Round 61 Transcript

The tension in The base of a crumbling stone tower, its entrance sealed by an ancient rune-covered gate, deep within the haunted Whispering Woods tightens for a beat as the interruption refuses to go away. Everyone is forced to stay quiet and choose their next move carefully.

I step forward, raising my silver holy symbol. "Enough. We're not breaking in blind." I turn to Jeane and Merrin. "You scouted the back. Good. Now we document these runes properly before anyone touches them again." I take out my journal. "Varrika, stand guard at the corner—you're our shield against anything that comes from within." I glare at the pulsing gate. "And Seraphine? If you even think about casting a spell near this thing without consulting me first, I'll smack your staff down myself." I start sketching methodically, keeping distance.

I don't like this. The runes are angry red and pulsing faster now—whatever's inside is sentient and hungry. We can't force entry blindly; we'll just feed whatever's lurking to us on a silver platter. Merrin: Stop fiddling with the lock, you're provoking it. And don't think about using your iron tools anywhere near that metal—it might be warded too. Varrika, get ready for whatever comes through. Seraphine, no spellcasting without my direct approval. Halie, document everything carefully but keep your distance. I'm going to circle the tower and look for gaps or hidden doors—somewhere we can slip in quietly before Merrin triggers a trap or whatever's inside gets bored waiting for us.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself as I press my ear against the ancient stone. The whispers are louder now, a sinister susurrus that seems to emanate from the very stones themselves. I can feel the hunger of whatever lies beyond, its malevolent gaze boring into my very soul. With a final glance back at my companions, I make my decision. I can't risk provoking the runes any further, not with whatever unknown entity lurks within. No, we need to find another way in. I creep along the wall, scanning for any gaps or hidden doors. My heart pounds in my ears as I move, each step echoing unnaturally loud in the stillness of the night. The tower looms above me, its crumbling facade a silent sentinel watching my every move. As I round the corner, I freeze. There, set into the stone, is an ancient door. Its surface is pitted and worn, but the wood still looks sturdy. And most importantly, it shows no signs of the pulsing runes that guard the main entrance. I press my hand against the wood, feeling for any traps or wards. Nothing. It seems clear. I turn back to where I left my companions, ready to signal them over. But as I do, a sound stops me cold. A scrape of stone on stone, coming from within the tower. Something is moving in there. And it's getting closer.