Round 11 Transcript

As Seraphine presses back against the tower entrance wall, her eyes tracing the intricate runes, the ground beneath her begins to shudder. The ancient stones groan and creak, releasing a faint whispering that echoes through the room, a soft warning: "Intruders will not be allowed to depart unscathed." The air thickens with malevolent energy, and a faint glow emanates from the depths of one of the shadows cast by the flickering torchlight. The pale light seems to pulse in time with the increasing vibration of the pedestal, drawing the party's attention to the Time-Splitting Sword. A new sound joins the whispering: the creaking of old wooden beams, as if the very structure of the tower is being strained by the growing magical energy. A section of the wall opposite the pedestal begins to slide open, revealing a narrow, dark passageway.

Jeane’s crimson eyes narrow, her wings twitching slightly as she senses the ancient magic pulsing through the tower. The wards are strong, but they’re also… hungry. She can feel them testing her own barriers, probing for weaknesses. This place is alive with malevolent intent. ‘Stay back,’ she says sharply to Varrika and Merrin, raising a hand to halt their forward momentum. ‘These wards aren’t just defensive—they want something. They’re feeding on the sword’s energy.’ Her gaze sweeps across the others. ‘Halie, keep that silver cross ready. Seraphine, I need you to analyze the runes. There has to be a key to disable them without touching the sword.’

She turns her attention back to the pedestal and the Time-Splitting Sword resting upon it. The blade vibrates with power, resonating through the air like a plucked string. Jeane’s teeth ache from its frequency—an almost musical hum that sets her nerves on edge. She wants that sword, craves its ability to bend time itself to her will. But she also knows the price of such power can be… steep. ‘We came here for that cursed blade,’ she mutters under her breath. ‘But I won’t let it claim us first.’

I step closer to the ancient gate, my eyes tracing the complex patterns of the runes carved into its surface. The silver cross around my neck feels cold against my skin, almost as if the metal itself is afraid. Varrika's eyes locked with mine, and I see the unspoken understanding pass between us—this is a trap; Ain't no way it's gonna let us just waltz in and grab that thing. Listen—I can try to purify this space once we're past the wards, but I need you to find a way around them first. Whatever you do, don't let your dwarven curiosity get the better of you and touch anything before we're sure it won't curse us all.

I keep close to Seraphine's side, my eyes darting to every shadow. That sense of wrongness is getting stronger by the moment. I mutter under my breath, "Ain't natural, all this darkness. Keep them blades at the ready, everyone."

The air hums with an ancient power that makes my skin prickle. I step closer to the ancient gate, my eyes tracing the complex patterns of the runes carved into its surface.
It's intricate work, far beyond the crude sigils we saw at the entrance. These are wards of great potency, meant to keep something powerful sealed within the tower.
The silver amulet around my neck feels suddenly heavy, a talisman against dark magic that now seems woefully inadequate. I can almost hear the whispers of long-dead spellcasters echoing from the stone, their voices a warning or an invitation—it's hard to tell which.
"I believe these runes are designed to detect and repel direct magical influence," I say, my voice so low it is almost inaudible over the groaning of the old stone. "If we simply try to dispel them, it could trigger something far more dangerous."
My gaze drops to the pedestal at the center of the room. The Time-Splitting Sword rests there, its blade catching the faint light filtering through cracks in the ceiling. It looks so innocuous, like a common relic from a forgotten age. But we all know better.
"We need to find a way to bypass these wards without using magic directly. Perhaps there is some mechanical or temporal key we're missing."
I turn to Jeane, hoping her sorcerous intuition can shed more light on this puzzle. The air around the gate shimmers, and I feel a sudden, icy draft across my back, raising goosebumps on my arms.
The sound of wood creaking echoes through the chamber, louder than before.

The air crackles with an ancient power, and I feel my hackles rise. This magic feels wrong, like it's been festering for centuries. I step forward, my heavy mace gripped tight in my calloused hands.