Round 9 Transcript

Silra’s blade slices cleanly through the oiled section of the rope. The sudden cut releases a hidden spring in the stone, and a burst of hot vapor shoots up the rope, searing the fibers and leaving a faint, acrid smell in the air.

I watch the black oil ooze across the stone with the kind of cold patience I reserve for things that want me dead. This isn't 'just a little structural damage,' Renn—this is a trap designed by someone with more ambition than sense and less respect for human life than a starving ghoul. My hand goes to my dagger, fingers curling around the hilt. Jeane's right: it's unnatural. And you're too damned jumpy about something specific down there. I lean over the edge again, ignoring the way the air burns my lungs. Let me see that rope. I want another look at where it was cut—something tells me we missed a detail when we were all distracted by Hale channeling her inner prophet.

I step closer to the chasm edge, my unholy symbol glinting in the lantern light. This isn't an accident—someone wanted this path blocked. I glance at Renn cowering by a rock, then back to the molten pit. Gravedigger, your information was accurate enough to lead us here. Now you're going to tell me who benefits from keeping this road impassable. I draw my sorcery with a sharp gesture—shadows curl around my fingers—and let it pool in my palm as I address him directly. The city guard patrols at dawn and dusk, correct? How many soldiers are we dealing with? My voice is calm but leaves no room for hesitation. Details matter. Give them to me now, before the sun rises and we have company. [I am attempting to extract specific intelligence under pressure while demonstrating magical authority to intimidate an informant into speaking truthfully about our immediate threat—dawn patrol timing.]