Round 422

The sound of rushing water grew louder, a menacing whisper that slithered through the chamber's darkness. Merrin pushed herself up from the stone floor, her wiry muscles aching in protest. The fall had scattered their gear across the pit's bottom—her heavy mace lay just out of reach, its iron head glinting dully in the dim torchlight.

Varikka was struggling to stand, her face contorted with pain as she tried to put weight on her injured ankle. The halfling woman moved quickly to her side, sliding an arm around Varikka's waist to support her. "Easy there," Merrin murmured, her dark eyes scanning the pit walls for any sign of immediate danger. "Let me help you."

The ground beneath them shifted slightly, a section of the pit trap's wall collapsing inward with a cascade of debris. The Guardian's voice echoed through the corridor once more, its tone dripping with malevolent glee. "You fools; you think you can escape the tower? The Guardian awaits, and so do..."

Merrin's free hand tightened around Varikka's waist, her anxiety spiking. They needed to move, needed to find a way out before whatever was causing that rushing water found them. But with Varikka limping and their exit blocked by the collapsed wall... Her mind raced, calculating options and discarding them almost as quickly. The sound of increasing water pressure was a physical weight now, pressing in on her chest.

We have to move, she thought desperately, before this whole damn place floods.