Round 1

[Narrator | Narrator]
The Narrator lets the room settle and lays out the immediate proposition in concrete terms, making clear that the cast must answer what is being asked of them before anything can move forward.

[Jeane | Sorcerer]
Jeane Cromwell's crimson eyes trace the flickering candles, her posture perfect and still. The Time-Splitting Sword? A prize indeed, if we can wrest it from its spectral guardians. But let us be clear—what is our exact contract here? What does this village offer for such a perilous retrieval? Gold, yes, but I require something more... Her voice trails off suggestively before sharpening. And what assurance do we have that these woods do not harbor other hunters, less scrupulous than ourselves?

[Halie | Cleric]
I won't go in blindly. Halie's eyes move from face to face around the table. We need full details: how many are inside, what kind of magic we're facing—specifically dark versus arcane—and a clear escape plan. And I want to know our payment terms before we even consider stepping foot into those woods. My faith doesn't pay for broken promises or cheap coin after we've risked everything.

[Merrin | Rogue]
Fidgets with the lockpicks in her pocket. The Time-Splitting Sword, eh? That's a mouthful. Sounds like a right pain to retrieve, too. Glances around the table, eyes narrowing. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but what exactly are we up against here? Skeletons and shadows demons... Shudders. I've faced my share of undead, but these dark sorcerers sound like a whole different kettle of fish. What's the plan to keep us from becoming another set of bones in their trophy case?

[Seraphine | Wizard]
I lean forward, my fingertips tracing the rough-hewn stone of the table, the chill seeping into my skin a stark contrast to the warmth of the candlelight. The Time-Splitting Sword is no mere trinket, its power could unravel the very threads of reality if wielded by the wrong hands. My gaze sweeps across the faces of my companions, landing on each one for a moment before I continue. This mission is fraught with peril, and not just from the undead or dark sorcerers. We must also consider the cost to our own souls should we fall prey to the temptation of such raw magic. I tap a finger against the map, the parchment rustling softly in the silence. Our contract should include a detailed risk assessment. I need to know exactly what forces we will be facing at every turn. And for my part, I am not interested in mere gold or jewels as payment. Knowledge is my currency; I want access to any and all historical texts related to this tower and its previous occupants.

[Varrika | Fighter]
Stands up slowly, the heavy mace at her side clinking against the stone floor. I've heard enough. Her gravel-edged voice cuts through the candlelit room. This tower's a death trap waiting to happen. Undead, dark sorcerers... sounds like a recipe for getting ourselves killed.