Round 36 Transcript

At The base of a crumbling stone tower, the pressure shifts from waiting to immediate risk. The ward answers the party's presence with a fresh pulse through the stone and no one can mistake it for safety. The nearest sign of danger is now Skeletons: Undead remnants of the tower's original defenders, now animated by dark magic to endlessly guard their ancient home.. Someone has to answer that change now.

I crouch at the edge of the pit, peering into the darkness below. The scraping sound echoes up from the depths, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. I grip my mace tighter. "Jeane? Can you hear me?" I call out, trying to keep my voice steady. A faint "Yes" drifts up from the shadows. "We're going to get you out," I promise, though uncertainty gnaws at me. The tower's magic feels wrong, hungry in a way I've never encountered before. Whatever lies at the heart of this place, retrieving the Time-Splitting Sword just became far more dangerous than any of us could have imagined. I look to Merrin and Seraphine, seeing my own unease reflected in their faces. "We need a plan," I say grimly. "And we need to move fast before whatever's down there decides to climb up here."

The floor trembles again—somewhere far below me in this cursed hole I've fallen into. The runes pulse with that same lazy, hungry rhythm. I test the floor carefully this time before shifting my weight; solid enough, barring whatever ancient mechanisms might still function down here. My torchlight cuts a pathetic circle of visibility in the gloom below. 'Halie? Merrin?' My voice echoes back to me, thin and uncertain in the enclosed space. 'Anyone? Can you see where I fell from up there?'

Then I hear it—the sound that freezes my blood colder than any demon's kiss: a scraping, dragging noise, coming from somewhere below me. Something down here is moving. 'Damn this tower,' I mutter under my breath. The wards aren't just pulsing—they're feeding something. And now I'm trapped in its belly. I draw my heavy mace, the cold iron comforting despite its weight. 'Whatever you are down there,' I call out, voice steady despite the fear coiling cold in my gut, 'this isn't your night.' I take a cautious step back, eyes never leaving the darkness below. My torch is burning too fast; I've got maybe an hour left before it's gone and I'm groping in pitch black. An hour to find a way out or wait for rescue—or whatever makes that scraping sound decides to climb up here. 'Find a way down here,' I call upward, louder now. 'Before my torch burns out, or whatever's below gets curious enough to—'

The scraping stops. Silence falls, thick and waiting. I stand perfectly still, listening hard. Nothing moves in the circle of light from my torch. But something is definitely awake now. I don't wait for it to climb up. I back away from the pit's edge as fast as caution allows, scanning the room above for any sign of stairs, hidden doors—anything that might lead down here or let me escape this tomb's hungry embrace before it swallows me whole.

I crouch at the edge of the pit, my heart hammering against my ribs as I peer into the abyss where Jeane has fallen. The darkness is absolute, save for the faint glow of her torch far below, a single point of light in an endless void. The air here feels different, heavy with a malevolent intent that raises the fine hairs on my arms. It's more than just ancient ruin; it's a living thing, a predator waiting to strike.
"I hear you," I call down, my voice echoing eerily off the cold stone walls. "Are you injured? Can you see any way out?"
My eyes dart to the runes etched into the floor around us. They pulse with an unsettling rhythm, like a heartbeat. Each flash is accompanied by a low thrumming vibration that seems to resonate through the very bones of the tower. This isn't mere decay—this place is feeding on something dark and powerful.
I turn my head, listening intently for the sound Jeane mentioned. There it is again—a faint, scraping noise from deep within the pit. It's slow, deliberate, as if something large is dragging itself upward through centuries of dust and rot.
"Sweetheart, whatever that sound is, it's getting closer," I whisper, my voice tight with fear. I look back at Varrika and Merrin, who are scanning the room for any sign of the undead guardians this place is said to hold. Their faces are grim, etched with the same dread that coils in my gut.
"We need a plan," I say, more to myself than to them. My mind races, trying to recall every scrap of lore and history about this accursed tower. Legends spoke of a great evil sealed within its depths, an entity older than any kingdom. And now, with the wards alive and feeding, that legend feels like a terrible premonition made real.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. The Time-Splitting Sword awaits us somewhere in this labyrinth of stone and shadow, but first we must retrieve our fallen comrade. And before we can do that, we need to understand the true nature of the threat we now face.