Round 66 Transcript

As they descend deeper into the pit, the noxious gas grows thicker, its acrid scent burning Jeane's eyes and making her cough. The air is heavy with malevolent energy, and the central rune's pulsing light casts eerie shadows on the walls. The ground beneath them shudders again, and the sound of scuttling, unseen creatures echoes through the pit. Varrika's grip on the mace tightens, her senses straining as she scans their surroundings for any signs of danger. The darkness seems to press in around them, making it impossible to gauge their distance from the edge of the pit. Suddenly, a faint whispering begins to echo off the walls, the words indistinguishable but the malevolent intent clear. Merrin's body, still twisted and contorted by the curse, begins to slide down the tunnel, her eyes frozen in a permanent scream. The ground beneath them gives another sickening lurch, and the sound of rushing air grows louder, threatening to engulf them.

Jeane descends carefully, wings pulled tight against her back as if shielding herself from the oppressive magic. She keeps her crossbow aimed down into the greenish gloom below, the weapon's stock pressed firmly against her shoulder. "The curse is spreading faster than I've heard stories suggest," she says to no one in particular, more to ground her own nerves than out of genuine need for conversation. "Whatever waits at the bottom of those stairs means to claim us."

Her crimson eyes scan the walls as they descend, searching for signs of traps or magical runes that might react to their presence. The air grows thicker with each step down—the scent of something ancient and hungry filling her nostrils, making her want to gag. Varrika's steadying presence is reassuring, but Jeane finds herself more worried than comforted by the fighter's eagerness to press forward. She knows Varikka means well, but that kind of impulsive courage can be deadly when dealing with something as old and malevolent as whatever lies ahead. "Stay sharp, all of you," she warns softly. "If we're walking into a trap, I'd rather see it coming than stumble blindly."

Her finger rests lightly on the crossbow's trigger, ready to fire at any threat that reveals itself in the swirling mist below. The weight of the sword strapped across her back feels heavier now—an anchor pulling them all toward doom if they're not careful. Jeane's mind races with possibilities, weighing risks against rewards. Drop the sword here? No, too dangerous—the stairs could collapse under them or whatever lurks below might claim it before they escape. But keep it and risk Merrin succumbing completely to the curse? The central rune pulses again, its sickly light seeming to reach out toward her like hungry fingers. Jeane takes another step down, her wings twitching involuntarily against the sensation.

As we descend into the depths of this accursed tower, I can feel the weight of its ancient magic pressing down on us like a suffocating shroud. The air grows thick with an otherworldly miasma, and the very stones seem to quiver with malevolent intent. My grip tightens on the haft of my mace as we round another turn in the winding staircase. Every sense is straining, alert for any sign of danger - hidden traps, undead guardians, or worse. I've faced my share of dark sorcery in my years as a warrior, but this... this feels different. Older. Hungrier. I glance back at Jeane and Halie, their faces etched with fear and determination. Merrin brings up the rear, her eyes wild and unfocused as the curse claws at her mind. We're all playing with fire down here, and I pray to the gods we don't get burned. The stairs end abruptly in a small chamber, the walls slick with some foul, oily substance. In the center, a stone altar pulses with sickly green light, runes etched into its surface glowing like captured stars. And there, laid out as if in offering... The Time-Splitting Sword, its blade shimmering with arcane power. I raise a hand, signaling for silence. Something about this feels wrong, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. We've come too far to turn back now, but we'd best proceed with caution. Whatever magic this place holds, I have a feeling it won't part with its prize easily. I take a step forward, mace at the ready, and pray that whatever waits for us in this lightless pit can be faced by steel and strength alone.