Round 156 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.

Jeane’s hands tremble as she clutches her staff, the wardstone pulsing rhythmically beneath them like a diseased heart beating through the floorboards—she grits her teeth against the wretched energy trying to pull her down into its depths. Silra! Get that door barricaded—NOW—not later! She drops to one knee, hand flat against the wall for support as the structure groans above them. Her breasts ache with contained energy, nipples hardening painfully as milk begins to leak through her shirt in thin streams that darken the fabric. Halie! Help me maintain this barrier before we’re all crushed or pulled apart by that thing! Jeane’s voice cracks with barely controlled panic, the spellwork straining against the wardstone’s pull—every pulse weakens her resolve and dampens her robes further as milk leaks faster. Someone grab Hera and get her away from there! The energy’s too strong for her to handle without… consequences.

I grab more lubricant, slosh it around her feet. 'This is what you wanted—slippery floors and nowhere to go.' The building groans like it's got arthritis. I press my palm flat against her back—I can feel the spell vibrating through her ribs, shaking her from the inside out. Her shirt's wet through already, dark circles spreading. 'Stop trying to be a hero,' I say, voice sharp. 'You're going to tear yourself apart.'

The wardstone pulses faster now, each beat driving the pain deeper into my burned hands. The mirror I'm using as a brace shifts on the slick floor—Abby's spilled lubricant is making this barricade nearly impossible to maintain. "Hera, get away from that door!" I shout over the groaning of the building. "The wardstone energy is pulling at you!"

Jeane drops to one knee beside me, her face contorted in pain as she tries to hold the wardstone corruption at bay. Her shirt is darkening with something leaking through—milk, by the looks of it, but corrupted. "Halie!" She gasps between clenched teeth. "Grab Hera and get her out of here before the building collapses completely!"

I can't leave my post though—the door frame is cracking now with each pulse from the wardstone below. If I move, this barricade fails and we're all exposed to whatever hellish energy is seeping through. "Silra!" I call out desperately. "Help me brace this—it's slipping!"

My hands scream in agony as I adjust my grip on the mirror, trying to find purchase on the wet floorboards. The wardstone pulses again, and I feel it like a physical blow—not just to my ears but to my gut. "We need a plan that doesn't involve sacrificing any of us!" I say, mostly to myself because there's no time for discussion now.