Round 28

Jeane descended the stairs first, her crimson eyes scanning every shadow and flickering torchlight. The stone vibrated underfoot with a malevolent pulse—this place remembered blood and magic long after it should have forgotten. Merrin's torchlight flickered above like a trapped heart trying to escape its cage. Varrika held the entrance with steady competence, her crossbow trained on the darkness beyond. Halie descended carefully, mace in hand, her holy symbol held close—a beacon against the encroaching dark. The weight of the tower pressed down, thick with ancient blasphemy and fresh death.

What ancient horror fuels these bones? Halie whispered, more to herself than anyone else. The stone remembers screams. She traced the pulsing runes with her eyes, following their sinister rhythm. Seraphine, tell me what you see, she called up the stairs. And Varrika—keep that entrance clear no matter what.

Jeane moved forward with predatory grace, her dark leathery wings half-spread for balance. The magic here felt wrong—twisted and hungry in a way that set her teeth on edge. She needed to map these skeleton patrols first, identify any command center before they proceeded deeper. One wrong step could unleash... she didn't even know what. Something worse than undead guardians.

The air grew colder still as they descended, each stone step echoing with the weight of centuries. Merrin's torchlight flickered below—trapped in a pit that should never have opened beneath her feet. Jeane could hear her muffled voice now, rising with panic despite her best efforts to stay calm. Merrin, she called softly down into the darkness. Stay still. We're coming for you.

Halie's grip tightened on her mace, the silver cross around her neck seeming too small against this ancient evil. She knew her role—ensure party safety through vigilance and healing readiness—but every shadow seemed to move with purpose here. The dark energies pulsed stronger now, responding to their presence like a predator waking from slumber.

We need to understand what's happening below before we act, Halie thought, her cleric's training warring with the primal fear that screamed at her to run. But they couldn't leave Merrin trapped, and the source of this dark power needed to be stopped. She glanced at Jeane, noting the succubus's tense posture—focused on tactical analysis but disturbed by what she sensed.

Focus, Halie muttered under her breath. One step at a time. The stone vibrated again, stronger this time—a fresh pulse of dark magic feeding the waiting undead. She readied herself, mace held steady as she descended further into the tower's hungry embrace.