Tomb of Drowning Ecstasy

Azalon was deep in thought as he looked over the exterior of the tomb. They knew what they were looking for now; some indication of which particular demon a tomb was dedicated to. After having circled the previous tomb once again, Azalon was convinced that he hadn’t missed anything. The information he was looking for was just buried underneath layers of symbolism.

He glanced upward at the elf, currently clinging against the side of the tall spire and looking out over the dense necropolis. He had wanted to get a bird’s eye view of the area in order to find their next destination. The ornate details and intricate stonework at least made the tombs easy to scale.

The pixie saw where Azalon was looking and grumbled, “Hmpf, I could have just flown up there you know.”

Azalon nodded, “And you still can.”

“What? And miss out on all this fun?” she asked sarcastically.

She had been in a foul mood since they had arrived here. It was clear that her distaste for the undead was responsible for most of it, but perhaps she was feeling a little left out as well. “You know, next fight we get into, you should try using some of your illusions.”

“I told you they don’t work on the undead.”

He shook his head, “I don’t know. I was able to blind that big revenant. You should give it a try.”

She had a rare thoughtful look on her face as Ravingari suddenly landed on the ground in front of them. The elf smiled, brushing himself off casually after the dramatic entrance. “So, learn anything?”

Azalon glanced up at the crypt and shook his head, “No. There’s nothing as simple as a name or a sigil. All we can do is catalog all of the various symbols and motifs used in the decorations, and cross reference them against the domains of the demons we’re looking for.”

Ravingari made a face like he had just swallowed a bug, “Oof. Sounds like a pain.”

The fox grinned and shrugged, “It’s better than picking at random. It’ll be fine. I mean, that’s essentially what I do for a living.”

The elf nodded, looking him over, “Interesting… Perhaps you can tell me about that this evening. I’m still curious as to how a ‘scholar’ ended up in your situation.”

Azalon nodded, after all they’d been through already he could probably trust the elf enough to give him the full story, “Tonight then.”

“In the meantime, let’s see what else we can find here. We should keep focusing on the larger tombs. This is a trial the dungeon has laid out for us, so we’re at least looking for crypts that are big enough to fight inside of.”

The fox hadn’t thought of that, but then the elf had been doing this a lot longer than he had. Well, at least he thought he had. Now that he thought about it, Azalon didn’t really know anything about the elf’s past either. Perhaps they’d both get their questions answered tonight.

✦ ✦ ✦

It didn’t take them long to find a suitable looking crypt. Azalon had his demonology book open as a reference, double checking his earlier conclusion. He didn’t see anything that contradicted what he had found, but then Leviathan was an outlier among demons anyway. Fire was dreadfully common, but demons with a water aspect were rare. Given that secrets and darkness were his other primary domains, it was clear that this place was dedicated to The Beast of the Lightless Deep.

Ravingari had been hammering at the sealed entrance for almost an hour. He was nearly finished but Azalon thought that another walk around the tomb’s exterior couldn’t hurt. Another odd thing he noticed, something that was completely different from the cemeteries back home at least, was that there were no names written anywhere. There were no headstones, no dedications, no dates of birth or death, only the cryptic story of the person’s life told within the sculpted illustrations. He had noticed the absence in the last tomb, but now that they had closely examined a few more, it was clear that it hadn’t been an outlier. To the people of Rhysh, there must have been something taboo about a person’s name.

Azalon shook his head. This wasn’t the time to get distracted by idle speculation. He was trying to get some idea of what they might be fighting inside. From what he had seen this tomb didn’t look quite as bad as the last one, but the carvings were still… concerning.

There were tentacles everywhere.

There were no depictions of Leviathan himself of course. To his followers such a thing would be blasphemy. No light has ever shone upon their lord, so how would anyone know what he looked like? However, while Leviathan himself was a mystery, the tentacled things of the deep were seen as his heralds.

Azalon felt his eyes drawn to one sculpture in particular. It depicted an elven woman who had been thrown into the ocean. Countless tentacles were wrapped around and thrust inside of her, dragging her down into the depths below. He suppressed a shudder, thinking of how close he came to a similar fate just the day before.

From what he could gather, the owner of this tomb had been the captain of one of the ships of the Black Fleet. She had apparently been quite successful, depicted as having been part of dozens of raids, and capturing countless slaves for Rhysh. The drowning elf was a common motif, leading Azalon to think it was a common practice to toss a slave or two overboard as part of a raid; a sacrifice to the beast of the deep. They demonstrated her devotion to Leviathan, as well as her fondness for multiple penetration.

Having completed his final examination of the tomb’s exterior, Azalon returned to where Ravingari was tapping a break into the thick stone seal. The elf didn’t look up as he spoke, “Find anything new?”

“No. I think it’s a given that we’re going to be fighting some kind of tentacle monster in there though.”

The pixie, hovering off to Azalon’s left, pumped her fist in excitement. She was completely on board with this. The elf simply nodded though, having come to the same conclusion himself. “We’ll be lucky if it’s only that. There’s something about dungeons and water levels. For whatever reason they are always the biggest pain in the ass.”

