Round 91 Transcript

As Jeane descends the narrow winding staircase alone, the air grows thick with an otherworldly energy that crackles against her skin. The destabilizing rune on the floor pulses brighter, casting eerie shadows on the walls as the ground beneath her feet seems to writhe in agony. The poisonous gases emanating from the pit below swirl and churn, threatening to choke her at every turn. At the bottom of the staircase, Jeane finds herself standing before a large, ornate pedestal, upon which rests the Time-Splitting Sword. The sword's hilt hums with dark energy, and its blade seems to be drawing power from the surrounding air. As she reaches out to take hold of the sword, the ground beneath her feet gives a violent shudder, and the walls of the chamber begin to tremble ominously.

The air here is wrong—heavy with magic that feels like teeth scraping my skin inside out. Every instinct screams to retreat, to spread wings and fly back up where the only threat is gravity instead of whatever hungers below. But Merrin is down there, and I won't let her die alone in some cursed staircase while Halie watches helplessly. The central rune pulses again, brighter this time, and I catch Varrika's eye across the chamber. We both know what that means—the longer we stand here debating, the more likely this tower comes down around our ears. So I step forward, wings folding tight against my back as I approach the edge of the staircase. 'Wait.' Halie's voice stops me mid-stride. 'Jeane, you can't—'

'I can,' I cut in sharply. 'And I will. Varrika needs help, and someone has to go down there who understands what we're dealing with.' My fingers curl around the hilt of my mace, a familiar weight grounding me even as everything else feels unmoored. The oppressive magic presses in, thick and choking, but it's nothing compared to the pull of power I sense below. Merrin needs someone to guide her out if she's still conscious. If not... then someone needs to end her suffering before the curse spreads further. That responsibility falls on me whether I want it or not. My kind has always been good at taking what we need by force—this should be no different, even if the force required is my own will rather than magic. I descend the first step, and the ground gives a sickening groan beneath my boot. The air grows colder, heavier, thick with an ancient death magic that makes my wings ache and my skin crawl. Each step down feels like walking into quicksand—resistance building, pulling me back—but I force myself forward anyway. 'Stay there,' I call back to the others without looking. 'If this is a trap, I'd rather spring it alone than drag all of you down with me.'

I descend carefully, keeping Merrin's body steady, though every instinct screams at me to leave this place. The air grows thicker with each step, and I swear I can feel something... alive in the shadows cast by our flickering torches. This sword has consumed one of us already—I won't let it have another. I reach the bottom, and the staircase opens into a chamber unlike any above. The stones here seem to pulse with a sickly green light, and the weapon lies at its center, humming with dark energy. But there's something else—the source of that malevolent presence I've felt since we entered this godforsaken tower. It's not the sword alone. I set Merrin down gently, keeping my holy symbol clutched in one hand while reaching for my crossbow with the other. Whatever happens next, I won't face it unarmed. The question is whether facing it armed makes any damned difference at all.

I peer into the ominous pit, my grip tightening on the heavy mace. The air down there swirls with foul gases and malevolent energy. Every instinct screams at me to turn back, to flee this accursed place. But Merrin's fate weighs heavy on my conscience. Her tormented screams still echo in my ears. If the Time-Splitting Sword is indeed the source of her suffering, then we must retrieve it, consequences be damned. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what lies ahead. "Alright, listen up," I growl, my voice rough with exhaustion and barely suppressed fear. "We stick together. Halie, keep that holy symbol at the ready - we may need it to ward off whatever foul magics await us below."

I turn to Jeane, my expression grim. "Sorceress, your knowledge of the arcane may be our salvation... or our doom. Stay sharp and watch for any signs of danger." My gaze lingers on her, a silent warning. If she tries to snatch the sword for herself, I won't hesitate to stop her - curse or no curse. As for Merrin... I can only pray to the gods that she still lives, that there is some shred of the woman we once knew hidden beneath that twisted shell. I will bear her weight if I must, carry her out of this hellhole on my own back if need be. I look to Halie, meeting her gaze with a nod of grim determination. "We do this, we get in, grab the blade, and get out. No lingering, no heroic nonsense. This tower is crumbling around us - one wrong move and it'll come down like a house of cards."

I take a step towards the edge of the pit, my boots scraping against the crumbling stone. "Stay sharp, stay close, and for the love of all that's holy... watch your backs." With that, I begin my descent into the unknown, my heart pounding in my ears as the darkness swallows me whole. In this moment, I am no longer Varrika the warrior, the scarred veteran who has faced down a thousand foes. I am a woman teetering on the edge of madness, plunging into a nightmare of her own making. And gods help us all if we survive this ordeal intact.