Round 1 Transcript

Jeane studies the rune-etched gate with predatory interest, her wings folding neatly against her back. She traces one sigil with a sharp nail. "This isn't mere warding—they've woven intent into every line." Her voice is a low purr. "The lock thinks; it tastes our presence already." The other women stand close together, watching the woods. Jeane doesn't join them. Instead, she circles the gate slowly, her eyes never still. "Halie—silver symbol out, now. We test its worth against this work." She glances back at Merrin and Varrika. "Merrin, get that crowbar ready. Varrika, shield up—if anything stirs in those trees, I want you between it and them." Her gaze sweeps the group commandingly. "We move together, or not at all. This gate screams 'trap,' but we need through." She taps a rune with her staff's tip. "I can feel the dead inside, waiting. Let's not keep them."

I approach the gate's surface with the deference it deserves. This isn't just wood and iron—the magic here is palpable, cold and resistant before we've even touched it. I trace one of the runes with my thumb, feeling its texture under my skin. "Intent this strong... we won't simply break through." My gaze shifts to Merrin's nimble fingers. "Can you work these sigils without awakening them further?" It needs to be thought through like a prayer before we act.

I step forward, peering at the gate with narrowed eyes. "Aye, this lock's no ordinary tumble, that's plain to see." I run my fingers along the rune-etched surface, feeling the magic hum beneath my touch. "We'll need more than picks for this one."

I glance back at my companions, a sly smile tugging at my lips despite the unease coiling in my gut. "Looks like it's time to put those fancy spells of yours to the test, ladies. Halie, any chance you've got a prayer or two that can sweet-talk this thing open?"

I step back, giving the sorceresses and cleric some space as I scan the area for any hidden mechanisms or pressure plates. My hand rests on the hilt of my dagger, ready to draw at the first sign of trouble. "And keep those eyes peeled," I mutter. "If there's one thing I know about magic this old, it's that it comes with traps."

I watch as Merrin examines the intricate runes, my own fingers twitching with the urge to join her exploration. The magic in this place is ancient and potent; it feels like standing at the edge of a vast, unknown book waiting to be opened. I take a slow step closer, the heavy fabric of my robes whispering around my ankles. "A lock with intent," I murmur, echoing Jeane's observation. My gaze traces the complex patterns etched into the wood. "That suggests more than just a simple key or combination."
*I pull a small silver pendant from beneath my collar—a delicate replica of an open scroll—the symbol of my scholarly guild. It feels cool against my skin, a small anchor in this swirling sea of unknown power. "We need to understand the nature of its command before we can hope to bypass it."