The Broodmother's fury echoed through the chamber, a chilling cacophony that reverberated off the stone walls. Her venomous bite had failed to claim a victim, and now she faced the full brunt of our collective wrath. Her eyes, glowing with an otherworldly malevolence, scanned the battlefield as she calculated her next move.
Baelgor's shield absorbed the brunt of her attacks, his muscles straining under the force. "Hold the line!" he bellowed, his voice unwavering. He was our anchor, a bulwark against the Broodmother's onslaught. The ground beneath his feet was slick with the ichor of fallen spiders, and the air hummed with residual dark energy from Morgana's spells.