The war camp gates loom black and tall ahead. Sentries brace spears across the road, their eyes fixed on the glowing residue streaked over Unrok's armor.
The Scout
Unrok, they think you're marked. If that Archivist set this, this is the hinge of it.
The Stranger
And if the gate shuts now, we're all trapped outside with him.
A hidden pulse answers from the road behind them. Dust shivers. The cleared path begins to pinch narrow again, as if the earth itself is trying to remember a snare.
The Scout
The trap is waking up. He wants the gates closed before Unrok can break through.
The sentries tighten their line, but one gate-warden glances past Unrok toward the road, seeing the shift too late.
Gate Warden
Hold! If he is tainted, then prove it. One step closer and the camp seals.
Unrok stands at the threshold, the camp ahead and the trap behind, with only a moment left to force, yield, or find a way through.
Get the gate wardens to let us into the war camp