Round 105 Transcript

The ground rumbles once more, and the party's conversation is interrupted by the sound of splintering wood from the innkeeper's bar. The door bursts open, and a figure stumbles in, drenched and covered in dirt. It's Gravedigger Renn, his eyes wide with terror. "I saw it!" he gasps, collapsing onto a nearby chair. "I followed the tunnel, and whatever was down there... it spoke to me. It said we're not worthy." The ground shudders again, and the runes on the wall pulse with an otherworldly energy.

The sound of splintering wood makes Silra spin around, her hand already on the dagger at her hip. Well now—that's either very good timing or catastrophically bad. She moves toward the innkeeper's bar where Gravedigger Renn has collapsed, her teal eyes sharp and suspicious. Let me guess: you decided to prove your courage by going back down there alone, and whatever is buried down there apparently had... words for you? Her voice drips with sarcasm as she crouches beside the terrified man.

Silra's rogue instincts are on high alert—Renn's terror-smell is even stronger now, almost overwhelming. She glances around the common room quickly, noting exits and potential threats before focusing back on their informant. Out with it then: what exactly did this thing say to you that made you run back up here gasping like a landed fish? And more importantly—her eyes narrow dangerously—did you lead something back through those tunnels after us? She doesn't touch Renn directly—not yet—but her rogue's keen observations note every detail of his physical state: the dirt caked under his fingernails, the fresh scrapes on his palms like he crawled quickly through tight spaces, the way his eyes keep darting toward the cellar door even as he tries to speak. Because if you brought whatever is buried down there up here with us—if you're so terrified that you had to run and might have compromised our escape route—I need to know right fucking now before we all become part of its next meal. Silra's hand tightens on her dagger hilt, but she doesn't draw it yet. Her mind races through possibilities: if Renn panicked and led pursuit, they might have minutes before whatever follows him arrives. If he encountered something alone and survived to tell about it, that suggests either cowardice or incredible luck—neither of which inspires confidence. Talk sense, Gravedigger—I'm not in the mood for terror-stories unless they come with useful information attached. The ground groans again under their feet as if responding to her words. Silra's expression doesn't change, but something flickers behind her teal eyes—a cold calculation of exactly how much time they might have left before whatever Renn encountered decides this common room is worth investigating.

I step closer to Renn, my holy symbol held loosely at my side. You're alive—that's what matters right now. My voice is calm but firm, cutting through the rising panic in the common room. Whatever you encountered down there—whatever it said to you—that doesn't change our situation: we're still here, still armed, and whatever is buried under Gravehill hasn't emerged yet. I glance at Silra by the bar, then back to Renn.*

His terror-smell is almost physical now, thick and cloying. Deep breath—yes, like that. I kneel beside his chair, meeting his eyes directly. You followed the tunnel despite the danger, which means you had courage. That's worth something even if the outcome wasn't what we wanted. My mind races through possibilities: did he lead pursuit? Did he encounter a scout or tendril of whatever is under Gravehill? Or was it just his imagination running wild in the dark? Now tell us exactly what happened—every detail, no matter how small. I place one hand on his shoulder lightly—not to restrain him, but as a gesture of calm presence. Whatever you saw or heard, we need to know: did it speak with words? Was there movement beyond the runes' pulsing? Did you feel pressure increasing—or decreasing—in any specific area? The ground groans again under us as if emphasizing the urgency of his answer.

I'm not trying to dismiss your fear—fear is rational when facing something ancient and powerful. But we need information to act, and right now, you're our best source. Whatever this thing said about us being ; not worthy—that's important too: it suggests judgmental criteria rather than random destruction. I lean back slightly, giving him space while still maintaining proximity. So start at the beginning: when did you decide to go back down? What specific part of the tunnel system did you explore further? And most importantly—what exactly happened that made you run back up here in such a state? The rogue's questions were sharp and suspicious for good reason—if we're in danger because of his actions, I need to know now. But my approach is different: not accusatory, but focused on extracting useful information from someone who's genuinely terrified.

As he speaks—or if he remains unable to articulate clearly—I'll be watching him closely for signs of physical trauma beyond just fear: injuries that might suggest a struggle, dirt patterns that tell where he came into contact with something underground, or any objects he might have picked up or dropped. Whatever is buried down there isn't mindless horror—it's deliberate structure and purpose. And if it spoke to you directly, then we need to understand what kind of entity we're dealing with: does it communicate in full sentences? Does it ask questions? Or was this more... impression than actual speech? I'm not suggesting he's lying or imagining things—I've seen enough to believe in the reality of whatever's under Gravehill. But understanding its communication method matters: if it can articulate complex ideas, that suggests intelligence we need to navigate rather than just fight. So please—my tone is gentle but insistent—tell us what you heard and saw. Every detail could be important for our survival.