Round 85 Transcript

<beat>
<character>Jeane</character>
<action>Grabbing the heavy dresser, Jeane shoves it across the tilting floor, her fingers digging into the wood as she struggles to keep her balance.</action>
<intent>to maintain the barrier spell and hold off the structural collapse</intent>
<claims>The wooden frame groans ominously, creaking under the weight of the dresser, but Jeane refuses to let go.</claims>
<requests>Hold on, I can make it!</requests>
<change>The dresser crashes against the door frame, splintering the wood and sending shards flying everywhere. The sound echoes through the bathroom, making it hard for anyone to focus on anything else.</change>
<open_question>Will the dresser hold the door back, or will the structural collapse continue?</open_question>
</beat>

Hera watches in horror as Jeane struggles to maintain her barrier spell, the dresser groaning ominously against the doorframe. She can see the strain etched on Jeane's face, the way her muscles tense with each creak and splinter of wood. "What can I do?" Hera asks, hating the helplessness in her voice. The water from the broken shower continues to rise, soaking into her jeans and sending shivers of cold through her body. She shudders, pressing herself back against the wall as far from the spreading liquid as possible. The wardstone pulses like a heartbeat against her skin, each throb sending a jolt of fear down her spine. It's as if the stone itself is alive, reacting to their presence with growing intensity. Hera swallows hard, trying to push down the rising panic in her chest. She glances around the room, her eyes falling on the various toys and implements scattered across the floor. The sight sends a fresh wave of dread through her. She knows what those things are for, has seen them used before in the videos she's watched. But right now, they feel like taunts, mocking her with their promise of pleasure when all she wants is to survive. "Halie," Hera whispers, turning to the cleric. "What about a prayer? Could you...I don't know, call on your gods for help or something?"

Halie meets her gaze, her own eyes wide with fear. "I...I can try," she says hesitantly. "But I'm not sure even they could stop this now."

Hera nods slowly, feeling the last shreds of hope slipping away. She looks back at Jeane, still straining against the dresser, and feels a pang of sympathy for the sorcerer's plight. "Jeane," she calls out, taking a step towards her. "Let me help you with that."

Jeane's head snaps up, her eyes narrowing as she takes in Hera's approach. "No," she snaps, her voice sharp with warning. "Stay back. I can handle this."

Hera hesitates, her hand outstretched towards the dresser. She wants to help, to do something to ease the burden on Jeane's shoulders. But at the same time, she knows that getting too close to the wardstone is a risk she can't afford to take. In the end, she steps back, pressing herself against the wall and watching as Jeane continues her futile struggle against the collapsing building. The air is thick with tension, each creak and groan of the wooden frame sending fresh waves of fear through Hera's body. She closes her eyes, trying to block out the chaos around her. But even in the darkness behind her lids, she can feel the wardstone's pulsing energy, like a beacon calling to her from across the room. She shudders, knowing that there is no escape from this nightmare, no way out but through. All she can do now is wait, and pray that whatever fate awaits them on the other side of this ordeal, it will be better than what they face here in the depths of this crumbling hell.

I feel the wardstone's pulse again—stronger now, like teeth worrying at my skin through layers of spellwork and wood. The dresser I just slammed against the door groans ominously under its own weight; the bathroom is tilting more steeply by the second. My barrier spell flares white-hot across my vision every time that thing pulses beneath us, fighting to hold back whatever energy's trying to get out—or us trying to get in. The water from the broken shower has mixed with all this spilled lube and turned half the floor into a fucking skating rink. Halie's staring at me like I'm going to fix everything—she just wants prayer to work magic but that won't stop concrete. Silra's got actual sense, lining up those bottles like shit might matter when the wall comes down. Hera's in the corner looking terrified and useless, and Abby's frozen halfway between helping and passing out completely. I don't have time for anyone's panic right now—every pulse is death counting down, and my spell can't hold forever against whatever the fuck that thing is trying to do. The wardstone pulses again, harder this time, and wood splinters behind the dresser with an awful cracking sound. The entire wall shifts half an inch toward us; I feel it through my boots. My demon blood's flaring hot underneath all this—control slipping when I need it sharpest. Can't let anyone see that part of me come out right now or we're all fucked twice over. I snarl at the floor, "Everyone shut up and brace yourselves! Next pulse takes down the whole wall!"

The wardstone pulses again, hard enough to make my teeth ache—and Jeane's spell flares so bright I have to look away. "Hera!" I call over the creaking timber. "How strong is that floor between us? Tell me now or we're all buried together."