Round 152 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.

My concentration fractures. The wardstone pulses again, stronger this time—its master waking up to our presence in his lair. I feel my magic straining against the dark energy like a thin sheet against fire, and my own body betrays me as milk leaks from my aching nipples, soaking through my robes. "Silra!" I shout into the darkness where she vanished with that damned mirror we needed to brace the door Halie's trying to hold shut with her burned hands. "Get your ass back here now unless you want to explain to that wardstone's master why we couldn't maintain proper fucking boundaries!"

I feel every pulse of the stone through my spell, each one pushing against me, testing for weaknesses. My fingers twitch with the effort of holding this shield while keeping half our party from panicking into uselessness—especially Hera whose fear I can taste like copper in the back of my throat. Two minutes. Maybe three if we're lucky—and then this whole floor goes down anyway. The building groans around us, a dying beast giving its last gasps as water floods through cracks and spilled lube makes the floor slick enough to skate on.

I push harder against the door frame, my burned hands screaming as I brace the mirror there. The wardstone pulses are growing stronger now, each beat like a fist hammering against wood and stone. I can feel it through the soles of my boots—this thing is answering us, responding to our presence with something hungry. "Hera! Get back from the door," I shout over my shoulder. "The floor's shifting under us." My hands are slipping on the frame; the spilled lubricant and water has made everything slick as ice. If this barricade fails now, if that energy gets through... I don't want to think about what it might do to us—especially Hera, who's already terrified enough without facing whatever corruption is behind that door. My grip is failing. I need something heavy, immediate, or we're all at its mercy.

Hera's heart pounds in her chest as she hears Halie's cry of warning. She presses herself against the wall, feeling the rough texture through her thin shirt. The wardstone pulses seem to reverberate through her very bones now, an ominous rhythm that makes her skin crawl. "Stay back from the door!" Hera shouts to anyone who can hear her, her voice echoing in the confined space of the hallway. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself as panic threatens to overwhelm her. The building creaks around them, timbers groaning as if in pain. Hera's mind races, trying to think of some way out of this nightmare. They're trapped, injured, and the one thing they need to avoid - that damn wardstone - is getting stronger by the second. She looks around frantically, her eyes landing on a heavy wooden chair tucked against the wall. It's not much, but it might buy them some time if they can use it to brace the door. "Halie, I'm going to try and wedge this chair under the door handle," Hera calls out, her voice trembling slightly. "Cover me!"

She takes a deep breath and starts to move, her body tensing as she prepares to rush for the chair. She prays that whatever force is behind that wardstone doesn't decide to come after them now...