Round 663

Merrin's fingers found purchase in the stone face, her heart pounding in her chest as she clung to the precarious ledge above the rising waters. The noxious gas exposure had left her head throbbing and her vision blurring at the edges, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand—keeping both herself and Varrika alive.

Varrika lay sprawled beside her, the dwarf woman's face etched with pain and effort as she fought against the agony in her sprained ankle. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain shooting up her leg, but she gritted her teeth, refusing to cry out. Her eyes scanned the darkness above them, searching for any sign of a way out.

"I can see a passage," Merrin reported, her voice strained as she craned her neck back. "But I don't know if it'll hold our weight." The halfling's dark eyes narrowed as she studied the narrow opening overhead. It seemed to continue upward, but the stones were precariously balanced, and rubble choked much of the space.

Varikka shifted her position slightly, immediately regretting the motion as fresh pain lanced through her ankle. She could feel the cold water lapping at her feet now, and the thought of drowning again sent a fresh wave of terror through her. "How far above us?" she gasped, her voice barely audible over the sound of rushing water.

Merrin's grip on the stone face tightened as she felt the ledge shift beneath them. "Too far to jump," she said firmly. "We'll have to climb." She began to inch her way upward, searching for handholds in the rough rock. The noxious gas exposure made her head spin, but she pushed through the discomfort, determined to find a way out of this nightmare.

Varrika watched Merrin's progress with growing admiration and concern. The halfling moved with surprising agility, her small size allowing her to navigate the narrow spaces with ease. But Varrika knew that her own bulk and injured ankle would make the climb far more difficult—and dangerous.

As Merrin reached the edge of the passage above, she paused, testing the stability of the stones with her free hand. The rock shifted ominously beneath her touch, but it seemed to hold. She glanced down at Varrika, her expression a mix of determination and worry.

"You first," Merrin called down. "I'll spot you from up here." Varrika took a deep breath, steeling herself for the ordeal ahead. With careful movements, she began to inch her way upward, using her hands and good foot to find purchase in the cracks and crevices of the rock face.

The climb was agonizingly slow, each movement sending fresh jolts of pain through her injured ankle. But Varrika gritted her teeth and pressed on, driven by a desperate need to escape the rising waters below. As she neared the top, Merrin reached down to help pull her up onto the ledge.

They lay there for a moment, gasping for breath, as the water continued to rise beneath them. The passage above was narrow and dark, but it offered their only hope of escape. With a nod of understanding between them, they began to crawl forward into the unknown depths of the tower, leaving the rising waters behind.

The stone floor of the new corridor was slick with moisture and covered in a thick layer of dust, suggesting that this part of the tower had been sealed away for a very long time. The air here was stale and musty, but at least it was free from the noxious gas that had been plaguing them.

As they moved deeper into the corridor, Merrin's keen eyes spotted something glinting in the dim light ahead—a metal door, partially hidden by centuries of dust and debris. She nudged Varrika gently, pointing it out.

"Looks like we've found our next challenge," Merrin murmured, her voice barely audible in the oppressive silence of the ancient hallway. "Any ideas on how to open that thing?"

Varrika's gaze fixed on the door, her brow furrowing in concentration as she tried to ignore the persistent throb of pain in her ankle. She knew they couldn't afford to rest here for long—not with the rising waters still lapping at the entrance to this corridor behind them.

"I've got a better idea," Varrika growled, her hand tightening around the handle of her mace. "We smash our way through." Before Merrin could protest, she was already limping towards the door, her injured ankle forgotten in the heat of the moment.

With a roar of effort, Varrika swung her mace at the ancient metal barrier. The impact sent a jolt of pain shooting up her arm, but the satisfying sound of bending metal filled her ears. She struck again and again, each blow chipping away at the centuries-old lock until finally, with a groan of protest, the door gave way.

As the dust settled around them, Merrin and Varrika exchanged grim smiles. They had escaped the rising waters, but the tower still held countless dangers—and they were running out of time to find the legendary Time-Splitting Sword before the entire place came crashing down around their ears.