Round 58 Transcript

Jeane stumbles forward into the central rune's pulsing green light, her body trembling as the air seems to writhe around her. The Time-Splitting Sword's resting place comes into view: a pedestal of black stone, surrounded by a halo of sickly green energy that pulses in time with the central rune's heartbeat. As Jeane approaches, the pedestal begins to glow with an eerie, otherworldly light. Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet gives way, sending her tumbling down a hidden shaft. The sound of rushing air and crumbling stone fills the air as Merrin's voice echoes from the darkness: "No! Jeane, catch me!"

The central rune pulses ominously beneath my boots—as if it senses our presence and is hungry for more. An ancient, hungry presence pulls me down into the darkness. Every instinct screams warning, but we came here for a purpose: to retrieve the Time-Splitting Sword, not let it claim us one by one. I clutch my silver holy symbol tighter, feeling its familiar weight ground me against the creeping dread. The air itself is thick with malevolence, and I can practically taste the corruption on my tongue—salty and wrong like iron and decay rolled into one. "Wait," I say, stepping forward to block Merrin's path down the stairs. "Something's changed since we entered this chamber. The magic feels... alive." The pulsing green light from below is brighter now, more insistent. It wants us down there, wants us to take the sword and be corrupted by it. "We need to proceed with extreme caution," I continue, my voice measured but firm. "Let me go first—I can cast Protection Against Evil if we encounter anything hostile." The thought of touching that cursed blade makes my skin crawl, but someone must bear the burden, and as a cleric, it's my duty to face such dangers head-on. "But listen," I add, looking around at each party member in turn. "We cannot all go down there together. The curse spreads through contact—we saw what happened to Merrin." Her fingers are already turning grey at the tips, the corruption working its way up her arms like a slow-moving stain. "One of us must take the sword and pass it quickly to the next, each holding it for only a second before handing it off."

I meet Merrin's eyes—her face set with grim determination despite the pain I know she's in—and lower my voice so only she can hear. "If... if you feel yourself succumbing too quickly, don't hesitate to drop the blade and let me cast Remove Curse immediately." The thought of losing her weighs heavy on my conscience. "Now," I say to the group, stepping forward once more with my holy symbol raised like a shield against the darkness below. "Who will volunteer to go first? We must act quickly before the tower collapses entirely or the magic overwhelms us all."

I step forward into the central rune's pulsing green light, feeling resistance in the air like pressing through thick water. The ground shudders beneath my boots—not an earthquake, something more deliberate—and a section of the wall collapses behind us with a roar, sealing off our retreat. The malevolent energy is immediate and overwhelming, making every nerve scream warning. This isn't just cursed stone—something ancient sleeps here, something hungry that now stirs at our presence. The air tastes wrong, thick with death magic that coats my tongue with copper. I can feel it pulling at the dark corners of my mind, trying to latch onto something primal inside me. But we've come too far to turn back now. The Time-Splitting Sword—our salvation or our ruin—lies somewhere below, and every moment we hesitate, the curse spreads further through Merrin's veins like ink in water. Varrika's torchlight barely penetrates the darkness ahead, and I know this is a death trap waiting to snap shut. "Wait," I say sharply, holding up a hand as Merrin moves toward the winding staircase that descends into blackness. "The central rune—it pulses brighter with each step we take. This isn't natural magic." The rhythm of its light synchronizes with my heartbeat now, accelerating from slow to frantic in seconds. I draw power into my palm, the air crackling as purple energy gathers there—a spell ready to strike whatever emerges from the shadows below. But I don't cast it yet; unleashing arcane force here feels like pissing on a hornet's nest. Instead I approach the edge of the central rune carefully, wings tucked close against my body, skin crawling with every inch forward. The pedestal at the bottom of those stairs comes into view then: black stone carved with symbols that make my eyes ache to look upon them too long. And atop it—faintly gleaming despite the torchlight—a sword. The Time-Splitting Sword. Our prize and our potential doom. "I'm going down there," I say, voice tight with barely controlled fear. "With or without you lot."

I approach the edge of the pit, peering into the darkness below. The air feels thick and oppressive, pulsing with a malevolent energy that sets my teeth on edge. I can feel the curse burning through my veins, urging me onward even as every instinct screams at me to turn back. "Jeane, wait!" I call out, my voice echoing in the crumbling chamber. "There's something wrong about this place. We need to be careful." But my words are drowned out by the groan of shifting stone and the flicker of ancient magic. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what lies ahead. With a final glance at my companions, I step forward into the unknown, my hand tight on the hilt of my dagger. The curse may be spreading, but I'll be damned if I let it win without a fight.