Your plug holds, the ooze and rot around the straw serving as a sort of sealant to keep the gas back, at least for a little while. Between that and the cracks on the ceiling, you feel like you have at least another minute, so long as the rushes hold together...<br/><br/>Not to be defeated, Sharpspike runs at the prybar again, but again is unable to budge it. The little guy snarls to himself and backs up, preparing for a longer running start next time...