Round 596

The stone groaned like a beast waking from long slumber as they ran. Merrin's grip on Varrika tightened instinctively with each tremor—harder than the last, solid enough to rattle teeth. They were running now, driven by that primal need to escape even as rational thought screamed there was nowhere safe in this damn place. "Where are we running to?" Merrin gasped, her voice barely heard over the roar of falling stone.

Varrika's jaw remained set, a grim line against the pain that lanced through her with every step. Her good hand tightened around the haft of her mace, seeking comfort in its familiar weight even as she knew it offered little defense against the very structure trying to consume them. "We keep moving," she growled back, her voice rough with effort and something deeper—fear perhaps, or maybe just the certainty that stopping meant death.

The wall! Merrin suddenly cried out, pointing ahead where a section of stone had partially collapsed, creating a narrow gap barely wide enough for a halfling. They stumbled toward it, the ground shifting beneath them like a living thing trying to shake them off its back. Varrika half-fell through the opening, her injured ankle screaming in protest as Merrin followed, pushing them both through just as another tremor sent a cascade of stones tumbling behind them.

They sprawled onto the ground on the other side, gasping for breath. The air here was thick with dust and the smell of ancient stone, but at least the floor seemed relatively stable—relative being the key word in this cursed place. Merrin helped Varrika sit up, her expression concerned as she examined the dwarf's ankle. "It's not broken," Varrika said grimly, "but it's sprained. Badly." She met Merrin's eyes. "We need to find a way out of here quickly. I can't fight like this."