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]
I lean back in my chair, steepling my fingers with deliberate slowness. The candlelight plays across the heavy silver rings on my fingers—gifts earned through service to patrons whose names are now ash. "The Time-Splitting Sword." I taste the words like old wine. Powerful enough to tear time itself apart? Or perhaps simply powerful enough to make its wielder believe they can. Success means wealth, certainly—a fortune that could fund my own work for years—but more importantly, it breaks the tower's stranglehold on this region. The accursed place festers like a wound, corrupting everything around it. Failure... well, I have faced death before and found it less than impressive.

[Halie | Cleric]
I close my eyes briefly, offering a silent prayer to the Goddess of Light for guidance and protection. When I open them again, my gaze is steady. "I understand the necessity—the tower is a blight on these lands—but we're speaking of facing the undead and potentially demons themselves. Our skills are many, but infinite life and unholy power are not among them." I look around the table. "What exactly does 'retrieve' mean? A quick snatch-and-grab from a dusty shelf? Or a battle through hordes of the damned to wrest it from the clutches of beings who've had centuries to fortify their defenses?" My hand tightens slightly on my holy symbol. "And what happens if we fail? The villagers speak of those who have tried and never returned—what became of them, their bodies, their souls?" I won't commit lightly to a venture where the price might be eternal damnation for all of us.

[Merrin | Rogue]
Merrin shifts uncomfortably in her chair, the rough wood pressing against her back through the worn fabric of her tunic. She glances around the table at the other adventurers, noting the varied expressions of apprehension, curiosity, and grim determination. Her eyes linger on the flickering candle flames, their light dancing across the weathered map spread before them like a promise or a threat, depending on the hour.

[Seraphine | Wizard]
I push my chair back slightly, the wooden legs scraping softly against the stone floor as I lean forward, my elbows finding purchase on the cold surface of the table. The Time-Splitting Sword... a mythical artifact indeed. To think it exists at all is chilling. But to imagine what its power might do in the wrong hands? I shiver, though not entirely from the draft that sneaks through the cracked stones of this ruin. We know so little of what truly waits within those walls. The rumors speak of skeletons, yes, but they also whisper of shadow demons and dark sorcerers who have had centuries to perfect their craft. I look up, meeting the eyes of each person around the table in turn. Before we commit to this... this folly, I need to understand what we're truly facing. The risks are immense, both for our bodies and our souls. What can we hope to achieve that would justify such peril?

[Varrika | Fighter]
I scowl, my battle-scarred hands balled into fists on the rough-hewn table. The Whispering Woods... aye, I know that accursed place. Walked through it once before, as a young dwarf eager to prove myself. Lost good soldiers in those trees, torn apart by horrors I couldn't even name. I shake my head, the memories still bitter on my tongue.