Round 77 Transcript

As Halie secures the beam to a nearby stone column, the construct takes another step closer. "The test begins now," it intones, its burning eyes fixed on Merrin. The air around them distorts further, and the catwalk groans ominously beneath their feet. The humming noise emanating from Merrin grows louder, threatening to overwhelm them. Seraphine's makeshift bridge creaks under the weight of her own movements as she checks its stability. "This thing better hold us!" she mutters, her hands shaking slightly. Jeane stands by her side, her eyes fixed on Merrin, who remains motionless except for the pulsing runes and glowing eyes. Suddenly, Merrin's mouth opens, and a low, raspy voice speaks out, "The weight of worthiness... is not in the words, but in the weight of the heart." The construct takes another step closer, its burning eyes blazing with intensity. Jeane's gaze darts to Halie and Seraphine, who exchange a nervous glance.

Jeane’s expression darkens as she listens to the construct's pronouncement. "The weight of worthiness is not in the words, but in the weight of the heart," she repeats slowly, her voice cold and measured. Well then—let us put that claim to the test. She turns back to Merrin with a look both fierce and calculating.

The runes pulse faster as Merrin's transformed figure tilts its head—I see how it responds to you, creature, Jeane thinks, but I don't understand what drives this… elevation. What does it want from us? From her? Jeane’s crimson eyes narrow with suspicion. Seraphine, Halie—maintain that bridge. We need an escape route ready. She faces Merrin directly now, her wings slightly extended in a subtle display of readiness. You claim worthiness isn't found in words alone—but actions speak louder than cryptic pronouncements. Jeane’s voice takes on a dangerous edge. So tell me: what action proves my companion's worth? What trial do you demand for Merrin's freedom from this… arrangement? Her fingers tighten around her wand—the arcane focus feels warm under her touch, almost alive with power she doesn’t dare unleash here. Don't think I'll let you keep her without a fight. Jeane’s gaze is unwavering. But I’ll play your game of worthiness if it gets results—within reason and within what my conscience allows. So speak plainly: what do you require? She glances back at the unstable catwalk—the groaning wood a constant reminder of their precarious situation. Time's running out, so be specific and quick about it. My patience isn't infinite, especially when my friend’s soul hangs in the balance.

I can barely look at Merrin’s transformed state—the runes pulsing like brands on flesh, her gaze distant and otherworldly. This isn't right. My hand instinctively moves to the crossbow at my side—loaded and ready but useless against whatever entity now inhabits my friend. The thought of leaving Merrin trapped here is unbearable, but staying might mean all of us dying when this catwalk finally gives way. Jeane's words about soul engineering echo in my mind—the stakes just got higher than I was prepared for. I turn to Seraphine, who’s frantically securing the beam with trembling hands. We need to get out of here before this whole structure collapses. But Merrin… My voice trails off—I can't finish the sentence.

The construct's pronouncement hangs heavy in the air: "The weight of worthiness... is not in the words, but in the weight of the heart." What does that even mean? Some philosophical riddle to torment us before we fall to our deaths? I look at Merrin’s glowing eyes, feeling a mix of horror and pity. I don’t understand what this creature wants from her. From us. I move closer to Jeane, keeping my voice low enough not to startle the bound spirit. Maybe we should listen to Seraphine—get out while we can and figure out how to help Merrin from a safe distance. This place is too dangerous, and I don't trust whatever's controlling her now. My fingers trace the outline of my crossbow nervously. We've already lost Merrin as we knew her—I won't lose anyone else today.

But even as I say it, I know I can’t abandon her completely. The thought gnaws at me—what if there’s a way to help without risking the entire party? I glance back at Merrin, then at the precarious beam Seraphine is securing. Fine. We'll make the bridge and give Merrin a chance to escape if this goes wrong. But we need a backup plan—a way to get out quickly if things turn even worse. I start gathering supplies from my pack—extra rope, tinderbox, anything that might help us descend safely if the catwalk fails. We have to be smart about this. Merrin wouldn't want us all dying trying to save her—not like this.*