Round 852

Merrin lunged forward instinctively, her wiry arms wrapping around Varikka’s waist just in time to prevent a fall. "Varikka!" The rogue gasped, her dark eyes searching the woman’s face for signs of pain or distress. The dwarf’s injured ankle had given out completely, and Merrin found herself struggling to maintain her balance on the precarious stone ledge with Varikka’s full weight resting against her smaller frame.

Each heavy impact from beyond the partially open door sent a fresh wave of fear through Merrin—the Guardian was breaking through, and they had no way to stop it. With Varikka’s exhausted body pressed against hers, Merrin struggled to distribute the weight evenly across her own tired muscles. "Stay still," she whispered urgently. "I’ve got you." The adrenaline of their near-drowning escape was wearing thin, replaced by a gnawing exhaustion and the persistent ache in her skull from the noxious gas exposure.

Elric’s torch flame flickered ominously as it cast shadows across the ancient runes on the walls. The fast-moving underground river flowed through the heart of the tower beneath a collapsed section of floor, its rushing water an unsettling reminder of their recent near-death experience.