Round 45 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 need air soon or a way out of here before whatever made those sounds decides to investigate the noise we're making... I can barely feel the wards pulsing anymore—they're like dying hearts down here in this darkness. The stones themselves are cold, and there's moisture on them now that wasn't there when I fell through. Something's changed below me since then. Something big moved through this space recently—it had to be at least my size or larger by the sound it made scraping against stone—and whatever disturbed those wards is still down here with me in this pit. My lungs are burning from holding my breath during that scrape, and I can hear your voices above but they're muffled now like you're moving away from the edge or...or hiding? No, don't hide—I need help getting out before—

I grit my teeth, crossbow trained on the skeletal horror grappling Halie. "Let her go, you pile of bones!"

The undead creature ignores me, its attention fixed on the cleric. I can see the holy symbol in her hand glowing brighter as she struggles against the skeletal grip. "Halie!" I shout. "Can you blast this thing?"

She shakes her head, grunting with effort. "Too close! Can't risk hitting me!"

I glance down into the pit, straining to hear Jeane's faint cries for help. The scraping sounds have stopped, but an uneasiness prickles my neck. "Merrin!" I call out. "We need that rope now! And someone find a way to get Jeane out of there!"

The halfling nods, already uncoiling the hemp line with deft fingers. Seraphine hovers nearby, wand at the ready but face pale and unsure. I take a deep breath, willing my hands to keep steady on the crossbow. One wrong move and Halie could be dragged down to join Jeane in that accursed pit. The wards pulse again, a low thrumming that seems to reverberate in my very bones. "This tower is bad news," I mutter. "Whatever we're after, it's not worth our lives."

But even as the words leave my mouth, I know we can't turn back now. Not with Jeane trapped below and the sword of legend waiting to be claimed. All we can do is push forward, one perilous step at a time. I lock eyes with the skeleton holding Halie, my finger tightening on the crossbow's trigger. "Last chance, you walking corpse. Or I put an arrow through your eye socket."

I cannot see what's happening below—not in this darkness—and I don't like being blinded while holding the edge of this hole with one hand and grappling a skeleton with the other. The stone under my feet feels wrong, too cold for this time of year, and the air is thick with something foul that makes my skin crawl. I need to get my holy symbol back out—it's still in my pack—and try to bless myself or this pitiful undead thing clutching me. Maybe then I can speak a word of strength and shake it off without Varrika putting a bolt through its skull and hitting me instead. This thing isn't trying to hurt me, just hold on, which is more unnerving than if it were actively hostile. We need to think this through. Another one of us falling through the floor would be disaster. If we're going to lower someone down there, it has to be controlled and with a plan. Jeane's voice is steady, but I can hear the strain in her tone. She needs air more than she needs courage right now. This whole situation feels like walking into a spiderweb blind—every step forward seems to loosen another thread. What is the point of this sword we're after? Why is it worth dying for? I'm not questioning our purpose, just...I want to know what I'm praying for when the alternative is becoming another skeleton in their ranks. Merrin! Don't drop the flare—Jeane needs light down there, and we need to see what's coming up. Varrika, ease off on the trigger. We're not shooting our way out of this. I can handle one skeleton—I've dealt with worse when drunk at a tavern brawl. Just...give me a moment. The holy symbol is heavy in my pack. I'll get it out slowly, don't rush me. The last thing we need is for me to fumble and drop something down there that could hurt Jeane or make noise that draws whatever's really in charge of these bones.