Round 95 Transcript

Sister Hale's mace crashes down on the creature's exposed flank, its metal head biting deep into the beast's scaly hide. The creature lets out a deafening screech as it staggers backwards, its claws scrabbling wildly at the air. Jeane seizes the momentary reprieve to complete her teleportation incantation, and Sister Hale is suddenly yanked clear of the bridge, landing hard on the rocky ground below.

Jeane staggers back from the effort of maintaining her teleportation shield around Sister Hale, arcane energies crackling dangerously at her fingertips. Seventeen patterns, my ass—this containment protocol is far more sophisticated than I anticipated. Her crimson eyes narrow as she assesses the situation downstream where the ground still shudders with unseen activity.

I should have known better than to trust that rusted key would unlock everything so easily. She clenches her fist around the burning metal, feeling its heat intensify. Whatever's underneath this bridge isn't just some mindless guardian—it's coordinating multiple layers of defense, and we've apparently triggered a failsafe. Jeane's gaze shifts between Sister Hale's safe landing spot downstream and the dark shape still visible on the bridge upstream. We need to move now before whatever command center I targeted has time to regroup or reinforce. The quarantine system is likely already alerted by that teleportation flare, which means city guard won't be far behind. She begins gathering arcane energy around her free hand, preparing a more direct approach than mere misdirection. Sister Hale—you alive down there? Good. We've got maybe three minutes before this whole area crawls with whatever passes for law enforcement in a cursed ash-city like this one. I'm coming back upstream to reassess our options—I have a few ideas about how to deal with overcomplicated containment protocols that don't involve playing chicken with seventeen patterns of doom. Jeane starts moving back toward the bridge, her movements fluid despite obvious exhaustion. This situation just got significantly less convenient and far more interesting. Time to remind Gravehill's defenders why you don't mess with a demonic sorceress on a mission to rebuild her church and start a very selective cult of loyal followers. The rusted key pulses hotter in her hand as she approaches the bridge, its energy seeming to respond to her renewed purpose. Let's see how well your containment protocol works against someone who specializes in breaking things others work very hard to keep together.