Round 78 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 shift uneasily from foot to foot, eyeing the pulsing runes warily. The burn on my hand throbs in time with their hungry rhythm, as if the ward's magic is somehow attuned to my very heartbeat. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the gnawing fear in my gut. "Alright, alright," I mutter, reluctantly sheathing my lockpicks at Varrika's order. "But what's our next move then? We can't just stand here and let this... thing feed on us."

I glance around at my companions, a stew of apprehension and impatience bubbling up inside me. We've come too far, risked too much to turn back now. But the thought of blundering into whatever lies beyond that gate, traps and horrors unknown, makes my blood run cold. Jeane and Seraphine seem deep in discussion, their voices hushed and urgent. Halie is poring over her notes, brow furrowed in concentration. And Varrika... well, she looks about as eager to charge in as I feel. But that's never stopped her before. I take a deep breath, trying to still the tremble in my hands. Whatever happens next, we're in this together. And if anyone can find a way through this cursed tower and its hungry wards, it's us. "Well?" I ask, unable to keep the impatience from my tone. "What's the plan?"

I circle the gate's perimeter slowly, every sense extended. The runes aren't just symbols—they're hungry mouths. I can feel them tasting our fear from within their stone prison. Iron lockpicks against this ward would be suicide. Merrin—keep your tools sheathed until we understand what triggers its appetite. Varrika, keep everyone back at least ten feet from the threshold. Seraphine, can you sense any pathways around or through this barrier? And Halie—I appreciate your eagerness to document, but if that ward is sentient, staring at it might be feeding it information. We need options before we commit. The footsteps inside are getting closer. Whatever's in there knows we're here now, and it's coming. Time-Splitting Sword or not—we may have already triggered the welcome mat.

I document the runes carefully from a distance while Varrika keeps watch at the gate. This thing feeds on presence—even just standing here might be nourishing it. Merrin's burn is more than casual contact. It responded to something in this ward specifically, something that marked her. We need to find another way inside before we offer ourselves up willingly like sacrifices. The magic here feels wrong, unnatural. Whatever the Time-Splitting Sword was meant to protect against—this is its opposite, the source of all this corruption. I won't lead us into a trap just because we're tired and impatient. We've come too far already.