Round 12 Transcript

The air grows thick with the stench of decay as Varrika steps forward into the darkness, her boots echoing on the stone floor. The skeletal warrior lunges at her, its bony arms outstretched, and she raises her sword to deflect the blow. The blade slices through the air, striking true, but the skeleton remains upright, its eyes glowing with malevolent intent. As Varrika stumbles back, the gate behind her shudders, the wards triggering a burst of dark energy that sends her stumbling into the hallway. The blue glow intensifies, illuminating cobweb-shrouded portraits on the walls, their subjects' faces twisted in agony. The whispers grow deafening, the voice warning of an ancient evil stirring deep within the tower. A new sound echoes through the hallway - the creaking of old wooden beams, followed by the faint clanging of metal on stone. Jeane's eyes narrow as she examines the runes on the gate, her mind racing with possibilities.

I don't care for this. The magic here feels... wrong. Twisted in ways even I can barely comprehend. Whatever's inside this tower, it predates anything we've encountered before. We need to approach this carefully.

I approach the ancient gate with trepidation, my keen eyes scanning the pulsing runes etched into its surface. The wards hum with dark energy, and I know that if we're right about the wards, we have a narrow window of opportunity to bypass them before whatever is inside becomes aware of our presence.

The air in the tower is thick with an ancient, malevolent energy. Varrika steps cautiously into the darkness, her heavy boots echoing on the stone floor. The blue glow from the pulsing wards casts eerie shadows across the walls, and the cobweb-shrouded portraits seem to watch her every move. She can hear the others whispering behind her, but she keeps her focus forward, scanning for any sign of movement. Her hand tightens on the grip of her mace as she advances deeper into the hallway, senses on high alert for potential threats. The whispers grow louder, more urgent, and Varrika's stomach twists with a sense of unease. Whatever is inside this tower, it's not natural. The magic that pulses from its depths is wrong, twisted in a way she's never encountered before. As she takes another step forward, the gate behind her shudders violently, and the blue glow intensifies. Varrika stumbles back, eyes narrowing as she tries to make sense of the situation. She can hear Jeane examining the runes on the gate, and Merrin's voice calling out a warning. Varrika's mind races as she tries to formulate a plan. They need to find the Time-Splitting Sword, but they also need to be prepared for whatever horrors this accursed tower might unleash upon them. The narrow hallways limit their formation options, and the thought of being cornered by undead guardians or dark sorcerers fills her with dread. She turns to face the others, her voice gruff but filled with concern. "Alright, listen up," she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We stick together, we watch each other's backs, and we don't take any unnecessary risks. If something feels wrong, we get out of there fast. Understood?"

The others nod in agreement, their faces etched with a mixture of determination and apprehension. Varrika takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what lies ahead. They may be facing unimaginable horrors, but they are not alone. With a final glance over her shoulder, Varrika turns back to face the darkness, her mace at the ready. It's time to face whatever evils this tower holds, and retrieve the sword that could save them all.

I move toward Merrin, my hand outstretched. “Wait. Those runes feel wrong—twisted somehow.” I pull back, trying to sense the magic without touching it. “Jeane, can you cast Detect Magic? We need to know exactly what kind of wards we’re dealing with before anyone starts fiddling.”

I turn to face Varrika, who’s already halfway down the hallway. “Varrika! Come back—you’ll trigger whatever’s powering this place!” My voice cracks a little with fear and frustration. I can’t let her blunder into an obvious trap. The air inside feels thick and wrong, like walking through cobwebs made of darkness. Merrin hesitates, glancing from the gate to me and then back. “I just want to—” I cut her off. “No. We don’t touch anything until we understand what’s going on.” My eyes narrow as the runes begin glowing. “Shit. That’s not good.”

The whispers grow louder, more insistent. Whatever this ‘Devourer’ is, it sounds panicked about something waking up. I back away slightly from the doorway, hand moving to the hilt of my mace. “Everyone stand back. Something’s happening.”