Round 13 Transcript

The figure's hooded face slowly rises from its gaze on the pillar, its pale skin seeming to glow with an otherworldly energy. As it turns to face the party, a cold breeze stirs the air, extinguishing the torches and leaving only flickering shadows. "I am Elric, The Hermit," the figure says in a voice that sends shivers down Varrika's spine. "And you have breached the sanctum of the Whispering Tower." Elric raises a hand, and the runes on the pillar begin to glow with an eerie blue light, illuminating the chamber and casting long shadows across the floor.

Fine, the system's offline again. This is why I hate magic-dependent tools in non-magic environments. I feel a trickle of ambient corruption seep through my defenses—I'm leaking arcane energy like a sieve trying to hold back the tide—but it's not immediate disaster. Yet. The gate rumbles—skeletons are still throwing themselves against it, and it's definitely weakening faster now with the extra weight. I need that door open before we're trapped between two problems. "Merrin!" I snap, wings beating hard to stay hovering despite the vertigo from corruption backlash. "Tell me you've got something in there—anything—that can get us through without triggering more structural collapse! The gate's not holding much longer!"

I shift my weight, trying to redistribute the strain across the rune's vertices while maintaining integrity. If this inverse collapses completely, we'll lose our shield and those skeletons will flood in. I'm already feeling the ambient magic here corrupting my spellwork—it's like trying to cast fireballs with wet kindling. I glance at Varrika facing down the mysterious hooded figure—I recognize her stance, ready for immediate combat—and Halie creating a new holy symbol. At least some of us are doing productive things. I need something that can buy time or create an alternative exit before we're trapped between two kinds of death.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart as I look at the hooded figure before us. Elric, The Hermit. I repeat the name, as if speaking it aloud will somehow make this surreal situation more real. We mean no disrespect to your sanctum. We are simply seeking a way out of this tower, away from the skeletons and the collapsing structure above. My eyes dart to the runes on the pillar, then back to Elric's shadowed face. Can you help us? I ask, my voice trembling slightly with a blend of hope and fear. We don't want any trouble, we just want to survive this place. I glance at the others—Varrika's mace raised defensively, Halie's frantic work on a new holy symbol, Seraphine's staff glowing weakly in her hands—and I feel a sudden rush of affection and protectiveness for my companions. We'll do whatever you ask, just please... help us. I take a step forward, my hand reaching out as if to touch Elric's cloak. I know we've breached your sanctum, but we had no choice. The tower was collapsing around us, the skeletons were attacking, and we couldn't go back. My voice softens, becomes almost pleading. We're just trying to survive, Elric. Please... tell us what we need to do to get out of here alive. I glance back at the stairs we descended from, wondering if Jeane is still holding the gate against the horde of undead. And my friend up there, she's fighting to keep a door closed so we can all escape. I turn back to Elric, my eyes wide and imploring. We're not trying to steal anything or cause trouble. We just need a way out. Please... help us.

I watch Varrika move into a protective stance between us and this mysterious figure called Elric, her mace raised. The air in the chamber feels thicker, charged with an energy that makes my skin prickle. My staff feels heavy in my hand, its usual glow seeming dimmer in the presence of these ancient runes. Merrin's plea for help catches my attention, her voice a desperate whisper against the oppressive silence of the chamber.
My mind races as I try to process what we're facing here. A hermit guardian of some kind? But why would someone be protecting this crumbling death trap? And what does he have to do with the source of all this dark magic we've been fighting?
I turn my gaze to the massive stone pillar in the center of the room, its surface covered in swirling patterns that seem to shift and change before my eyes. The runes... they're not just decoration. They're active. And if they're what's fueling this tower's defenses—and the undead horde above—then maybe...
I take a step forward, my free hand outstretched as if to touch the pillar. I know it’s a risk, but right now, every instinct is screaming that understanding this magic is our only way out of here.
This isn't just some abandoned ruin. It was built for a purpose, and those purposes are still active. We need to understand them better. The skeletons, the tower's collapse, the dark energy... they're all pieces of some larger whole we haven't seen yet. And if this Elric knows how to control it...
I look back at Merrin, then at Halie as she works frantically on her new holy symbol. They're right. We’re out of options here. We have to try something different.
Elric, you say you guard the sanctum of this tower? I ask, my voice steady despite the fear coiling in my stomach. But what does that mean? What is the purpose of all this magic? Why is it destroying itself? My eyes dart back to the pillar, then to the figure before me. If we want to leave... to survive... don’t we need to understand it first? I feel a sudden rush of cold understanding. The tower isn't just attacking us—it’s collapsing because its purpose has been forgotten. Or perhaps because the people who built it are long gone and their magic is unraveling without their will to maintain it. And if that's true, then maybe...
Maybe we can reset it. Change its purpose. Give it a new reason to be strong instead of falling apart. It’s a desperate thought, but right now, desperation might be our only friend. The runes on the pillar seem to pulse in time with my racing heart. I take another step closer, my staff held out like a shield against the magic that threatens to overwhelm me.
I can feel the strain of Jeane's spellwork above us, the echo of her wings beating frantically against the gate. We don’t have much time left before we’re trapped or overrun. Whatever choice we make has to be made now.