Willowing failed to hide her laughter when Ravingari mentioned ass pain, but he continued on as if he didn’t notice. “Expect to have your movement restricted. You may need to hold your breath for extended periods. And your crossbow won’t penetrate very far through water. Given what we learned in the last one, this time we’ll focus on the boss. Open with whatever mental attacks you can hit them with. Blind them, trip them, whatever it takes to break their defense and get them off balance.”

Azalon nodded along as the elf spoke. Ending the battle as quickly as possible was really their best option.

The elf put his tools back into his pouch as he stood back up. Handing Azalon a pry bar he asked, “Okay. Are you ready for this?”

Mentally preparing himself for what was to come, Azalon gave the elf a quick nod and pushed his bar into the crack on the opposite side of the door. “Ready.”

The two men pulled at the slab, slowly working it free from the carefully constructed crack along the rim. Unlike the last tomb, there were no sounds of moaning from the other side of the door. There was nothing but the sound of scraping stone until suddenly the slab shuddered with a wet and heavy impact. The stone lurched forward. It was clear something was trying to get out as much as they were trying to get in.

Azalon would normally have taken that as a sign that they should probably stop what they were doing, but from the way the stone began to slide outward, it was clear that it was too late now. The elf and vulpin dodged out of the way as the slab was pushed free, crashing to ground below, followed unsurprisingly by a pair of glistening and writhing tentacles, each easily the thickness of an oak tree.

The fox ducked as it reached blindly for him, slapping wetly against the wall above him. The thing was massive, thicker than both his legs put together. It wasn’t a breeding tentacle, unless you happened to be breeding whales who were also size queens. This was a tentacle for uprooting trees and crushing foxes into a fine paste.

They were dark gray and mottled like something that had been underwater for too long. The glistening limbs were encrusted with hard barnacle-like growths and draped with seaweed. Ravingari slashed at the one near him as he rushed past, but it barely seemed to notice. The elf’s cut was deep, but not deep enough to get past its thick skin. “Inside!”

The fox ducked another clumsy swing as he followed the elf inside. They might have been huge and terrifyingly strong, but at least they were slow.

A faint green glow filled the interior of the tomb. It wasn’t as bright as the flames that had filled the last one, but at least his eyes wouldn’t need to adjust to see. The opulent interior looked more like a throne room than a crypt. Now that they were inside, it was clear that the space between the exterior walls and this inner chamber was entirely filled with water, visible through the lancet-shaped windows encircling the crypt. The soft green light was coming from above and filtered through the numerous windows, giving the tomb a distinctly underwater feel.

Beyond the windows though, floating in the murky water, Azalon could see dozens of bodies. Even though they were underwater they were all clearly alive, twisting and writhing as they were violated by innumerable tentacles.

As soon as Azalon had passed the threshold of the chamber he began to feel them as well. The women were the same type of tormented revenants that were present in the last tomb. This time though it was clear that it wasn’t just pain that they reflected, but everything that they were feeling.

Azalon gasped for air, suddenly overcome by the sensation of drowning. Gasping didn’t help. His lungs were burning, and no matter how deeply he breathed he still felt as though he was suffocating. He felt thick leathery members pushed into his throat, forcing water into his lungs.

He looked up just in time to see one of the huge tentacles sweeping across the floor towards him. He managed to leap over it, but it clipped his leg, sending him tumbling onto the stone floor. He grunted as he landed hard on his stomach. He struggled back to his feet, but the overpowering sensations of the tentacles moving inside of him were making it difficult for him to do anything.

He was starting to see bright spots flashing in his vision. In his desperation to breathe he realized he was starting to hyperventilate. He knew what he was feeling wasn’t real. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pounding sensation in his gut as he forced himself to concentrate.

Ravingari was clearly feeling the same things he was, but the elf seemed to be handling it better. The tomb’s single occupant was angrily waving her arms at him, directing the motions of the huge lashing tentacles. Seeing how he had been dodging her attacks, she was trying to trap him, closing the tentacles over him like a giant pair of scissors. He was agile enough to leap out from between them, but he was having trouble closing the distance between himself and the revenant.

It was clear she was controlling them, but the tentacles themselves were emerging from dimly glowing portals hovering just over the revenant’s shoulders. Like the other revenant, the summoner was mostly nude. She wore nothing but a pair of high leather boots and an array of leather straps that mirrored her ribs, giving her a skeletal appearance. The straps were attached to her body by eight or so thick rings, arranged in two lines just under her modest breasts. They wrapped around her body, attached presumably to matching rings near her spine.

Azalon knew he had to do something to attack her, or at least distract her, but he strained against the unfamiliar sensations filling his body. The tormented figures surrounding and sharing their sensations with him were all women. It was difficult at first for his mind to interpret what they had been feeling, but this horrid stretching sensation could only be coming from his womb; or at least where it would be if he had one. He felt the writhing intruders filling the unfamiliar cavity inside of him, swelling to an incredible degree, and no matter how he struggled to free himself, to swim towards the surface, they were firmly locked inside of his body. It made him feel bad for all the women he had ever knotted.

