Round 20 Transcript

The duplicate that reached toward Jeane suddenly splits apart like a dropped doll, its body collapsing into countless small pieces that clatter across the stone floor. The remaining duplicate staggers back, clutching at its chest where a dark sigil now glows with ominous light. "You dare attack us through our own vessels?!" it shouts, voice cracking with pain and fury.*

Jeane stands ready, wings mantled wide as she maintains the binding spell on Halie while keeping both hands free for combat magic. She smirks coldly at the wounded duplicate’s reaction. I told you — cheap intimidation won't work here. Those bodies were nothing but meat puppets; their destruction means nothing compared to whatever entity animates them. The duplicate clutches its chest tighter, dropping to one knee as the sigil pulses with each labored breath. "You think this is pain? We are beyond flesh!" Its form begins to blur and shift, becoming less defined by the second.

Jeane’s smirk doesn’t falter despite the entity's words — she remains focused on maintaining multiple spells simultaneously. Oh please. Every being has a physical anchor somewhere, even ethereal entities like yourself. And it seems I've found yours. The sigil on its chest flares brighter, casting stark light across the basement as the duplicate screams in what sounds like both pain and rage. “You will not—" Its words cut off abruptly as the sigil explodes outward in a wave of dark energy that ripples through the room.

Jeane grits her teeth against the backlash but stands firm, wings beating once to create a small vortex around herself that deflects most of the energy. She calls out over her shoulder toward Silra and Abby as they re-enter the ritual chamber. Get behind Hera’s barrier! Now! The explosion dissipates quickly, leaving the basement filled with swirling shadows that writhe like disturbed ink. In their center, where both duplicates once stood, a new form begins to coalesce — massive, amorphous, and utterly wrong in shape compared to any normal human anatomy.

Jeane lowers her stance slightly, hands raised in readiness as she faces this new threat directly. Well, well. At least you’re finally showing your true form instead of hiding behind cheap copies. The newly manifested entity speaks with a voice like grinding stone mixed with wet paper, “You have made a grave mistake, little sorcerer." Its body pulses with an oily darkness that seems to devour what little light remains in the basement. "Now you and your entire pathetic cult will learn true fear.”

Jeane's wings flare wide again as she responds coldly, Fear? Oh no — now we learn who needs protection from whom.

Silra drags Abby into the ritual chamber by her collar, shoving her toward Hera’s barrier before turning back to the main room. "Jeane," she calls out sharply, teal eyes scanning the shifting darkness where their sister faces off against whatever monstrosity has manifested. "We need to fall back and reassess — that thing is clearly way beyond what we can handle here in this exposed position." She draws her small blade again, holding it ready while moving to flank Jeane's left. "If you keep engaging directly, it'll just keep escalating until either Hera gets caught up or the authorities decide to investigate whatever hellish racket you're making down here. We need a tactical retreat so we can regroup with actual resources and planning." Her pointed ears twitch as she listens for any movement upstairs. "The whole city's right above us — one wrong move and we all end up explaining this mess to cops who won't give a damn about 'sacred rituals' or 'ancient evils'. Let’s get out now before things spiral completely out of control."

Jeane's wings beat steadily in the oppressive darkness, maintaining her position between the monstrosity and the ritual chamber where Silra and Abby have taken shelter. A retreat? Her voice drips with barely-contained scorn. You want me to run from this... thing? To abandon the very foundation of our cult because you're suddenly squeamish about a little noise attracting attention? She turns her crimson gaze toward Silra, dark energy crackling between her fingers. We've come too far, sacrificed too much, to cower in the shadows now. This abomination thinks it can threaten us in our own sacred space? Jeane's laugh echoes with manic edge. I'll show it what happens when you kick a hornet's nest of dedicated practitioners. She begins weaving complex sigils in the air between them, her movements fluid and precise despite the oily darkness that seems to resist her magic's intrusion. Besides, did you miss the part where Hera is still bound in the middle of all this? I can't simply abandon that ritual — it requires constant channeling or everything we've built collapses. The sigils she's weaving solidify into a shimmering barrier that slowly expands outward from her position. And what makes you think the authorities wouldn't already be suspicious if they heard 'sacred rituals' and 'ancient evils'? We're not amateurs playing dungeons and dragons here, Silra.