Round 9 Transcript

I'm about to take another step forward when I hear movement behind me. Clarice has followed me around the corner despite my instructions. "What's happening back there?" she asks, her voice trembling but curious. "Who is that woman? Why is she... floating?"

I spin around, grabbing her arm and pulling her back into the shadows. "Shut up," I hiss, "and stay quiet. This isn't something you need to see."

But it's too late—Clarice has already caught a glimpse of Jeane's display. Her eyes are wide with a combination of fear and morbid curiosity. "That woman is using magic," she breathes, "actual magic. I've never seen anything like—"

"Enough!" I cut her off sharply. "You don't understand what you're dealing with here. This isn't some street performance—this is dangerous and real."

Clarice's gaze shifts from the scene behind us to my face, a new calculation in her expression. "Dangerous for who?" she asks, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "For that woman? Or for all of us?"

Before I can respond, the church door creaks open further. Halie steps out, her eyes scanning the scene with alarm. "Silra? What's going on out here? I heard shouting—"

I raise a hand to silence her, but it's too late. Clarice's head snaps toward the new voice, and I see the gears turning in her mind. "Wait," she says slowly, "there are more of you? An entire group using magic? What kind of cult are you running here?"

Shit—this is exactly what we didn't need. Not only have we got Jeane losing control, but now our potential recruit is piecing together way too much information far too quickly. I need to regain control of this situation before it completely spirals out of hand.

Behind us, Halie approaches cautiously. "Silra?" she repeats, "What's happening? Who is this?"

I don't have time to explain everything. I need to make a call—intervene with Jeane and risk getting caught up in her magic, or deal with Clarice and hope Jeane doesn't escalate further.

I step out of the church proper, drawn by the sound of raised voices and the palpable tension in the air outside. My eyes adjust from the dim interior lighting to see Jeane has Hera suspended midair, dark tendrils of magic coiling around her limbs like a grotesque embrace. The sight makes my stomach churn—I've seen Jeane's power before, but never directed with such obvious malice at one of our own. Hera is clearly terrified, whimpering softly as the magical bonds tighten. I can feel the fear radiating from her even from where I stand. My feet carry me forward without conscious thought, my cleric training kicking in despite the absurdity of the situation. "Jeane," I say, keeping my voice calm but firm, "this isn't the way. We don't hurt our own."

She doesn't respond immediately, too focused on Hera to acknowledge me. The magic pulses around her victim with every beat of Jeane's anger. I take a hesitant step closer, conflicted by my desire to help and fear of getting caught up in whatever dark power she's unleashed. "Please," I try again, "let her go. Whatever this is about, we can talk it through. You don't need to—"

My words die on my lips as Jeane whips around to face me, her crimson eyes blazing with barely contained fury. The magical bonds around Hera flicker ominously in response to her master's attention shift. "Stay out of this, Halie," she snarls, her voice like ice. "This doesn't concern you."

But it does concern me—everything about this concerns me deeply. The casual use of dark magic on our own member. The blatant disregard for our safety protocols. The sheer escalation from earlier when Hera expressed doubts to now where we're openly assaulting each other in public. Before I can respond, movement catches my eye behind Jeane. Silra has appeared around the corner, clearly trying to defuse the situation while also dealing with... someone else? In the shadows, I can make out a third figure—a woman I don't recognize. The situation is spiraling out of control on multiple fronts, and I have no idea how to stop it without making things worse. My hands clench at my sides as I struggle to find the right words, the right approach to de-escalate this nightmare scenario. In the background, I can feel Clarice watching with a mix of horror and fascination. The potential recruit who was supposed to join us tonight is now witnessing our darkest moment, and there's nothing I can do to shield her from it. I need to act, but what can I do? Confront Jeane directly and risk getting caught up in her magic? Try to reason with her when she clearly isn't listening? Focus on the unknown woman Silra is dealing with and hope that diverts attention away from this mess? My mind races through possibilities while my body remains frozen in place, caught between my cleric's instinct to help and my survival instincts screaming at me to back away slowly. The tension in the air is so thick I can barely breathe, let alone think clearly. I glance at Hera again—her face is pale and drawn, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gasps for breath between whimpers. Every second that passes feels like an eternity, each pulse of Jeane's magic a reminder of how close we are to permanent damage, or worse. I have to do something. But what? Immediate intent: I need to intervene somehow without triggering Jeane further or getting hurt myself. My cleric powers might be able to counteract this magic if I can get close enough, but that means walking right into the heart of her power. Emotional reaction: Fear and anger war within me—fear for Hera's safety and our exposure, anger at Jeane's recklessness and abandonment of our carefully constructed rules. Proposed action: I'll try to approach slowly, speaking calmly and authoritatively as a cleric might to someone in distress. If I can frame this as a spiritual crisis rather than a personal conflict, maybe I can appeal to whatever remains of her conscience. Disagreement with the party: There is none—this situation requires immediate intervention regardless of personal feelings or previous disagreements.

Fuck. I glance between Jeane's power display and the unknown civilian Silra's trying to manage around the corner. This is a clusterfuck in the making. Halie's out now too, looking like she wants to vomit or scream—neither of which would help our situation. "Jeane," she pleads, "let her go. We can talk this through."

But Jeane's not listening. Her eyes are fixed on Hera with that terrifying intensity, dark tendrils tightening their grip. "Stay out of this, Halie." Her voice is cold enough to freeze water.

Behind me, Clarice shifts nervously, trying to get a better look past my shoulder. "What the hell is going on?" she hisses. "Who's that woman?"

I don't have time to explain everything, so I keep it short and brutal: "That's our leader," I mutter, "and she just lost her mind. We need to stop this before someone calls the cops—or worse."

Clarice's eyes widen with fear and morbid curiosity. "Cops? You mean... real magic?" Her gaze darts between me and the scene unfolding behind us. "What kind of cult are you running here?"

Before I can respond, Halie speaks up again: "Silra? What's happening? Who is this?"

*Shit—I need to make a decision. Intervene with Jeane and risk getting caught up in her magic, or deal with Clarice and hope Jeane doesn't escalate further.**

Immediate intent: I'm going to pull Clarice back around the corner and get her out of here before she witnesses everything. Then I'll try to talk Jeane down from this ledge—though I have no idea how. Emotional reaction: Cold fury mixed with genuine concern for Hera. How fucking dare Jeane do this in public? Proposed action: Get Clarice away, then force my way into Jeane's space and remind her where we are—and what will happen if someone calls the cops on a magical assault. Disagreement with the party: There is none—this situation requires immediate triage, not debate.

I feel a surge of rage as Hera remains silent despite my clear threat. The magic pulses through me, responding to my anger, and I struggle to maintain control in the face of her defiance. My wings flex involuntarily as I lean in closer, crimson eyes burning with fury. "You have two choices," I hiss, "either you tell me everything—how much you know, where you got your information, who sent you—or I will make sure you never leave this church again. And trust me when I say, death would be a mercy compared to what I'm capable of."

The dark energy around Hera pulses in time with my words, as if emphasizing the threat. "So start talking," I demand, "or this ends now."