Round 645

The corridors branched ahead like a dark question, one path leading down into suffocating shadow, the other coiling upward into unknowable space. Varrika stood at the crossroads, her face a map of concentration as she traced the ancient carvings with calloused fingers. The air here was thick with the dust of forgotten empires, heavy with the weight of choices made long ago. Merrin moved to her side, her thief's eyes scanning the patterns that seemed to writhe in the torchlight. "What do you see?" she asked softly, her voice barely disturbing the oppressive quiet. Varrika shifted her grip on the mace, wincing as her sprained ankle protested the movement. "Hard to say," she admitted, her amber eyes narrowing as they studied a particularly complex symbol. "Both paths have teeth." She leaned closer, the flickering light casting stark shadows across her scarred features. "There's something here... a warning maybe? Or a choice we shouldn't make?" Merrin moved into the dwarf woman's shadow, her smaller frame easily fitting against the larger figure. She studied the carving with quick eyes and a furrowed brow, trying to read the ancient language etched in stone. The chanting grew louder, echoing through the tunnels like a rising tide of malice. Varikka's fingers slipped on the rusted rail, leaving smears of blood. "Merrin," she said, her voice tight with pain and urgency. "If you can reach it... grab my mace. We don't have much time."