The runes on the pillar pulse with ancient power, each beat like a hammer striking my faith. I drop the cloth symbol I was trying to make—the corruption here is too strong for makeshift holy symbols anyway. A new idea forms, desperate and maybe foolish: what if this whole tower is just... broken? Its magic unraveling because its purpose was forgotten? I stand and face Elric directly. "We don't seek to steal from your sanctum," I say, my voice measured but urgent. "But we're drowning in skeletons, the walls are coming down around us, and this tower is killing itself with dark magic. You said you guard it—can't you see it's falling apart? Maybe... maybe we can help reset its purpose?" I step forward, not as a challenge but as a plea. My eyes flick to Merrin's pleading stance, Varrika's raised mace, and Seraphine's focused examination of the runes. We're out of good options here. If this tower is built on forgotten magic, maybe we can change its purpose from death to... something else. I need specifics though—what does that even mean in practice? The answer isn't clear yet. I pull out my map, the partial drawing rumored inaccurate but better than nothing. "If you won't help us," I ask Elric carefully, "at least tell us which way leads deeper into the tower—the opposite direction from those skeletons and the collapsing roof. We need to survive this place, and if that means finding its heart and fixing whatever's wrong... well, maybe that's what we're meant to do." I'm not just stalling—I genuinely think this might be our only option. The air grows heavier, the runes brighter. I feel the strain of magic pressing in on all sides, but also a flicker of possibility. We have to try something different or die trying. This isn't about being heroic—it's about pragmatic survival. If Elric won't answer, maybe we'll need to search this level ourselves, find the tower's center... I should probably stop talking and start doing.

I watch as Halie steps forward, her voice steady despite the fear that hangs in the air. She's right—this tower is falling apart, its magic unraveling because its purpose has been forgotten. And if we want to survive this place, we might need to change that purpose ourselves.

I glance at Merrin, her face etched with desperation as she pleads for help. At Seraphine, her staff glowing weakly in the presence of these ancient runes. At Jeane, still fighting to hold the gate against the horde of undead above. We're all on edge, our nerves frayed by the constant danger and the oppressive atmosphere of the tower. But we have each other's backs, and that's what matters.

I turn back to Elric, my mace still raised in a defensive stance. You say you guard this sanctum, I say, my voice rough with exhaustion but steady. But can't you see it's falling apart? The skeletons, the collapsing walls, the dark magic that's consuming everything... I gesture with my free hand to the runes on the pillar, their light pulsing in time with my racing heart.

Maybe we can help reset its purpose, I continue, echoing Halie's words. Give it a new reason to be strong instead of falling apart. I look at the map in Halie's hands, the partial drawing rumored to be inaccurate. If you won't help us, at least tell us which way leads deeper into the tower—the opposite direction from those skeletons and the collapsing roof. My eyes flick to the stairs we descended from, wondering if Jeane is still holding the gate. We need to survive this place, and if that means finding its heart and fixing whatever's wrong... well, maybe that's what we're meant to do. I take a step forward, my mace still raised but not in a threatening way. More like a barrier between us and Elric, ready to defend my companions if necessary. We're not trying to steal anything or cause trouble, I say, my voice softening slightly. We just need a way out of here. A chance to survive. But deep down, I know that's not entirely true. Something about this place has gotten under my skin, a sense of ancient power and forgotten purpose that makes me want to understand it, even as it terrifies me. And maybe... maybe helping the tower find its purpose again is our only chance at survival.*

I look at Elric, waiting for his response. My heart pounds in my chest, the runes on the pillar pulsing in time with my racing thoughts. We're out of options here. Whatever choice we make has to be made now.