Round 93 Transcript

As I exit the shrine, Sister Hale approaches me, her expression thoughtful. "We need to adjust our plan," she says, her hand still holding the symbol of her faith. "Whatever is buried down there isn't just reacting now, it's... hungry." She glances around cautiously before adding, "I can sense its presence, a dark tide that's growing stronger by the minute. We can't just walk into Gravehill, not with that thing stirring beneath our feet."

I nod in agreement, my mind racing with the implications. "We need to find a safe place to regroup and reassess our strategy," I say, scanning the surrounding area for any signs of danger. The air seems heavy with anticipation, and I can feel the weight of whatever is buried down there pressing against the earth above us. Suddenly, a faint rumbling sound echoes through the streets, growing louder by the second. It's as if the ground itself is awakening from its slumber, and I know that time is running out. Do we:
A) Rush to find a secure location to regroup
B) Try to gather more information about whatever is stirring beneath Gravehill
C) Prepare for immediate confrontation with the emerging threat

I feel it before I see it—the plates lurching upward in defiance of the rhythm we'd maintained for so long—and whatever is buried down there has just made its decision. Whatever was deliberating about our Intent has been replaced by pure kinetic force, and now we're off balance on shifting ground while Gravedigger Renn goes perfectly still like a broken doll. The plates pulse wildly under my feet—THRUM-THRUM-THUD-THUD-THUD—and I know whatever is down there isn't breaking formation anymore because it's decided we're no longer players in this game. We're just; prey now. The runes flare brighter around us as if feeding on the sudden violence of the shift, and I see Sister Hale reach for her dagger with a cleric's instinct to protect even when she knows blades won't save us from whatever ancient wrongness is trying to surface. I speak across the plates without thinking about it. "Gravedigger just; died—look at his legs!" And it's true—they're not trembling anymore, they're ; still. He fell because he stopped being able to fall, and now we're standing on pressure plates that used to be a test but are now just ; trap doors.

The ground gives another violent shudder, and I feel the tunnel walls beginning to close in like a tightening fist. Whatever is buried down there isn't just evaluating us anymore—it's; ascending. The runes pulse hungrily around us as if hungry for more than just fear-smell now, and I realize we're not escaping this by walking away slowly or maintaining perfect formation. We're escaping this by running like hell before whatever is down there finishes surfacing and decides to crush us along with the collapsing tunnel. The plates continue their wild vibration—THRUM-THRUM-THUD-THUD-THUD—and I see Sister Hale's hand still on her dagger hilt, her eyes wide but not panicked. She gets it too—the moment has passed where clever offers or symbolic gestures matter. I speak again across the plates, sharper this time. "Sister—whatever you were trying to do with that symbol just; failed. Whatever is buried down there doesn't give a shit about our respect anymore because it's not buried anymore." The runes flare even brighter in response, and I feel the pressure of something ancient and massive pushing against the earth above us. The ground trembles again—THRUM-THRUM-THUD-THUD-THUD—and I know we have seconds left before this entire tunnel collapses. "Move now!" I shout across the plates as I launch myself forward, rolling off my pressure plate and onto solid ground just as the one beneath me erupts in a shower of stone and metal. Whatever is buried down there has decided to take its time surfacing through sheer force instead of patience, and now the plates themselves are becoming weapons. I spring back to my feet and grab Sister Hale's arm, pulling her off her own plate just as it begins to lurch upward with mechanical precision. Come on—this thing isn't waiting for us to be polite anymore!" The runes around what's left of the plates pulse hungrily—THRUM-THRUM-THUD-THUD-THUD—and I see Gravedigger Renn's body still kneeling there, perfectly still like a statue caught mid-collapsing. The tunnel walls groan ominously as they close in another inch, and whatever is buried down there roars its ascent into the world above—a sound like grinding stone mixed with tearing metal. We need to run—now!" I pull Sister Hale along behind me as we sprint through the collapsing passage, the ground heaving and buckling under our feet. The runes fade behind us as we escape whatever ancient wrongness has decided this is its moment to rise. We burst out of the tunnel entrance just as the entire structure collapses in on itself with a sound like the world ending, sending up a cloud of dust and debris that chokes the air around us. Fucking hell," I gasp, wiping sweat from my eyes and looking back at what used to be a careful system of pressure plates. Now it's just ; ruins. Whatever is buried down there has decided to take its time surfacing through sheer force instead of patience, and now the plates themselves are becoming weapons.

I speak across our channel quickly: "Silra—I felt it too." The pressure beneath us changed—whatever was listening decided we were no longer ; worthy. That thing wasn't just reacting to Gravedigger's terror-smell; it was measuring our Intent through the plates, deciding if we had ; purity or ; prey. I can still feel its attention pulling away from us as whatever is buried down there shifts focus to something more... substantial. Whatever is buried down there isn't just reacting—it's judging and choosing now. I try to maintain my composure despite the adrenaline surging through me. "It wasn't a simple test," I explain, my voice tight but controlled. "Those plates weren't designed for failure—they were designed to ascend whatever passed correctly." The runes pulsed with agreement when we offered respect—it responded because our Intent was ; true enough. But now... Whatever is buried down there has decided we're not ; pure enough to survive its judgment. I glance back at the collapsing tunnel, my mind racing. "We need to move—quickly—but whatever that thing is, it's ; awakening.* We should have tried a different approach."

I reach for my symbol again, though I know it won't help against ancient wrongness that emerges from beneath the earth itself. Whatever is buried down there isn't just listening anymore—it's deciding whether to crush us or let us go. And right now, its decision leans toward ; crushing.