Round 450

The iron ring set into the stone wall felt cold and solid beneath Merrin's probing fingers. She tugged at it experimentally, half-hoping for a hidden mechanism to open some secret passage - but only succeeded in showering herself with a fresh layer of rust flakes. "Dead end," she reported, wiping her hand on her already soaked shirt and moving back to Varikka's side.

The dwarf woman was peering down into the waters below, her expression troubled. Merrin came closer, following her gaze. In the churning depths, something large moved - too large to be a fish or even a man. It circled lazily beneath them, occasionally breaking the surface with a splash that sent water spraying up onto their ledge.

Merrin felt her stomach drop. "What the hell is that?"

Varikka shook her head slowly. "I don't know. But it's not natural." She met Merrin's gaze, her eyes grim. "And I have a feeling it wasn't put here by accident."

The water lapped at their feet again, colder now as the adrenaline evaporated. Merrin clutched her crossbow tighter, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement above or below them. They were trapped on a ledge with no visible escape route, pursued by something monstrous and possibly magical, in a tower that was actively trying to kill them.

"Great," she muttered under her breath. "Just fucking great."