Round 31 Transcript

As Merrin secures himself down below, the skeleton's cold, empty grin widens, its jaw creaking open to reveal a set of jagged teeth stained with ancient grime. The air vibrates with malevolent energy, and a faint, acrid gas wafts up from the depths of the pit, making Jeane's eyes water. The central rune's pulse surges, its light flickering like a dying star. Suddenly, a low, mournful sigh resonates through the chamber, and the sound of grinding stone echoes up from the pit, signaling the tower's collapse is imminent.

I step closer to Seraphine, my hand already reaching for one of the healing potions. The air down here feels wrong—like it's pressing in on us, thick with something that chafes against my skin. "If Merrin calls out," I say, voice low but steady, "we need to be ready." My eyes flick to Varrika, then back to the pit. "And if anything comes up... we can't afford to hesitate." The central rune pulses again, harder this time, and a shudder runs through the stones above us. This whole place is rotting from the inside out, and I don't want to know what's keeping it standing.

I can feel it—the tower itself is breathing around us. Inhaling ancient death magic through those carved channels like a sick lung pulling in air. The central rune pulses harder now, matching that rhythm, and I'm certain whatever's waiting below sees Merrin descending as an invitation. We're trapped between the curse above and whatever hunger lies beneath. The skeleton's grin widens—it knows something we don't—and that gas is poison mixed with compulsion magic, designed to loosen tongues or maybe just make us see things that aren't there. I hate this place already.

The central rune pulses with an almost physical force now, its light strobing against my eyes like a frantic heartbeat. The air grows thicker still, heavy with the scent of ancient stone and something else—something rotten, undead. I can feel it, a malevolent pressure building in the very bones of the tower.
"Halie was right," I mutter, my voice so low it’s nearly lost to the groaning of old stone and shifting earth. "This is wrong magic. Ancient and foul."
My gaze flicks to Merrin as she secures the rope around her waist, her movements sharp and efficient even in this oppressive atmosphere. Fear coils in my gut, but beneath it, a thrill of discovery. This is what we came for—to unravel the secrets of the Time-Splitting Sword—but I know now that some secrets are better left buried.
I take a step closer to the pit’s edge, peering down into the swirling darkness below. The light from our torches doesn’t penetrate more than a few feet before it’s swallowed by the shadows. "Merrin," I call out, my voice steady despite the tremor that runs through me. "Be quick. We don’t know what might be stirred by your descent."
My mind races, already planning for every contingency. The runes on the gate... they weren’t just a deterrent. They were a warning. And now, with Merrin about to plunge into that abyss, we may all be walking straight into the heart of it.

The dwarf woman tenses, her battle-hardened muscles rippling beneath weathered skin. She grips her mace tighter, knuckles whitening. "Merrin," Varrika grunts through gritted teeth, "Get in there quick and get out faster. Ain't no good can come of us loitering round here."

Her eyes dart to the central rune, pulsing with an ominous glow. Ancient power thrums through the air, thick as poison. "Whatever's down there," she warns, "It knows we're here now. First sign of trouble, you call out and I start hauling you up, aye?"

Varrika steps forward, ready to brace the rope if needed. Her scarred face is grim but determined. "We're in this together, but I'll be damned if I let anyone get dragged off by some magic-touched horror. Now move!"

The dwarf's voice echoes through the chamber, a battle cry against the encroaching darkness. She plants her feet and prepares to hold her ground, whatever may come climbing up from the depths.

My heart hammers as I secure the rope around my waist. The rough fibers dig into my hands, grounding me in this moment of trepidation. I give it a sharp tug to test the knot, meeting Seraphine's eyes as I do. Her nod is tense, her fingers flexing as if itching to grab the rope and pull me back. But there's determination in her gaze too. We've come too far to turn back now. Jeane's words echo in my mind, a shiver running down my spine at the thought of this crumbling tower breathing ancient death magic. I can almost feel it, pulsing through the stone like a sick heartbeat. Whatever's waiting for us down there, I have a feeling it's been waiting a long time. I turn to Varrika, who steps forward with grim resolve. "Aye," she says, her voice a low rumble. "Get in there quick and get out faster. Ain't no good can come of us loitering round here."

Halie's hand rests on my shoulder, her touch a brief comfort. "Be careful, Merrin," she murmurs. "We don't know what might be stirred by your descent."

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. But I force a grin, trying to lighten the mood even as fear gnaws at my belly. "Don't worry about me, love. I'll be in and out before you can miss me."

With that, I turn to the pit, taking a deep breath. The air is thick with the scent of ancient stone and something rotten, undead. The central rune pulses with a malevolent force, its red glow seeming to grow brighter as I approach. I grip the rope tightly, my callused fingers finding familiar purchase. "Alright then," I mutter under my breath. "Let's see what secrets this tower's been keeping."

And with that, I begin my descent into the unknown.