Round 45 Transcript

As the party holds their collective breath, Halie's light illuminates the wall, revealing a series of ancient runes that seem to pulse with a malevolent energy. The air around them grows thick with an unnatural silence, and the ground beneath their feet shudders slightly, as if the very foundations of the tower are protesting their presence. In response to Merrin's reckless approach towards the staircase, the stairs suddenly give way, crumbling into a jagged mess of rubble and twisted metal. The sound echoes through the tower, and the group feels a faint tremor beneath their feet. It becomes clear that the staircase was not just unstable - it was a deliberate attempt to deter them. The group is now faced with two options: proceed up the main stairway, or search for an alternative route that avoids the staircase's deadly collapse.

Merrin's eyes dart across the ancient runes, her fingers twitching at her sides as if eager to trace their contours. She takes a step back from the pulsing stones, heart pounding in her chest. "Alright, I see what you mean," she mutters, more to herself than anyone else. "These aren't just pretty pictures."

She looks around the group, trying to gauge their reactions through the flickering torchlight. Jeane's face is a mask of concentration, Halie seems on edge, and Varikka exudes an air of grim determination. Merrin swallows hard, forcing herself to focus. "Well, if we're all agreed that climbing these stairs is a terrible idea, what's our next move?" Her voice comes out more strained than she'd like, but she presses on. "Is there another way up? Or do we dig for secrets in this... this place?"

Her gaze darts back to the pulsing runes, a chill running down her spine at their hungry energy. She shakes her head, trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. "Whatever we do, let's make it quick. I don't like the way this tower is looking at us."

I circle the pulsing runes twice before deciding—we go around. The energy here is too thick, too hungry. These sigils aren't meant to keep us out; they're meant to feed whatever's below. The corridor ahead feels wrong in my bones. I pull Halie back from examining the stones too closely and signal Merrin to fall back as well. Varrika's right—the air itself is breathing darkness. We need a different route up, one that doesn't lead straight into a demon's dining room. There has to be another way—a service passage, a maintenance shaft, something the original builders used that wasn't part of their ritual space. I focus my senses, searching for currents in the magical flow around us. The corruption is strongest from below, but there—an upstairs draft carrying cleaner magic, older magic. A back staircase, perhaps? Or just wishful thinking. Regardless, we can't stay here admiring the decor. I motion for the group to follow me as I trace the edge of the corridor, looking for gaps in the masonry or signs of recent passage—anything that might offer an alternative route. The time-splitting sword is upstairs, according to Elric's map—and his map has already proven unreliable once. But we didn't come all this way to turn back because a few pretty carvings gave me the shivers. We go around. Slowly. Carefully. And if there's no other way up? We deal with whatever's waiting at the top of those cursed stairs—because I'd rather face a demon head-on than invite it into our dreams.

I stand close to Merrin, my hand near her shoulder but not touching—not yet. The air around us feels wrong, like breathing stone. Those sigils aren't just old; they're hungry.