Round 43 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 hear scraping sounds from below—something large is moving down there now. The wards are barely pulsing; something's draining them. I need air soon or a way out of here before whatever made those sounds decides to investigate the noise we're making above. I have no light left and no idea how deep this pit goes.

I descend carefully toward the pit's edge, raising my mace as I go. The wards' pulse has slowed now—deliberate somehow, waiting. I hold out my holy symbol, a silver disk etched with prayers to the Goddess of Light. "Jeane! Can you hear me? We're here. We're coming." The torch flames flicker wildly, casting dancing shadows on the walls that seem to twist into shapes just beyond recognition. Something large is definitely moving down there now, something that makes my skin crawl even through my armor. I don't like this one bit.

I peer over the edge of the pit, my heart pounding in my ears. "Jeane! Can you hear me?" I call down into the darkness. The wards' pulsing slows to a trickle, and the air grows colder with each passing moment. Whatever made that scraping sound has stopped moving, but I know better than to think that means it's gone. I fumble with the tinderbox, trying to ignite another flare to cast some light into the abyss. Varrika lowers her crossbow slightly, her finger hovering over the trigger. Seraphine crouches at the edge, peering down into the unknown. "Jeane?" I call again, my voice echoing off the stone walls. "We're coming for you."