Round 121

Varrika's voice was barely audible over the rumble of collapsing stone. "Merrin!" The dwarf woman spat grit from her mouth, squinting through the haze at the shifting pile of rubble blocking their only exit. The whole damn tower was coming down around their ears, and there wasn't a single thing she could do about it except brace herself against the wall and pray to every deity she'd ever heard of. She could feel the stone vibrating beneath her boots, grinding and groaning like a beast in its death throes. Another tremor hit, strong enough to make her stumble sideways, and she saw Merrin across the chamber clutching her crossbow with white-knuckle intensity. The halfling woman's eyes were wide and alert, scanning every inch of the perimeter for movement even as dust coated her face and hair.

Varrika knew they needed to move, needed to find a way out before the entire structure came crashing down on them. But the thought of stepping into that swirling dust cloud, blind and vulnerable, made her stomach churn with fear. "What do you see?" She called out, voice barely audible over the rumble of collapsing stone. "Anything moving in that mess?"*