Round 13 Transcript

Morning light streams through stained glass windows, casting vibrant hues across the dusty sanctuary. Two women lie sleeping on a front pew—Hera and Abby, their clothes slightly disheveled and skin glistening with perspiration. In the main hall, two figures sprawled across a pew, still lost in post-coital sleep.

A point of interest: The morning light filtering down from above outlines two figures sprawled across a pew, still lost in post-coital sleep. Their exposed skin catches the colorful light, revealing the aftermath of last night's activities. A visible danger: Silra stands at the foot of the stairs with a blade glinting in her hand, ready to deal with the awake civilian.

A decision for the party: Do you sneak upstairs to check on Hera and Abby, possibly alerting them to your presence, or do you remain quiet in the basement and discuss your next move?

Silra holsters her blade slowly, deliberately, making it clear this isn't capitulation but tactical reassessment. The morning light filtering through stained glass is too beautiful for bloodshed anyway—she'd rather remember this place for the cult's triumph than its cleanup.

Jeane wants miracles, fine. But time's a factor here. Every second that awake civilian stays conscious increases risk. Silra circles the basement perimeter instead, checking escape routes and identifying potential leverage points. If Jeane or Halie have magical tricks up their sleeves, great—she'll support whatever works quietly.

The blade stays close at her hip though. Because if this goes sideways? If that upstairs civilian starts screaming? Then it's every elf for herself, and nobody gets to lecture about murder in a church after what we did here last night.

Jeane descends the stairs slowly into the sanctuary, each footfall deliberate despite the exhaustion pulling at her limbs. The morning light through stained glass cast shifting patterns across the dusty floor, transforming the air into a kaleidoscope of color. Two women lay sprawled on the front pew—one stirring groggily, the other still deeply unconscious.

Silra moves past her toward the stairs with predatory grace, already reaching for a concealed blade—a brutally efficient solution that would leave them with corpses to explain. The thought made her skin crawl despite the lingering arousal still thrumming beneath her skin from last night's excesses. Hera and Abby had been just following orders, their bodies used as offerings in service to darker appetites.

Halie hovers anxiously near the basement entrance, her nervous energy palpable even in the gloom. She was right to be worried—two dead bodies here would draw every investigator within fifty miles. But Silra's proposal was equally problematic; letting these women wake and raise alarm would be just as disastrous for their operation.

Jeane steps forward into the sanctuary, her voice hushed but firm as she addresses Silra's tense back: You're right about one thing—the awake civilian up there is a risk. But murder? In a church of all places? That's… that's beyond what we agreed to. She gestures vaguely between her and the two women upstairs. We can handle this without bloodshed. There has to be another way.

To Halie beside her, her voice urgent now: Can you cast something to make them sleep more deeply? Or create a distraction so we can get closer before they fully wake? She was grasping for solutions that didn't involve violence, but she knew time was running out.