Round 66 Transcript

Ms. Stone's voice cuts through the tension like a knife. "Enough theatrics." She gestures sharply and all four soldiers lower their weapons in unison—training evident even as they exchange confused glances.

The twins' symbols pulse brighter still, almost painfully bright in the dim alley. The enhanced woman circles Silra again, close enough that her power crackles across the rogue's skin like static electricity—a constant reminder of how outmatched they are.

Decision time: does Halia try to bluff her way through? Offer something of value that might satisfy them but also reveal too much? Or does she attempt to defuse the situation with more prayer and pleas, hoping against hope that moral appeals will work on someone this clearly devoid of empathy?

Jeane stands defiantly between her naked cultists and the soldiers who point guns at them like animals. Her wings are half-spread with barely contained rage, symbols on her skin pulsing hungrily despite the cold air.

"Who the fuck are you people?" she demands in a voice that echoes slightly in the alley. The twin cultists advance in perfect synchronization—identical faces framed by glowing symbols that cast everything in sickly red light. Behind them emerges a third figure, tall and menacing even at this distance, her own matching symbols pulsing with predatory hunger.

The soldiers look terrified but don't lower their weapons yet. One of them mutters, "What the hell is happening here?" before his sergeant barks an order to shut up.

Jeane's gaze locks onto the three magical enforcers—she doesn't give a fuck about these soldiers, but those glowing freaks? They're a different story entirely. The way their symbols match? That coordination? She's seen this shit before in the deeper circles of her own cult workings, and it never ends well for the subjects being "processed".

She feels her fingers curling into claws at her sides. Every instinct screams at her to attack first and ask questions later—but that would get them all killed faster than trying to talk their way out. And these enhanced bitches? They probably don't even blink before opening fire.

Fuck. Halia's on her knees praying like the desperate virgin she is, which might actually work for once if they're looking for easy targets. Hera's shaking like a leaf next to Abby who looks ready to pass out against that wall. Silra? The treacherous little shit just stands there calculating angles instead of actually helping.

Fine. If these fuckers want a show, Jeane will give them one—just not the kind they're expecting.

[Jeane | Sorcerer]
I feel my wings twitching with barely contained violence as I take in this fresh nightmare scenario—two identical cultists with glowing symbols, a descending enhanced freak matching their power, those helpless soldiers pointing guns at us like animals.

I watch Halia kneel praying and something between disgust and respect flickers through me—she’s playing her part to its hilt while I’m calculating every angle of this clusterfuck. Four women naked in an alley, soldiers aiming guns, two mystery cultists with glowing symbols, one cold bitch in a suit who clearly didn’t sign up for this much chaos… and here we all are.

Jeane’s ready to explode into violence, Hera looks like she might faint, Abby’s clinging to the wall like it’ll protect her from reality—but then there’s Halia on her knees looking angelic while I’m already planning how to carve our way out if needed. This isn’t protection anymore. This is containment.

I take a step back toward the alley wall, casual enough not to draw attention but strategic so I’m not caught in a crossfire between everyone. The soldiers are clearly uncomfortable with this escalating situation—good, use that. The twins? Identical fuckers with matching glowsticks and no facial expressions worth reading.

Ms. Stone? Observing from afar like this is performance art rather than actual crisis management. Amateurs all of them, even the enhanced one who thinks circling Silra will intimidate us. I know better—she’s profiling each of us, determining threat levels and disposal options.

Fuck Halia and her hero complex. If she gets herself killed trying to play savior, that’s on her—but I’m not dying for this shitshow. Not like this.

Halie (C, Cleric)
I kneel praying between the naked bodies of my new sisters and the soldiers who point guns at us like animals.* The words come automatically—protect these innocents, shield them from harm, guide their path even if it costs me my life. But God doesn't answer this prayer with fire from heaven or armies descending to smite our enemies.

The twin cultists lower their hoods in unison—identical faces framed by symbols that pulse like living things beneath their skin. Their eyes meet mine across the space between us, and I see nothing human there, no flicker of recognition or empathy.

I shift my prayer instead: grant me strength to resist this temptation, deliver us from evil in whatever form it takes.

[Silra | Rogue]
I watch Halia kneel praying and something between disgust and respect flickers through me—she’s playing her part to its hilt while I’m calculating every angle of this clusterfuck. Four women naked in an alley, soldiers aiming guns, two mystery cultists with glowing symbols, one cold bitch in a suit who clearly didn’t sign up for this much chaos… and here we all are.

Jeane’s ready to explode into violence, Hera looks like she might faint, Abby’s clinging to the wall like it’ll protect her from reality—but then there’s Halia on her knees looking angelic while I’m already planning how to carve our way out if needed. This isn’t protection anymore. This is containment.

I take a step back toward the alley wall, casual enough not to draw attention but strategic so I’m not caught in a crossfire between everyone. The soldiers are clearly uncomfortable with this escalating situation—good, use that. The twins? Identical fuckers with matching glowsticks and no facial expressions worth reading.

Ms. Stone? Observing from afar like this is performance art rather than actual crisis management. Amateurs all of them, even the enhanced one who thinks circling Silra will intimidate us. I know better—she’s profiling each of us, determining threat levels and disposal options.

Fuck Halia and her hero complex. If she gets herself killed trying to play savior, that’s on her—but I’m not dying for this shitshow. Not like this.