DAY 757

Raylin takes a deep breath as he watches Yulia's gigantic corpse finally slump to the arena floor. "I...I almost can't believe it."

A much-smaller spider-woman smirks at him from a few feet away. "Oh? What part in particular seems incredible, Lord Highbranch?"

The archer blinks for a moment, his over-stressed brain needing a minute to remember what his current title is. "Hrm? Oh, it's just...I'm rather shocked that we've actually cleared Floor Nine. It was on my list of things to do, you know. I finally achieved my own Master rank from the Association a few months ago, and with the aid of the rest of our team here, it was certainly within my capabilities. But I suppose I assumed it would still be another year or two away. Perhaps when my wife resumed her interest in challenging, I suppose."

"Hrmm? Well, I don't think it was all that terrible. We do have quite the team here, as you say." Weaver Pizola gestures at the other three warriors spread across the room, most of whom look as tired out as Raylin does. Taylim stands nearby, always ready to defend his liege, while Sweet ended up on the opposite end of the arena, her long daggers dripping with arachne blood. Meanwhile the Highbranch's resident healer, Paladin Barlond Tanglethorn, remains by the arena's door. He had needed to move the least during the fierce guardian battle, but the magic that transferred pain between himself, his enemies, and his team had certainly taken its toll on him. In recognition of that, the elf makes a point of responding to Pizola's statement.

"I doubt you would have said as much had you tried this floor when it first opened, madame. We have the advantage now of months of Challengers attempting the floor, and several even beating it. Without their knowledge this fight would have been far more difficult. ...That said, I still struggle to believe that this is the first time you have attempted to clear a dungeon."

Sweet nods in agreement, as the plains gnoll returns to the rest of the party. "I must concur. It's not simply your magic skills, which are exemplary. But your...shall I say, your disposition, mistress? It's understandable that you might not be as thrown off by enemies of the eight-legged variety as many others are, but most dungeon novices would still be rather more...affected by the trials this floor has put us through."

Taylim has his own two coppers to contribute. "Not to mention that this makes nine floors cleared in five days. That is a blistering pace by most standards. Nine unique floors, at that! Most Challengers don't match that rate even when just repeating a few of their favorites."

"Affected? Oh dearies, you have me all wrong." Pizola turns in a circle on her many legs and gestures at the arena walls with both hands. "I find this all marvelous! Now, I will confess, the earlier floors didn't quite do much for me. The ghost tunnels on Floor Three? I've seen haunted house displays for children almost as scary. And I imagine the drop on Floor Six would be quite terrifying to those who did not grow up in a similar environment. But the mimic castle on the previous floor, and this...delightful insectoid horror show? Oh, the dungeon master has clearly been learning to properly use the arts of presentation to set a stage. Why, the lighting! The atmosphere! And so much of it practical effects, too! Certainly the lights and mists are created from magical sources, but so many others would resort to pure illusion magic to produce such a display!"

Raylin relaxes the grip on his bow so that he can scratch his head. "You...admire the stage effects, Weaver Pizola?"

"Oh, it's just wonderful! Now, displays designed to terrify weren't my normal fare, of course. But we did do the occasional seasonal event and, oh my, I wish I could take notes for my own performances. Bit late for that now, I suppose."

The human lord chuckles at her attitude. "I...suppose I can see it from that angle, although it is still difficult to appreciate when a fifteen-foot-tall arachne is trying to bite your head off. But, to return to our success! We are now among the few parties to have cleared Floor Nine, and we're now free to visit Floor Ten - which is the one you truly wished to see, if I'm not mistaken? That said, would you like to call it a day here and return tomorrow, after we've rested?"

The elderly drider frowns. "Psht, nonsense. We're all unharmed, and by accounts Floor Ten is only partially a combat floor, is it not? I for one can't wait to see it - and if this old woman can handle one more floor, I'm sure the rest of you youngsters can keep up."

Sweet's snout reveals a toothy grin, perhaps at the thought of being called a youngster for the first time in years. "I believe we're up for at least an investigation at the least - if you agree, Lord Highbranch?"

Raylin rubs his chin. "Well, I do...there is another issue, though. While technically there's nothing stopping us from proceeding to Floor Ten - by the divine rules commanding dungeons, it cannot block us - it may be considered impolite. Floor Ten does have that 'public audience' aspect to it, for which it has scheduled challenge times. I don't think we're currently at one of those scheduled times, and the dungeon may consider it rude for us to proceed forward anyhow."

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Before anyone else can respond to that, a wooden signpost grows from the center of the arena floor. Stepping forward, Taylim reads it out loud for the rest of the party. "Hrm, a direct message for us. 'I went and scrounged up an audience and our special guest stars while...y'all...were clearing Floor Nine. So give it a spin - I wanna see how the old biddy does myself.'" He pauses, before turning back towards Pizola. "In the dungeon's words, madame."

Pizola answers with a cackle-like laugh. "Hahaha, well, who are we to disappoint an audience, eh!? I'm not used to performing for a betting audience, though - I hope they'll be betting on me, at least!"

