The Flesh Pit

Marcus laughed so hard he had to clutch his stomach.

“Hahahaha!”

His laughter echoed down the corridor as they staggered side by side through the dark hall.

Finally, the fit stumbled into a fading “haa… hah… ha…” and ended in a hoarse chuckle.

“Man…” he gasped, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “That’s the funniest story I’ve ever heard.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost enough to set him off again, but instead he exhaled sharply, looked at Bromor, and said deadpan:

“Okay. Now you tell one.”

The dwarf gave a strained smile.

“...I don’t have many wild tales. But I did meet a crazy beer mage in a dungeon once. That was exciting enough.”

Marcus blinked and scratched his head.

“Huh, really? And here I thought I was the only beer mage in this world. What was he like?”

Bromor slapped a hand to his face.

“I was talking about you, lad! By my beard, you’re the densest human I’ve ever met!”

Marcus crossed his arms with a sulky huff. “Tch… could’ve been someone else, y’know…”

Suddenly, he came to an abrupt halt.

“Uh… Bromor? Haven’t we walked past this spot already?”

The dwarf squinted at the hall, beard bristling.

“Aye… now that you say it. We’ve been at this for ages, yet the stairs aren’t a step closer. That’s… odd.”

They exchanged a bewildered glance, when a blood-curdling scream tore through the dark.

“AAAHHHHHHHHH!”

Both flinched hard.

“Shit! That came from our room! Gus might be in trouble!”

Bromor hefted his axe with a grim nod. “…So are we, lad. Look there!”

The oil lamps flickered though there was no wind. Dark mist seeped from the walls, swelling and twisting until grotesque bodies formed.

They looked like hobbits, but their faces were warped, eyes glowing blood-red, mouths stretched into grotesque grins far too wide. 

Their limbs elongated into sickle-like claws as they crept forward.

“Holy shit… what the hell are those things!?”

Marcus raised his staff, the crystal glowing bright and for a heartbeat, the shadows recoiled.

“I don’t know, lad. But they’re not here to make friends, that’s for sure!”

And then, in the same instant, the creatures lunged from both sides, Marcus and Bromor bracing back-to-back.

“Beer Shower, go!”

Marcus’ staff flared, blasting the attackers back with a foaming torrent of ice-cold beer, while Bromor’s axe clashed against their claws, hacking wildly.

More shadows seeped from the walls, reforming into hobbit-shaped horrors. Their twisted faces twitched in the staff’s glow as Bromor’s axe cleaved again and again.

But the more they cut down, the more emerged from the mist.

“Dammit, there’s way too many!” Marcus shouted, his staff sparking. “Got any bright ideas!?”

Sweat dripped down Bromor’s brow, then a grin spread across his face.

“In moments like this, there’s only one way…” He hefted his axe, eyes blazing. “Hold tight, lad!”

“What? Wait, what do you mean by...”

Before Marcus could finish, Bromor slammed his axe down with all his strength into the wooden floor beneath them.

One strike. Another. Then another.

The boards cracked, splintered, groaned, and with a final heave, the planks gave way, sending them both screaming into the depths below.

But instead of crashing into the lower floor, they slid down an endless, slanted surface that warped beneath them, like a slimy chute of living tissue.

“What the!? Aaaahhhhhh!”

Marcus’ scream echoed grotesquely as they were dragged further and further down into the dark.

---

Elsewhere, in a twisted part of the inn, Gus and Caeriel crawled through the tunnel they had just discovered.

It was narrow, damp and reeking of rot.

Their steps echoed dully as the greenish glow of Gus’ demon arm flickered over the walls.

“Have I mentioned I’m claustrophobic?” Gus muttered. “I hate tunnels! And do you wanna know what I hate even more? When the fucking tunnel is in a goddamn haunted house!”

Caeriel shot him a sharp side glance. “Save your breath for walking.” Her eyes scanned the walls. “This isn’t a normal tunnel. It feels… almost alive.”

With each step, it grew more organic, as if they were crawling deeper into something living, and the deeper they went, the worse it got. 

Gus dragged a hand over the wall and then instantly regretted it. Slime clung to his fingers. “Ugh... It’s like crawling through the stomach of a goddamn whale.”

The tunnel finally split open into a massive chamber, where the walls bulged with meaty growths, slick membranes stretched between cartilage-like ridges, thick strands of mucus drooling from above.

Every step on the spongy floor made a wet, sucking noise.

And from the far side of the chamber, a murmur drifted to them, low and alien. It was impossible to tell if it came from some creature, or from the chamber itself.

Caeriel’s eyes widened and she whispered a quick elvish prayer.

“…By the gods, what is this place!?”

Gus braced his hands on his knees, sighing heavily. “Great. If this isn’t some giant fucking Sarlacc stomach, then I’ll eat my own boots. And for the love of god: please. don’t. shoot. an arrow. at the 'walls'.”

