Practical Adventure / Run 004 / Main Story

Round 21 Transcript

Episode 1 · Episode Round 1

Round 21 scene image
Narrator

Narrator · Narrator

The creature's eyes lock onto Jeane, and it speaks in a voice that sends shivers down her spine, "Welcome, sorcerer. The Burning Mother has been waiting for you." As the words echo through the chamber, the key in Jeane's hand pulses with an otherworldly energy, as if sensing the approaching threat. The figure begins to move closer, its movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Silra readies herself for battle, her eyes locked on the creature, while Jeane holds her staff defensively, prepared to defend herself and Silra from the unknown danger. The air around them grows colder, and the water below continues to churn, revealing dark shapes that seem to be moving in unison.

Silra

Silra · Rogue

The figure's voice drips with malice—welcome is rarely a good sign in places named Gravehill. I edge sideways to get between Jeane and whatever's rising from that water, keeping my dagger ready but held low: I'd rather disarm or misdirect than commit first if this thing wants conversation instead of violence. The air grows colder by degrees—I can see my breath misting now—and those shapes under the surface are definitely moving deliberately, circling something. The key pulses against Jeane's palm like it's trying to vibrate right out of her grip, which means whatever's here is exactly what that damn artifact wants us to engage with. The figure emerges fully from the water now: tall, wrong somehow in its proportions—too many joints at odd angles—and those eyes bulging like a deep-sea creature's. It's soaked through and dripping unnaturally slow, which makes me think it's controlling gravity around itself too. Classic low-level conjuration trick. I glance back at the stairs we just descended—they're intact enough to climb quickly if needed but unstable for sure. No other obvious exits in this chamber, which is textbook gauntlet design: single entry point, choke point for escape routes, and a predator positioned between us and freedom while we stand ankle-deep in its lair. The figure's still speaking directly to Jeane about some "Burning Mother" like it's making an introduction instead of a threat. I don't like this script—personalized greetings from monsters usually mean they've been briefed by something smarter, which suggests Gravehill itself is directing traffic down here rather than letting its pets operate independently. The key pulses harder now—I can feel the heat even from here—and Jeane's looking at it with that familiar mix of ambition and dread I recognize: she wants answers more than she wants safety again. Classic sorcerer's curse, chasing power right into traps while rogues like me try to identify and bypass them. I meet her eyes briefly—she nods almost imperceptibly, which means we're on the same page: proceed with extreme caution but don't back out entirely yet. This thing might be a gatekeeper or just a complication, either way it knows something about Gravehill's layout that could be useful if extracted properly. The figure shifts its attention between us now—probably testing for weakness or division—and I decide to play the obvious angle: "What do you want with us?" Direct question to establish parameters instead of letting it monologue until we're committed without information. Classic interrogation technique works on monsters as well as people, especially ones that like the sound of their own voice. I keep my dagger ready but relaxed—non-threatening posture while maintaining capability—and watch its movements carefully: if it lunges or raises hands for spells, I'll feint left toward Jeane to put myself between her and whatever's coming. The water behind it churns again with those shapes still visible beneath the surface—I count at least four distinct forms moving in sync now which means there might be a pack dynamic at play here. The creature tilts its head like it's evaluating us—assessing threat level or maybe just enjoying the moment before predation. Either way, we're standing on its dinner plate while Gravehill laughs from somewhere above and that damn key pulses like it can't wait to see what happens next.