Round 154 Transcript

Jeane's hand trembles on the wall as she struggles to maintain her concentration against the surging wardstone energy. The pain and milk leakage from her breasts intensify, threatening to break her focus. Silra sets the mirror against the door frame to stabilize the barricade, but Hera remains trapped beyond, crying out in distress. The floor creaks ominously beneath Halie's feet as she braces herself against the door with the mirror. The lubricant and water flooding from the broken pipe create a slippery surface, making every step a precarious one. Water seeps into the corridor, pooling around the feet of the party members, making it difficult to maintain balance. As the wardstone energy continues to pulse through the wood, the mirror begins to vibrate, its surface rippling like water.

I brace the mirror harder against the door frame, my burned hands screaming protest but I grit my teeth through it. Hera—Gods above, she's right there by the wardstone door and those pulses are getting stronger with every beat like a heart waking up after years dead. "Hera!" My voice cracks with effort. "Get back from that door! Now!"

The floor shifts beneath us again, more ominous this time—a long groan of stressed timber. The water pooling across the floor from the burst pipes makes everything slick and treacherous. If she slips right there... I can't even think about it. "Jeane's barely holding on with that spell and you're standing in front of the thing we're trying to keep out!" My words come sharper than intended but fear sharpens everything. The wardstone pulses are accelerating now, each one sending a visible shudder through the stone itself like it's breathing or maybe something inside is waking up. Silra's got the mirror braced better than I could manage alone, but it won't hold forever against whatever force is trying to push through from that dark corridor beyond. The cracks around the door frame are leaking energy now—a sickly green glow that makes my skin crawl and my stomach turn. I need to get Hera away from there before she panics completely or before that wardstone pulls her in somehow. But moving means leaving this barricade, and if we lose this door I don't know what else can keep whatever's coming back. The wardstone pulses feel like they're reaching into my chest now with each beat—like fingers trying to grab hold of something inside me. Whatever force is behind that thing, it knows we're here now for certain.

The door groans under its own weight now, the mirror barely holding it closed against whatever pushes from the other side. Hera's screaming doesn't help—just makes my ears ring and everyone else panic more. This building is coming down around us like a bad pun, and that wardstone keeps pulsing like some sick heart trying to beat back to life. Jeane's on her knees now, which means she's two seconds from letting the spell drop or passing out from strain, possibly both simultaneously. Either way, we're fucked if whatever's on the other side of that door gets through while we're trapped in a collapsing corridor with no exits except the one blocked by a possessed piece-of-shit door and a mirror held up by desperation and bad carpentry. I grab another bottle of lube—because of course there's more—and empty it over the floor around Jeane. "Stop trying to be a hero," I say, voice flat. "You pass out here, that wardstone wins, and we all die messier than necessary." I press my palm against her back, feeling the tremors run through her. "Stay conscious, stay angry—whichever keeps you alive longest."

The building shudders again, louder this time. Plaster dust falls like confetti at a funeral. We need an exit that doesn't involve dying horribly, and we need it five minutes ago.