Round 158

The wardstone's answer is immediate and violent—a pulse through the stone that makes the entire corridor groan like a dying beast. The walls weep dust, the floor buckles slightly, and Jeane staggers against the wall, her barrier spell flickering so violently that the air itself ripples with distortion. "FUCK!" she snarls, hands flying out to catch herself against the surface—an instinctive motion that presses her breasts hard against her arms, trapped milk leaking through her shirt in fresh streams between her tits and armpit. The spell is shredding her concentration cell by cell, each pulse demanding more energy than she can safely channel without... consequences.

"Everyone DOWN!" Silra shouts, already moving to tackle Hera around the waist. The elf hits the floor hard, momentum carrying them both into a slide across the lubricant-slick tiles toward the far wall. Silra wraps herself around Hera protectively as they skid—her body shielding the civilian from the worst of it. Halie scrambles backward, burned hands screaming...

The wardstone pulses again, louder this time, and something structural gives way deeper in the building with a sound like teeth breaking. They have minutes at best before this entire floor collapses.