The fox extended his hand, fighting against the sensation of his cervix being ripped open, and cast Blind. The glowing runes around his arm flared brightly, but he could tell that the revenant resisted the spell from the way her eyes suddenly locked onto him.

With a dramatic swing of her arm she sent one of the tentacles barreling towards him. He made the split second decision to dive below it, flattening his body against the stone floor as it passed inches over his head.

Looking behind him he saw the tentacle smash against the wall, the body of a vulpin caught between it and one of the windows where it exploded dramatically in a geyser of blood. His corpse, cut in half by the ferocity of the attack, slid down the window, leaving a vivid red smear behind. Azalon blinked, horrified by the sight, but also impressed by the pixie’s flare for the dramatic.

The illusion seemed to fool the revenant who, having dispatched the troublesome spell caster, turned her attention fully onto the elf attacking her. He had been able to avoid the tentacles so far, but every time he got close to her she would cast something that knocked him back or forced him to retreat. Knowing she wasn’t paying any attention to him now, Azalon started sneaking along the edge of the room, pulling his crossbow from his inventory and quietly arming it. The feeling of a dozen different tentacles exploring the length of his digestive system was making it difficult to aim, but as soon as he saw the elf close in on her he fired.

The revenant grunted as the crossbow bolt embedded itself in her chest, just below her armpit. It wasn’t enough to really harm her, but at least it interrupted whatever spell she had been trying to cast, allowing the elf to finally get within striking distance. She blocked Ravingari’s sword with her fist, but his dagger slipped under her guard, stabbing her between her ribs. The summoned tentacles flailed as her concentration wavered, withdrawing partially into the portals they were emerging from.

The revenant flared with mana, preparing something big and potentially deadly. Before he let that happen though, Azalon hit her with Daze. The spell wasn’t really intended to be used as an interrupt, but the momentary dizziness was at least enough to throw off her aim. A blade of high pressure water slashed across the room, missing the elf, but cutting deeply into one of her summoned tentacles. The opening was enough for the assassin though, who used the momentum of his dodge to bring his dagger up into her neck. The spinning attack hit her with enough force to lift her up off of the ground. The dagger plunged under her chin, penetrating deep enough to reach her brain.

Two wet thuds reverberated throughout the chamber as her portals were suddenly closed, severing the huge tentacles. Her body twitched for several more seconds before it realized that it was dead. As soon as it was clear she was truly deceased, the elf dropped her, letting her corpse collapse onto the floor below.

It was all Azalon could do to remain standing. While the biggest threat had been taken care of, they were still being bombarded by the unbearable sensations emanating from the tormented. The fox grimaced, watching the drowning women through the windows. The mass of tentacles surrounding them were as thick as grass, but constantly in motion as they thrust into any opening they could find, sometimes two or three at a time.

The glass they were trapped behind was thick enough to withstand a blow that could have turned his body into pulp. It must have been magically reinforced in some way or another, leaving Azalon with no idea how he could get to them in order to end their torment. As he was pondering that problem though, the light in the crypt began to dim.

The air around him grew heavy, the pressure around them building as the light fled from the chamber. He felt like a stone, sinking down into the black depths of the ocean. The blackness was absolute. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t even hear. But the crushing pressure on his soul left him without a doubt that he was in Leviathan’s presence.

Before Azalon could say anything his entire body exploded in pain. He was being stabbed to death from the inside. He was ripped apart, torn into chunks, and devoured by a thousand mouths.

He didn’t remember falling, but when the crushing sensation had passed and he opened his eyes the fox could see that a watery light again filled the crypt. The light had changed though. While it had been a murky green before, the light that filled the chamber now was a deep red. The windows were filled with blood, too thick to see through, though occasionally an unidentifiable chunk of flesh would brush against the window before receding back into the frothy sanguine waters.

Azalon groaned as he stood back up, looking around the chamber in numb horror. The summoner’s body had been pulped as well; scattered in a bloody mess across half the chamber. The only part of her that remained was a spine, laying in the center of what looked like an explosion of gore.

Ravingari, who had been standing next to the revenant, wiped his hands down his blood soaked leather jerkin, though it was debatable that that did anything to help. “Leviathan… not much of a talker was he? Not as chatty as his brother was in any case.”

Azalon nodded dumbly, still shocked at what he was seeing. Even the severed tentacles had been reduced to stinking piles of loose wet flesh. Turning to the elf he asked, “Are you okay?”

Ravingari nodded slowly, “Yeah. Feeling like I just got fisted in my fallopians, and then stabbed a couple million times, but good otherwise.”

Willowing giggled at the elf’s phrasing. From her expression Azalon could tell that she had found their situation more amusing than anything. Leaning down, Ravingari picked the bloody spine up off of the ground and nodded. “Alright. We’ve got the next key. Let’s go find a fucking bath.”