The Fighting Woman slammed the sheathed sword into the wall for what must of been some dozenth time in the last ten minutes. Or at least some multiple of four I'm sure, the Wizard surmised clutching his ringing skull while curling against the only unmoving wall in the room.
Separated from their group during a scuffle, the Fighting Woman and the Wizard found themselves lost deep within the old lich's tomb. And now after one wrong turn too many, the pair find themselves sealed in a room with the walls inching their way in.
Very slowly inching, the Wizard thinks. Surely, we'll be out of torchlight and oxygen before- The sheath clatters against the pock-marked stone wall again. He shoots up from his side and speaks for the first time in many minutes. "Would you cut that out?!"
The Fighting Woman looks back at the no longer fetally positioned man sheepishly. "Do you want to get out of here?" she asks. There's an earnestness to her voice that leaves the Wizard peeved.
"Well as a matter of fact I would love to," he snaps, "and if I could do it with my hearing intact, I'd frankly be beyond extatic! However, in case it wasn't clear, we're in a sealed, rapidly shrinking stone room! So if we're to suffocate and be crushed, I'd like to do it in peace." The Wizard takes a deep breath before laying his head in his hands and slipping his fingers under his hat's brim.
The Fighting Woman shrugs and begins tracing the mortar between the bricks with an ungloved hand.
This was not the first time the Wizard had been in a bind. A seasoned scholar, adventurer, and perhaps, in his estimation, one of the only true polymaths, he'd seen a lot. He'd run from Saraen wolves, been accepted into the 7th Circle of Prepared Casters, outsmarted a cave troll with nothing more than his wits, a cliff, and one cast of Intensify Gravity, and performed countless other acts of daring and cleverness. Truly, he is no stranger to this sort of activity. But now he's in a lich's tomb, a most despicable den of the greatest evils. He'd used his last spells in that run-in with a couple wights. This was a bind tighter than he'd ever been in before. Lifting his head from his hands an inch to look at the slowly creeping stone, he has a thought: Now I'm going to die, and all of I've done has gone to waste. He leans his head back against what was once the door, laughs a weak, incredulous laugh, and shuts his eyes. His mind's eye fills with the image of his tower's study filled with grimoires and tomes. It rains gently out the window, the drops tapping against glass, as he glances up from his spellbook out to the cloudy sky and smiles. Good weather for a day in the study. He feels himself begin to tear up. Why had he ever decided to go back to pursuing riches and arcane secrets? Why couldn't he remain comfortable in his home? Why did the money need to run dry? Why didn't he memorize another casting of Warp? Worst of all, why did he need to get lost with the-
The Fighting Woman's blade clangs against stone wall. The Wizard leaps up to his feet and storms over.
"Would you stop fucking banging your infernal fucking sword against the god damned fucking wall!?!" he screams, frantically gripping the sword to rip it from her grip.
The Fighting Woman looks at the feeble, crying man trying to tear her sword away from her. She considers letting go just to give the poor man a win before nixing the thought and simply replying.
"I found an exit."
"You did?" the wizard asks breathlessly. "But it's a trap in a lich's tomb? Why would a trap have an-"
"Exit? I imagine it was built during construction. The trap's non-magical and, were the trap meant to kill us, it certainly could have done so by now."
The Wizard releases the sword and wipes away his tears, one part embarrassed and two parts bewildered. "But why would a lich create a non-magical, non-lethal trap? How else do you disuade interlopers?"
The Fighting Woman chooses not to dwell on the word interlopers, reloops her blade on her belt, and turns to the wall, tugging at a particular brick. "I assume it's for a few reasons. Likely, the lich doesn't want dead bodies giving away trap locations. It's not like he can clean every trap that gets used." The brick gives way, and she begins tugging at another. "Next, this trap moves slow and has air circulation. It's as though he wants us to drain our time and resources, such as your magic, in order to weaken us and our expedition." The second brick gives. The wall weakened, she steps back and drops her shoulder. "Lastly, I think he'd rather not use a trap that can be disspelled easily. You can't dispel stone." She charges forth with a yell straight into the wall. The bricks turn as she burst through and tumbles forward into the space behind the freshly broken wall.
"I appreciate your insight," says the Wizard in earnest having slightly regained his composure and carrying his staff and torch. "I suppose we should venture onward to find the others."
"Let's," the Fighting Woman replies.