Round 498

Merrin's grip on the slick rock face tightens as she clings to the precarious ledge, water lapping at her boots. "Varikka!" she gasps, turning back desperately. "Your ankle—" The dwarf warrior is already moving, crowbar held ready despite her obvious pain. "Still breathing. Now get us off this ledge before we drown or that thing catches up." The scraping sound intensifies behind the blocked passage, metal claws searching for a way through.