Round 126 Transcript

At dark corridor in New York high rise penthouse suite, the pressure shifts from waiting to immediate risk. 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 structural collapse imminent. Someone has to answer that change now.

I hear the building groan like it's gasping its last breath. The wardstone pulses faster now—it’s almost like a heartbeat, sick and racing. Hera’s huddled behind me, trying to be small. I turn to Silra because we need answers fast. "That service shaft—can you actually get us through it? Right now?" My hands are burning from touching the damn stone earlier; holding this makeshift barricade is starting to feel like torture. The floor’s slick as ice under my boots, water and lube mixing together in a disgusting mess. Another groan from above, louder this time. Jeane’s shouting something about following instructions—always with the orders—but I can barely hear her over the creaking wood and the wardstone’s sick rhythm. We don’t have minutes left here; we have seconds. I push Hera back further with my elbow—not touching her, not letting that corruption get closer—and focus on Silra. "Tell me what our next move is," I say, voice tight. "Because if you can’t get us through that shaft, we’re dead anyway." The door wobbles again—I add my weight to the barricade and hope it holds a little longer. Just long enough for somebody to come up with something genius. The pressure shifts; the ward answers presence. It’s not asking questions anymore—it’s demanding attention. I can feel it pulling at the edges of my mind, trying to drag me back toward that dark room. My arms shake from holding the barricade and fighting off whatever sick temptation is coming through this door.

The service shaft is barely wide enough for Hera, let alone me and certainly not Jeane in her current state. The wardstone pulses behind us like a sick heart, and I can feel its energy bleeding into the corridor. I turn to C. "You want truth? The shaft is too small for all of us, especially with your Cleric bulk." I glance at Hera's face—she looks terrified but steady. "We have two options: I go first to clear whatever’s down there, or we try to brace the door long enough for someone to call for help." My fingers itch for a toolkit that isn't here. "Option three? Jeane calms the hell down and helps us think."

The building groans overhead like it's about to split apart. We're running out of time, and I hate being cornered with no good options.