Round 23 Transcript

As Seraphine stands at the edge of the pit, her staff humming with energy, the pulsing runes on the walls seem to grow brighter, illuminating the dark air. The fresh magic layering over ancient decay appears to be feeding into a hidden chamber, where Merrin's faint cries echo through the darkness. Varrika keeps her mace at ready, scanning shadows for movement, and calls out to Halie to sense any undead nearby. Halie focuses her senses, her eyes closed, as she whispers, "I sense... the presence of the undead, but it's not near. It's deeper, in the chamber where Merrin's trapped."

The air is charged with an ominous energy, and Jeane scans the tower's entrance, her eyes locked on the ward pulse, which seems to be growing stronger by the moment. The skeletons nearby take a step closer, their bony fingers twitching with renewed animation. Merrin, in her hidden chamber, strains against the pit floor, her voice hoarse from shouting for help. "I'm down here! Please, you have to find me!"

I descend carefully toward Merrin's voice, wings folding against my back. The runes here—freshly carved into the stone—they're feeding dark energy downward. Whatever's trapped her isn't just old ruins; someone is actively renewing this horror piece by piece. We need to map patrol routes first, identify any command center before we go deeper. Varrika, you stay at the top, keep that entrance secure. Halie and Seraphine with me—we're going down but staying tight. Merrin? I'm coming. Hold position until we reach you, don't try anything rash. This pit might have layers of traps.

I peer over the edge of the pit, my heart hammering in my chest at the sight of the pulsing runes etched into the stone walls. The air down there is thick with an ancient, oppressive energy that feels like it's seeping up from some unimaginable depth.
The runes on the walls are pulsing, their glow a sickly green that seems to writhe in time with my own frantic heartbeat. It’s a sensation I know all too well from my studies of forbidden lore—the telltale sign of fresh dark magic being layered over centuries of decay. This isn’t just some ancient ruin; someone or something is feeding power into this place, and they’re doing it with purpose.
I turn to Jeane, who has already started descending the hidden staircase with a mixture of caution and grim determination. Her eyes meet mine, and I see the same grim realization reflected there.
"Jeane," I call out in a low voice, trying to keep my tone steady despite the fear coiling in my stomach. "Those runes... they're feeding something. And it's not just old magic left over from when this tower was first built."
I take a step back from the pit’s edge, suddenly feeling vulnerable as if whatever is down there could reach out and grab me. The heavy pack of supplies I carry feels like an anchor, slowing my movements.
"Merrin," I call down into the darkness, my voice echoing off the cold stone walls. "Can you hear me? We're coming for you."
My mind races as I think about what this means. If there’s a fresh source of dark magic here, then our mission has just become infinitely more dangerous than we anticipated. The Time-Splitting Sword may be the ultimate prize, but first, we have to survive whatever horror is animating these skeletons and feeding its power into this accursed place.

Varrika's voice, usually so steady, wavers as she calls down into the pit. "Merrin! We hear you. Just... just hold on, alright?" Her grip tightens on her mace, knuckles bone-white against weathered skin. She glances over at Halie, then Seraphine. "You two stay with Jeane. I'll hold this entrance."

The dwarf takes a deep breath, trying to center herself. Apprehension gnaws at her gut—Merrin's voice echoes through the darkness, and the thought of leaving her behind... But Varrika knows her strengths, and keeping watch is hers. She plants her feet, scanning the shadows for any hint of movement. The air here feels wrong, charged with an energy she can't place. It makes her skin crawl, and old scars itch beneath her armor. "Halie," she calls out, "can you sense anything? Any... undead nearby?"

Her question hangs in the air, unanswered for now. Varrika tenses, ready to face whatever may come. The tower's magic feels alive, hungry. And down in that pit, Merrin needs them.

I feel the ward pulse intensify. Something's feeding dark energy into this place—fresh magic layered over ancient decay. That takes purpose, active power. I grip my silver holy symbol but keep it low, visible as deterrent rather than provocation. (Varrika) The runes on the walls are pulsing. Somebody or something is renewing the horror piece by piece, drawing power downward. (Seraphine) Stay alert, we're walking into a trapster's lair here. Merrin needs us, but rush reckless and we're all meat for whatever's down there. (Jeane) Varrika, hold that entrance—we need you as our anchor and fallback. Seraphine, Halie, I'll lead but follow close, stay in sight. The runes are the danger lines. I descend carefully, crossbow ready, every sense straining against the wrongness of this place. Merrin's voice echoes below—she's alive, trapped, waiting. But we don't rush into dark magic without knowing what's pulling strings.