Round 6 Transcript

I trace the shifting floor with a finger. If something's digging up from below, it wasn't invited for tea. I glance at Hale, noting her grip on the unholy symbol. And if you command the stone to stop, we might find out what Renn was really running from—either it obeys, or whatever's down there gets annoyed enough to break through anyway. I move toward a section of wall that looks newer than the rest. These stones were reset recently. Not by masons—someone trying to cover tracks. Using my rogue tools, I start prying at the mortar. We need to know what sleeps down there before it decides to wake up fully. Knowledge is leverage, and right now we have none. My tools scrape against stone as I work. Either we let it dig itself out and deal with whatever emerges, or we take the initiative and find out if it's a threat worth silencing permanently. Your patron can command stone all day, but if there's something ancient and angry under this church, faith alone won't stop its claws. The mortar crumbles away. I'm opening this before it opens for us.

I feel it too—something ancient and hungry clawing its way up from below. My unholy symbol pulses faster now, a living heat against my palm as if it wants to be used. Sister Hale, I hear your caution, but this church remembers its purpose. It remembers flesh and blood sacrifices on that altar. And whatever sleeps beneath us? It probably remembers too. I step closer to the shifting floorboards, my voice low and measured. If we let fear dictate our actions now, we lose before we even begin. We need to know what's down there—is it a threat to be exterminated, or an asset to be... recruited? With deliberate care, I trace a sigil of binding in the air using my free hand—a gesture that requires no verbal component but focuses my intent. Let me try something subtle first. If this fails, then we command the stone to hold and brace ourselves for whatever claws its way out. The sigil hangs glowing in the air between us and the shifting floor, a web of shadowy lines that pulse with dark magic. Stay alert, both of you. Whatever happens next—whatever emerges from beneath us—I need you ready to move on my signal.

I stand there for a moment, feeling the stone shift beneath my boots—the floor breathing like an animal waking from long slumber—and I realize what they're both saying is true. If this church remembers its purpose, then so do we. My grip tightens on the unholy symbol until the edges bite into my palm, drawing a thin line of blood that wells dark and red against the blackened metal. We came here for power, yes. To rebuild what was lost. But not like this—not by summoning whatever ancient horror slept beneath us. I take one step back from the shifting floorboards, and in my mind I see all the ways this could go wrong: the city guard hearing the commotion, old church traps activated by Silra's rogue curiosity, or worse—whatever is digging its way up decides we're a threat. We need to seal that excavation. Now. With a swift motion, I uncoil thirty feet of our rope and drive one end hard into a crack between floor stones where the shifting seems most active—I'm not strong enough to actually plug it, but maybe I can disrupt whatever's causing it. Help me stabilize this! If we can slow it down, we can think—Jeane, your sorcery might be able to help. Silra, find something heavy to weigh down the rope! The stone groans beneath my hands as I push against the excavation point, feeling the cold, unyielding pressure from below. In the name of our patron and all that is holy—I command this earth to still! I pour every ounce of faith into my voice, channeling divine authority through the unholy symbol until its edges begin to glow with an eerie light.

The rope creaks as I pull it taut, creating friction against the stone. Whatever you're planning—do it fast. Because if that thing gets through before we're ready...