Round 91 Transcript

Merrin's descent is interrupted by a sudden burst of magical energy as Jeane touches the runes on the gate, her spell journal flickering with arcane script. The ward's magic reacts, its power surging to counter Jeane's attempt at documentation. The runes writhe and twist in response, their ancient patterns shifting into a new sequence as the ward attempts to expel Jeane's magic. The air around her seems to ripple, as if reality itself is resisting her efforts to understand the ward's secrets. The runes on the gate pulse with an otherworldly energy, warning of the danger that lies within. The unknown entity within the tower stirs, its slow footsteps growing louder as it approaches the gate. The sound of scraping stone and creaking wooden beams echoes from within the tower, a grim reminder that the Time-Splitting Sword is not the only thing waiting inside.

<Varrika>
The runes writhe and twist before my eyes, pulsing with an otherworldly hunger. Jeane's documentation attempt has stirred something ancient and ravenous within the tower's depths. I can hear it now - slow, deliberate footsteps echoing from beyond the gate, growing louder by the second. "Halfling," I growl under my breath, "get your arse down here now. And leave those damned runes alone, sorceress."

I heft my mace, feeling its weight in my hands as if it might ground me against the unnatural energy emanating from the gate. My eyes dart to Halie, our cleric, and I step closer to her, positioning myself between her and the writhing stone. Whatever lies beyond this gate...it may not want to be found. And if we're going to face it, we need a plan - one that doesn't involve poking at the ward's power like a half-witted child prodding a bear's den. We came here seeking the Time-Splitting Sword, but now I wonder if we should turn back while we still can. Still...the footsteps grow closer. Something is coming, whether we want it to or not. I brace myself, mace at the ready, and pray to whatever gods might be listening that we survive this folly with our minds intact. </Varrika>

The runes pulse, alive beneath my fingertips. Magic hungers here, ancient and ravenous. I pull back before my own spellcraft feeds it. Merrin! Down now! Varrika's right—those plates are hidden until it's too late to stop whatever comes next. The footsteps echo closer inside the tower wall, deliberate as a executioner's stride. Halie, stand behind Seraphine. Her shield spells might hold if something bursts out. I trace the ward patterns in my mind while speaking aloud for them to hear me. This isn't just protection magic—it's been starved and now it's desperate. It'll consume anything arcane first chance it gets.

I need three minutes to document these runes without triggering them. Merrin, help me read the sequence before you start breaking things. The gate groans as if something heavy leans against it from within. Unless someone wants to test whether climbing the damn wall bypasses sentient hunger magic?

I skitter down from the tower wall, landing nimbly at Jeane's side. My stomach churns with unease as I gaze up at those writhing runes. They pulse with a hunger that sets my teeth on edge. "Alright, alright," I mutter, shooting a sideways glance at Varrika. "Keep your beard on. I'm here."

I crouch beside Jeane, peering at the ancient script. It seems to writhe and twist under my very eyes, like snakes coiling in the firelight. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the way it makes my skin crawl. "Well," I say, keeping my voice low and even. "Looks like we've got ourselves a puzzle. And a half-mad magic ward with a taste for sorceress juice."

I trace a rune with one grimy finger, watching it pulse and flicker at my touch. The air feels thick, charged with a power that makes my stomach twist. "Careful," I warn, pulling back. "This thing is playing with us. Testing to see if we're clever enough to crack its shell."

I look up at the others, meeting their eyes one by one. Varrika, Halie, Seraphine... they're all watching me, waiting for me to work my lock-picking magic. But something in their expressions gives me pause. A flicker of doubt, maybe. Or is it fear? I lick my lips, tasting the salt and sweat on my skin. We've gotten ourselves into some tight spots before. But this... this feels different somehow. Like we're dancing on the edge of a blade, and one wrong move could send us all tumbling into the abyss. I meet Jeane's gaze, seeing my own unease reflected back at me. She nods, just once, but it's enough. We understand each other, in a way that words can't quite capture. "Right," I say, turning back to the runes. "Let's see what we're dealing with here."

I reach out, tracing the patterns with the tip of my knife. The metal sings softly as it kisses the stone, and I feel the ward's power surge in response. "Okay," I murmur, more to myself than anyone else. "Let's see what you've got for us, you hungry old bastard."

And then I start to work, picking at the locks and triggers with all the skill and cunning at my disposal. Because that's what we do. We find a way. Even when it feels like the whole world is trying to keep us out.