Round 655

The ground bucks like a living thing beneath them, stones cascading down the walls of the deep pit as the structure groans in its death throes. Varikka cries out, her face slamming into stone before she can catch herself, the impact driving the air from her lungs in a painful whoosh. She lies stunned for a moment, seeing stars, then the agony in her ankle registers—a sharp, twisting pain that makes her cry out involuntarily again.

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

"Help me up," she growls, extending her good hand. Merrin grabs it, pulling with all her strength. Varrika hisses as the movement jolted her ankle but manages to get upright, leaning heavily on her friend for support. The position is awkward—Merrin half-carrying the dwarf's weight while trying not to put too much pressure on her own injured wrist and still gripping the torch. The ground bucks again, sending a fresh cascade of stones tumbling down around them.

"Hold on!" Merrin shouts over the din, her voice barely audible as she struggles to keep Varikka upright and maintain their grip on the precious light source. "We need to move—fast!"

Varrika nods grimly, her face pale with pain but eyes hard with determination. "Where? The walls are closing in everywhere!"