Round 551

Varrika's scarred hands clench into fists as she grits her teeth against the pain in her ankle. "Fuck this," she growls, shifting her weight to test the stability of the stone ledge beneath them. The water laps at their knees now, cold and insistent, and something large moves beneath the surface—tentacles, maybe, or worse. "Merrin!" she snaps, grabbing the halfling woman's arm. "We need a plan that doesn't involve drowning in whatever the hell these things are." The dwarf woman's eyes scan the chamber, searching for any alternative to their current predicament. The walls groan overhead, and more debris falls into the rising water with a series of splashes. "There!" Varrika points to a shadowed alcove on the far side of the room—a potential escape route, or at least a slightly less dangerous vantage point. "We can make it if we move fast. Help me across."