Round 22 Transcript

As Merrin tests her limbs and calls out for Varrika's help, the air in the pit begins to ripple with a faint, noxious mist. The central rune on the wall pulses brighter, illuminating the dark chamber, but also seeming to react to the disturbance in the pit. A low, ominous growl echoes from the depths of the pit, and the skeletons reanimated by dark magic stir, their bones creaking as they begin to climb down the rope. Varrika hastily examines the rope's mechanisms, noticing that the tension is increasing by the second. The rope creaks under the weight of the skeletons, and one of them suddenly lunges out, its bony hand grasping for Merrin. The Hermit's voice echoes from the distance, "The tower's instability grows, and the runes are warning you... act swiftly, before it's too late!"

I light the torch and move closer to the pit's edge. The stone feels warm beneath my hands—too warm. Those runes don't just crawl, they pulse like hearts buried alive. Merrin, can you grab onto the rope? Varrika, examine every knot and tie. We need it secure before we pull her up. The air tastes of copper and decay now. Something's waking down there. Jeane is right—this ward was meant to contain something far worse than undead guardians. We retrieve that sword, but we don't touch it. Not until we understand its curse.

I grab a torch and hurry to the pit's edge. The runes crawl and pulse ominously. I keep my mace ready for whatever may emerge from below. Merrin, can you reach the rope? I'll secure it here.

The rope tightens as Varrika and Halie haul me up from the pit. I brush myself off, trying to still my trembling hands. Those skeletons are still down there, and who knows what else the tower is hiding. "Thanks for the assist," I mutter, not meeting Varrika's eyes. "I'm alright, just...spooked."

My gaze flicks to the pulsing runes etched into the stone. They crawl like worms beneath the skin, oozing with malice. The air feels thick, heavy with the weight of ancient magic. I swallow hard, fighting down the bile rising in my throat. "We need to be careful," I say quietly, keeping my voice low so it doesn't carry. "This place...it's not right. Something's wrong here, and it's getting worse." I glance at the others, gauging their reactions. Halie is frowning, her fingers tracing the lines of a rune as if trying to decipher its meaning. Varrika has her mace in a white-knuckled grip, ready to swing at anything that might emerge from the shadows. Jeane is muttering under her breath, her eyes distant as she tries to puzzle out the tower's defenses. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. Whatever lies ahead, we'll face it together. But first, we need a plan. And we need to be smart about it. I give Varrika a sharp nod, then turn my attention back to the pit, scanning its depths for any sign of movement. The sword is down there somewhere, I'm sure of it. But getting our hands on that blade without setting off every trap in the place? That's going to take more than just a bit of luck and quick feet. It's going to take skill, caution, and maybe a dash of divine intervention. I just hope we're up to the challenge. Because one thing's for certain - this tower isn't going to give up its secrets easily. And the longer we stay, the more I get the feeling that something here wants to keep us as its guests...permanently.

I recognize these runes from forbidden tomes I studied—warding spells designed to contain the worst sorts of artifacts. The stone feels warm beneath my hands—too warm for natural decay. Those symbols don't just crawl, they pulse like hearts buried alive. The air tastes of copper and decay now. Merrin, can you grab onto that rope? Varrika, examine every knot and tie. We retrieve that sword, but we don't touch it. Not until we understand its curse.