"I'm sure they have faith in the local nobility to see themselves through any difficulty." Raylin puffs up his chest before nodding. "We'll just have to make sure that confidence is well-placed. Onward, then!"

As the party takes the exit portal away from Floor Nine, they find themselves somewhat surprised to end up atop a relatively small wooden platform suspended dozens of meters above the floor. Even more than that, really, when they look closer and realize the 'floor' is little more than a network of blades, and the true solid floor is so far below that they can barely see it. They had heard rumors of Floor Ten's design, of course, but the descriptions do little justice compared to seeing it in person.

Their elven paladin looks particularly glum as he studies the ground below. "In a sense, a fall here is perhaps equally fatal as one into the nearly-endless abyss on Floor Six. Even if you survive the landing and the puncture wounds, you'll likely be beyond my range to heal. And even if you are not, I can't heal a puncture wound when the blade causing it is still inside you."

Taylim nods as he pats his bottomless bag. "We do have rope, of course, but a fall here would certainly be life-threatening at the least." The mention of rope causes him to look up at the thick strand connecting their current platform to the next, and he shudders slightly. "This...is certainly a greater challenge than the climbs on Floor Nine, as well."

Meanwhile, Pizola's attention is on something else entirely. "Ah, look over there! The seating section - and there's people coming in to take seats! How did they get in over there, though?"

Raylin takes a glance before answering. "There's a portal in the inn on Floor Five, I believe. I've never used it myself, though - anyone else?"

"I have." Barlond briefly raises a hand. "I've wagered a bet once or twice. If we wish to be polite, we'll wait until the audience has had time to get settled before we begin. There will be lights activated above us when the show is, ah, officially ready to kick off."

"Oh, very considerate. I suppose I don't mind taking a few moments to stretch." Pizola begins to lean to the left and then the right. "Normally this sort of thing would be child's play to myself, but I suppose I haven't put on a performance like this in quite a while."

Raylin takes a deep breath as he considers the tightrope leading forward. "Yes, I...think I could also use a moment to, ah...limber up."

There's some definite noise of people talking and laughing from the audience section that reaches the party, although none of them can make out exactly what's being said. They all notice, however, when a magical crystal light suddenly activates above them and the next platform, and the sound of drums begins to echo across the chamber. Sweet's ears twitch back and forth as she seeks out the noise. "Sounds like...four different sets of drummers, playing from alcoves around the cavern. Perhaps hidden behind those big, draping cloths that have been hung everywhere."

"Not a threat - just here to aid us in our dramatic courage, my dear!" Pizola gives Sweet a smile before turning to the rest of the party. "It seems the show is on - who would like to begin? Traveling all at once would probably be a mite risky, skilled as I'm sure we all are."

"I'll handle it, my lady. And if any threats are waiting for us on the next platform, rest assured I shall see to them." Despite her words Sweet ensures that both of her daggers are sheathed, before lining herself up with the tightrope. Rather than approach it with caution, however, the large gnoll instead charges at it at full speed, padded steps landing on the cord with complete confidence. Halfway through her gait changes somewhat, turning into an all-fours run, but it changes her speed not at all. In only a few moments the bodyguard's crossed the full distance, and the sound of cheering makes its way from the stands.

"The rope and platform are secure! I'll do my best to offer a helping hand if any require it!" Sweet shouts back to the rest of the group, and Raylin steps forward next.

"I am certainly not taking it at that speed, but if it can handle Sweet's...impressive size, I'm sure it can handle the rest of us." With that said he steps forward, and although he only takes one step at a time, his movements are nearly as confident as the Bloodletter's. It is noticeable as he goes that the man refuses to look down, and he does have to pause from time to time to steady himself, but it's still less than a minute before he finds himself next to Sweet.

"Well, I would have never expected a nobleman to have such grace! Suppose I can't let myself be upstaged by the youngsters now, can I?" With a laugh Pizola steps forward, and the despite the fact that the drider is likely the most massive member of the party, certainly being much wider than even Sweet, the elderly performer seems to have no trouble at all. All eight legs walk as if she were crossing a wide sidewalk, and although she's not particularly speedy about it, Pizola is soon on the other side without a hair out of place.

The final two men are somewhat less graceful about it. Barlond does possess a measure of elven grace, but his broad muscles are more suited for feats of strength and endurance rather than agility, and the paladin does have to stop to maintain his balance fairly regularly. Taylim meanwhile takes the extra effort of storing away most of his equipment into his bag beforehand in order to reduce his weight, and still has the hardest time of all five. Still, eventually he makes it across, and the cheering from both the audience and the others on the platform picks up.

Just as it dies down however, another light turns on, illuminating the next platform. This one is arranged slightly differently than the first - for one, there's three ropes leading to the next platform, each placed about two feet apart. But perhaps more importantly...on the rightmost rope, there's a figure standing halfway across the distance.

A figure notable for their brightly colored outfit, smiling white-and-black mask, two arms...and six legs.

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