Round 654

Varrika hit the ground hard, her face smacking against stone before she could brace herself. The impact drove the air from her lungs in a painful whoosh, and for a moment, she lay stunned, seeing stars. Then the agony in her ankle registered—a sharp, twisting pain that made her cry out involuntarily.

Merrin was at her side almost immediately, torch held high to illuminate the darkness below them. "Varikka! Are you—" The cleric's voice broke off as she saw the angle of the dwarf's ankle, already swelling grotesquely in the flickering light. Varrika pushed herself up slowly, one hand braced on her mace, the other clutching her injured foot. When she looked at Merrin, her expression was a mixture of pain and something else—embarrassment? Resentment?

"Help me up," she growled, extending her good hand. Merrin grabbed it, pulling with all her strength. Varrika hissed as the movement jolted her ankle but managed to get upright, leaning heavily on her friend for support. The position was awkward—Merrin half-carrying the dwarf's weight while trying not to put too much pressure on the injured foot.

"What now?" Merrin asked, looking around at the precarious ledge they stood on and the yawning darkness below. Varrika's jaw set in a grim line. "We keep moving," she said firmly. "There has to be another way out of this tomb before we drown like rats."