But we've come too far to retreat now. "Halie," I call out in a low voice, "can you sense any undead nearby? I don't like the feel of this place."