She snorted softly, pulling her bowstring tighter. “Don’t talk nonsense. But still…” Her voice lowered. “…Better not touch anything.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I won’t make that mistake again…”, he muttered, as the slime still sticked to his fingers.

Their boots squelched deeper into the corridor, the murmur swelling into warped, watery whispers.

Then, another sound.

Fighting.

Gus and Caeriel froze, exchanged a glance, then sprinted toward the noise.

They burst into another chamber, and there stood Marcus and Bromor, back-to-back, surrounded by dozens of shadow-hobbits. Above them yawned a hole in the fleshy ceiling.

Marcus hurled bursts of hops and foaming beer from his staff, while Bromor’s axe cleaved through claws and bodies alike.

“There you guys are!” Marcus yelled when he spotted them. “Bad news though, couldn’t find the beer pong cups!”

“That’s the bad news!?” Gus barked back, his demon arm already pulsing.

He charged forward, his arm lashing out in a blast of green fire, vaporizing three shadows at once. 

Another lunged and he crushed its skull in his fist, snarling. “Handy’s not in the mood, assholes!”

An arrow hissed past Gus’ ear and punched clean through a shadow’s head. 

The creature burst into smoke, but the arrow didn’t stop and it sank deep into the fleshy wall with a sickening sound.

The entire chamber shuddered and the ground rippled under their boots like an earthquake.

“Oi!” Gus roared, crushing another shadow underfoot. “Did I stutter!? NO ARROWS IN THE GODDAMN STOMACH OF THE SARLACC!”

Caeriel’s cheeks flared red, her voice sharp but shaky. “It... It wasn’t on purpose! How was I supposed to know they just dissolve?!”

Marcus, already sloshed and cackling, blasted another wave of beer across the mob. “Hah! You two sound like a married couple already!”

“WE DO NOT!” Gus and Caeriel barked at the exact same time.

Caeriel’s eyes darted across the chamber, past the swarming shadows, and froze.

From one of the knobby, cartilage-like growths on the wall, black sludge oozed out in steady streams. 

Each drop slithered, pulling itself upright until it twisted into the shape of another shadow-hobbit.

Her stomach dropped. “Wait… they’re spawning straight out of those things!”

Bromor followed her gaze, wiped sweat from his beard, and grinned through the chaos. “Good. Then we know what to do!”

“No, wait!” Gus and Caeriel shouted at the same time.

But Bromor had already lifted his axe.

With a single, brutal swing, he hacked straight through the growth. 

It burst like an overripe melon, spraying gore across the chamber. 

The shadows shrieked, dissolving into smoke one after another.

For a heartbeat, there was silence.

Then the walls convulsed and the floor pitched under their boots, the chamber rumbling like the belly of a beast.

Marcus looked around, panicked. “…Uh. I think that was the wrong move, buddy.”

“What else were we supposed to do!?” the dwarf barked back.

A wet, sucking sound echoed overhead, and with a splatch, thick slime began dripping from the ceiling.

The first glob splattered onto Marcus’ shoulder, hissing as it burned straight through the fabric of his cloak. 

“Fuuuck!” he yelped, tearing the cloak off and flinging it aside. “That shit’s acid!”

Before anyone could recover, the walls split open with a sickening rip.

Jagged, tendon-lined tentacles shot out, whipping through the chamber with terrifying speed. 

They lashed across the floor, slammed into the walls, and coiled toward arms and legs.

“Keep moving!” Caeriel shouted, loosing arrows that severed a pair of thrashing tendrils. “If we stay here, we’re dead!”

The chamber shook harder, slime raining down, tentacles smashing wildly as the four of them bolted for the only exit.

They stumbled through the quaking passages as the entire place grew unstable.

Walls and floors pulsed under their boots, slime spraying from all sides.

Finally, the tunnel opened into a vast chamber.

In its center yawned a gaping pit, from which purple light pulsed like a beating heart.

The ground rumbled, the chamber trembled, and deep below, that glowing heart began to beat faster.

And then, from the pit, a colossal figure rose.

At first just a shimmer in the mist, then a chaotic mass of flesh and cartilage, writhing as if it were still growing in the very moment.

Tentacles sprawled across the floor, pulsing in rhythm with the titanic heartbeat.

And in the middle gaped a maw, no mouth, but a yawning hole, dripping with steaming slime.

“…By my beard…” Bromor muttered.

Caeriel already had three arrows notched at once, eyes sharp and steady.

Gus just sighed, his demon arm twitching eagerly as if it couldn’t wait to start the fight.

The monster loomed higher and higher, as though it meant to fill the entire chamber. 

A shriek erupted from the pit, rattling their very bones.

Marcus clutched his staff, groaning.

“…Another bossfight? Fuck me… I should’ve stayed with my yandere princess…”