Round 36 Transcript

At The base of a crumbling stone tower, the shared situation sharpens into an immediate decision point. What is already in motion no longer supports waiting or circling. The next concrete move will determine how this scene changes.

I grab my holy symbol and focus on its divine power, trying to sense what's happening inside. The wards are definitely feeding now—something ancient and hungry. Whatever Jeane saw up there isn't natural. We can't just sit here debating while whatever's inside gets stronger from our presence. I say we move fast: Merrin and Varrika scout the ground floor, looking for a way in that doesn't set off everything; Seraphine stays with me to prepare defensive magic; Jeane keeps watch from cover above. We have maybe ten minutes before whoever—or whatever—owns this place decides if we're guests or dinner. No heroics, no solo runs. We stick together and we move deliberately.

Varrika grips her mace tighter, the rough wood of the handle worn smooth by countless battles. She scans the tower's facade, her keen eyes searching for any sign of movement in the shadows. "Halie," she grunts, "those wards are more than just defenses. They're feeding on something inside, and whatever it is, it knows we're here now."

I see them now—feel them—the wards aren't just defenses, they're feeding. Something upstairs is aware of us and hungry. We have minutes before whatever's in that tower decides how to respond. We go in. Not because I'm reckless or brave—I need that sword for reasons only I understand fully—but because delaying lets it prepare. I signal Merrin: ground floor entry, now. Varrika can test the door hinges for noise, Halie has her ward-clearing ready if we trigger anything obvious, and Seraphine's got firepower if it all goes wrong fast. We're not tourists here to gawk at ghosts—we're thieves in a demon's pantry, and I intend to steal its silverware before it notices we're eating off its fine china.