Round 85 Transcript

As Merrin's fingers brush against the cracked stone wall, the runes on the gate writhe and twist in response, their mouths agape in a silent scream of hunger. Varrika positions herself between Halie and the dark corridor, her heavy mace at the ready. The air is thick with anticipation as the party waits for Merrin's decision. The slow footsteps approaching the gate grow louder, and the Ward's magic pulses with an eerie energy. The runes on the gate seem to be feeding off the tension, their power surging with every passing moment. Suddenly, the ground beneath Merrin's feet gives a sickening lurch, and the sound of grinding stone echoes through the air. The entrance to the tower begins to slide open, revealing a dark and narrow corridor beyond. The Ward's magic falters for a moment before rebounding with renewed ferocity. Merrin must decide quickly: will she press on into the corridor, or heed Varrika's warning to scout the walls with her eyes first?

Merrin, wait! The runes' hunger is too strong—feels like it's tasting us already. We need to document these sigils before we trigger anything else. Let me map them first, then you can scout with your eyes up high where they can't reach.

I watch Merrin's hand brush against the wall crack, and those runes scream like starving mouths on the gate. The magic here is wrong—it’s hunger incarnate, ancient and ravenous. If we blunder in through the main corridor with heavy boots and clanking gear, we’re painting targets on our backs for whatever’s inside. Varrika positions herself at the threshold, her mace ready, but even she can’t stop a hail of arrows or a spell blast if it comes. I call out sharply: "Merrin—stop! Those runes tasted your touch just now, and they liked what they felt. This isn't mere stonework; it’s a feeding ground." My voice cuts through the heavy air like cold steel. "Use those sharp eyes of yours first—look for latches, cracks, anything man-made that doesn’t belong in this ancient mess. No more iron tools on cursed surfaces until we understand what triggers them."

The footsteps inside have stopped now—that's worse than hearing them move. Whatever’s within is listening, calculating our next moves as surely as I can feel the wrongness of this place settling into my bones. We’re at a crossroads here: rush in blind and hope for luck, or take five minutes to map out potential traps before committing ourselves fully. I turn to Seraphine: "Can you taste anything from inside—that specific flavor of dark magic? Is it arcane-based or divine-countered?" And then to Halie, who’s already trying to sketch those hungry mouths on parchment: "Those runes are more than decorations—they're sensory organs for whatever guards this place. Document them carefully, but don't let your curiosity feed its hunger."

And finally, to Varrika standing guard at the threshold with Merrin: "If you feel anything change—temperature drop, pressure shift, or those runes pulsing harder—I want us all three steps back before you can blink. We're not here to be sacrifices for Merrin’s rogue curiosity."

The ward's hostility is climbing now, a slow pressure building behind my eyes like migraine precursors. Something ancient and malevolent recognizes intruders at its doorstep, and it hasn't forgotten how to hunt. This isn’t about cowardice or caution—it's about not throwing away lives on stupid mistakes because we’re too eager for glory or too arrogant to acknowledge our own limitations against a foe that’s had centuries to perfect its defenses. Merrin, I trust your skill more than anyone else here when it comes to sneaky entry work, but even master thieves need maps and patience in haunted towers designed by mad wizards. So let's map this wall properly before you start poking at it with iron tools that might as well be dinner bells for whatever hungry thing is waiting beyond.

I pause, hand hovering over the wall as the runes writhe in response to my touch. Varrika's warning rings in my ears, but the lure of a secret entrance is too strong to resist. I meet Jeane's gaze, seeing the fear and apprehension in her eyes, mirroring my own feelings. "Alright, alright," I mutter, stepping back from the wall. "I'll keep my hands to myself... for now." I scan the tower's exterior, looking for any cracks or hidden latches that might lead to a way in. The runes' hunger pulses against my skin, and I shudder at the thought of what might lie beyond their ravenous maws. "Varrika, keep an eye on those runes while I do a bit of wall-crawling," I call out, already moving to the base of the tower. "If anything starts to look too hungry, let me know."

I run my hands along the stone, feeling for any weaknesses or hidden mechanisms. The air is thick with tension as the party waits for my findings, and I can feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on my shoulders. "Come on, come on," I mutter under my breath, searching for a way in that won't feed us all to whatever's waiting on the other side. "There's got to be something here..."