Round 427

The noxious gas had them both coughing, eyes streaming, lungs burning with every breath. Varrika leaned heavily on Merrin, her face pale and drawn, dark eyes wide with pain and fear. "My ankle," she ground out through clenched teeth. "It's bad." She shifted her weight experimentally, wincing visibly. "I can walk, but not fast. Not over this mess." The sound of grinding stone echoed from behind them—a stark reminder that their predicament was only worsening.

Merrin half-dragged the dwarf forward, both of them staggering through the narrowing corridor. Every step was a calculated risk on the shifting floor, every moment a race against the crumbling structure behind them. The halfling woman's mind raced, weighing their options against the encroaching danger. They needed to move, to find solid ground before the entire place came crashing down around them—but with Varrika's injured ankle limiting her mobility, every step forward was a gamble. The corridor stretched ahead, dark and foreboding, offering no clear escape route.

Merrin glanced back over her shoulder, eyes widening as another section of ceiling gave way in a shower of stone fragments. "We have to keep moving," she urged, her voice tight with barely contained panic. "The whole place is coming down."