Round 763

The air in the ancient corridor tasted of dust and decay, thick with the scent of stone that had endured for centuries only to crumble now. Varrika pressed her back against the wall, her weight balanced precariously on one foot while the other throbbed with a pain that was becoming all too familiar. The masonry groaned around them, a sound like the tower itself was sighing in its sleep and waking displeased. She craned her neck, trying to see past the shifting debris that blocked their path forward and rearward alike. "Merrin," she called out, her voice barely more than a rasp against the constant rumble of collapsing stone. "Still alive back there?"