Round 7 Transcript

The ash tasted of rot and old stone as I moved low over the ground, stick tracing careful paths around the pressure plate’s glow. The dust was thick here—too thick in some places—and my eyes caught subtle breaks where foot traffic had disturbed it more than the wind alone could explain. Those were the zones that worried me most: not the obvious plate, but the spaces around it where something might be waiting to react to pressure from a different angle. I marked three possible triggers with tiny scratches—one near the plate’s edge seemed likely—and finished my circuit without disturbing anything further. The ash remained undisturbed except for those marks.

I signal Silra to mark a path around the pressure plate using visible but removable markers—quick scratches or small stones placed carefully—and my hand drifts toward components for a counter-spell, ready in case the plate activates unexpectedly and needs immediate suppression rather than full disarming. My eyes track her movements with cold calculation: trust the elf's precision, but be prepared to unleash silver smoke if the dead city decides otherwise. Mark it clear, I murmur so only she can hear, wide margin.