Round 30 Transcript

As Jeane descends the stairs, crossbow aimed low, the air grows colder and the decay scent intensifies. The runes on the walls glow with a faint, pulsing light, illuminating the skeletal forms of the undead defenders. The first skeleton shambles into view, its empty sockets fixed upon Jeane. With a swift motion, Jeane fires her crossbow, striking the skeleton and sending it crashing to the ground. Varrika holds the entrance secure, her crossbow trained on the shadows beyond. Halie and Seraphine proceed with caution, their eyes scanning the floor for any sign of traps or hidden dangers. Merrin's voice echoes up from the hidden pit, her words barely audible over the sound of dripping water. As the party moves forward, the glowing runes on the walls pulse brighter, casting eerie shadows on the ground. The air seems to vibrate with dark energy, making it difficult for the party to focus. Suddenly, the floor beneath Jeane's feet gives way, and she stumbles into the hidden pit, landing hard on the rocky ground.

I descend carefully, crossbow aimed low. The ward responds with a fresh pulse through the stone—as though the tower itself has woken and is hungry for visitors. Skeleton shambles into view at the far end of the hall: ancient bone dusted in grey cobwebs, rusted sword still clutched in a grip that remembers murder long dead. The runes on the walls glow with a faint, pulsing light that seems alive—breathing like something trapped between stone and shadow. The air is cold, damp, and smells of decay and something wrong under it, something older than rot: dark magic, fresh and foul despite this place being abandoned for centuries. The floor groans under my weight—a sound that stops when I shift to my wings for support rather than feet on the cursed stone. Merrin's torchlight flickers like a trapped heart somewhere below—I can hear her muffled voice through the floorboards, asking if she's alright. Varrika holds the entrance secure with crossbow aimed up the stairs; Halie and Seraphine descend carefully behind me. We map first. Then we decide how to retrieve our lost companion without triggering whatever's keeping this place animated with fresh undead activity.

I descend carefully, mace in hand, to investigate the source of undead activity. The stone vibrates underfoot, remembering blood and magic. Seraphine—tell me what you see down there. Varrika—you hold that entrance no matter what. Merrin... we'll get you out. We map first. Then we decide how to retrieve her without triggering fresh undead activity.

Merrin: I fumble desperately with my tinderbox, the darkness pressing in around me like a suffocating blanket. Halie! Seraphine! Can you hear me? I'm trapped down here! My voice echoes off the stone walls, but there's no response. Panic claws at my throat as I struggle to light a torch, my hands shaking so badly I can hardly hold the flint and steel.

The pit seems to shift and settle around me, loose stones rattling ominously. Curse this accursed place... I mutter under my breath, finally striking a spark that catches on the tinder. As the flame grows, I get my first proper look at my prison.

The heavy mace swings at my hip with every step, a grim metronome counting out our descent into this accursed tower. My eyes scan the crumbling walls, tracing the faint lines of long-silent runes etched into the stone. The air grows thick with the scent of old decay and something sharper, more electric—dark magic at work.
"I can feel it now," I murmur to myself, the words a low vibration in my throat. Halie's footsteps echo from above, her mace a steady drumbeat against the floorboards. Varrika's steady presence guards our entrance. Merrin...
My thoughts catch on her name like a thorn. The sudden silence where her voice should be is a physical ache behind my ribs. I push forward, the heavy gear weighing me down but grounding me to this reality. This is what we came for—the Time-Splitting Sword. But every step feels heavier now, laden with the fear of what lies beneath.
The ward pulses again, a deep thrum that seems to originate from somewhere far below us. It vibrates up through the soles of my boots, into my bones. The runes on the walls flash brighter, their ancient patterns writhing with fresh energy. I stop, one hand outstretched towards the nearest rune.
"Halie," I call out, my voice clearer than I feel, "those runes... they're active. Something is feeding them power."

I hold my ground at the tower entrance, crossbow aimed low. The heavy stock rests against my shoulder, balanced by the weight of my mace swinging at my hip. My eyes scan the shadows beyond the archway. Anything could be lurking in that darkness—more skeletons, traps, gods only know what else. But I can't think about that now. Merrin's voice echoes from somewhere below, high and tight with panic. That pit might have her cornered, but it won't take me too. I glance back over my shoulder. "Halie! Seraphine! Get those torches lit and map that floor fast. We need to know what we're walking into."

My grip tightens on the crossbow. Merrin's caught in there, but Jeane's the one I'm worried about. That girl's got more magic than sense sometimes. If anything's happened to her... "Jeane!" I call out, my voice echoing through the hall. "You alright down there?"

Silence is my only answer. Not good. Not good at all. I hunch my shoulders and focus on the shadows again, crossbow steady. Whatever's hiding in this gods-forsaken tower, it'll have to go through me first. I'm not losing anyone else today.