Round 548

The sound of splashing water echoed through the chamber, accompanied by Varrika’s muttered curses. “Stupid... slippery... stone!” She had misjudged her footing on the wet floor, and now found herself sprawled in a puddle, her mace clattering away across the slick ground. The dwarf woman scrambled back to her feet, water dripping from her beard and armor, just as Merrin rounded the corner. “What happened?” the halfling demanded, taking in Varrika’s soaked appearance with concern.

Varrika scowled, brushing water from her face. “I tripped,” she growled, glancing around the chamber warily. The spectral entity had vanished again, but its presence seemed to linger, a faint chill in the air. “Where did you—” She broke off as Merrin held up a dripping length of rope. “What’s that for?”