Round 379

The sound is unmistakable now—a low rumble that seems to come from everywhere at once, growing louder by the second. Merrin feels it vibrating through her hands where they grip the rough stone wall for support. She glances sideways at Varrika, seeing the dwarf woman’s jaw tighten as she raises her mace, muscles coiled and ready. They’ve faced worse than a crumbling tower, maybe, but right now? Right now, Merrin would take her chances with a dozen bandits over this ancient stone trying to shake them apart.

Varikka’s dark eyes scan the shadows, searching for movement or any sign of what’s causing the rumble. But before she can even speak, the sound shifts—the low rumble splitting into a thousand tiny cracks as fissures spiderweb across the walls and ceiling. Dust pours down like snow, coating everything in a thick layer of grey powder that makes Merrin cough, her grip on the wall tightening as the ground beneath them begins to tilt. She feels Varikka’s arm muscles flex under her hand as the dwarf woman struggles to keep her balance, both of them pressed against the wall now as the corridor groans and creaks around them.

Merrin’s eyes widen as she sees it—the entire floor ahead of them is collapsing, stone and debris sliding downwards into darkness. The sound of rushing water grows louder, and she realizes with a jolt that they’re not just in a crumbling tower; they’re in a crumbling tunnel above a rushing river. She pulls Varikka closer, her voice tight but steady. "We need to move—now."