Round 44 Transcript

Halie's descent into the pit triggers a sudden, deafening screech as the wards detect her presence. The air around her shimmers with dark energy, and a cold breeze whispers down from above. As Halie raises her mace, a bony hand grasps her shoulder, pulling her back just inches from the edge of the pit. The holy symbol on her person seems to burn brighter in response to the undead's touch. Jeane's voice echoes up from below, laced with desperation, "What...what's happening? What's that thing?"

The group holds its collective breath as a skeletal figure emerges from the darkness, its eyes fixed on Halie. The air is heavy with malevolent intent. Immediate consequences and decisions:

• Will Varrika fire her crossbow or keep her finger on the trigger? How will Seraphine and Merrin respond to the skeletal threat? What will Jeane do next in her desperate bid for escape?

I squint into the darkness, finger tightening on the crossbow's trigger as the skeletal figure emerges. Its eyes gleam with a malevolent intelligence, fixated on Halie. I mutter under my breath, "Damned things. Thought we'd left 'em behind in the catacombs."

The air grows colder, heavy with an ancient evil. I can feel it seeping into my bones, making my skin crawl. But I've faced worse than a few rotters in my time. I keep my voice steady as I call out to Jeane, "Stay sharp down there. We'll get you out."

The wards are barely pulsing now, and I can hear something massive moving in the darkness below me. The air is thin down here—the pit must be deeper than I thought—and my head's starting to ache from the pressure change. Whatever made those scraping sounds is getting closer with each passing moment. I need you to drop a rope or find a way to lower me up without collapsing the floor again, but do it quickly before whatever's down here decides I'm worth investigating. And if any of you hear movement above—those skeletons might be coming back for seconds after Merrin spooked them last time. Keep your voices low and your weapons ready. This tower is older than my kind, and I don't fancy becoming an undead snack while waiting for rescue.

I descend carefully toward the pit's edge, mace ready but lowered, holding my silver holy symbol outwards in broad, reassuring movements. The wards' slow pulse feels deliberate somehow—wrong. "Jeane! Can you hear me?" My voice echoes back from the stone walls. Varrika, I know you're good with that crossbow, but keep your distance unless something gets close to us here at the edge. Merrin, be ready with those flares—if we need light down there, we'll need it fast. This feels wrong. The air is heavy, not just old stone and rot, but something else. Something deliberate. We can't afford to rush this. Whatever's feeding on those wards, whatever stopped moving when Merrin made noise...it's listening now. Waiting. I don't want to lead any of us into a slaughter, especially not the young ones. We need to think this through. Jeane? Sweetheart? We're here. We hear you. Hold tight—we'll find a way down or a way to get you up. Stay calm. No stupid heroics. I know how much you hate feeling trapped, but we need you alive and whole for what's coming next. The tower doesn't give up its secrets easily.