“Welcome Heroes!”, rumbled an ancient voice like rusty chains against Varisian sandstone. I stopped dead in my tracks in-front of the trio of freshly slain flesh golems. If I had hairs then would’ve been standing on end like tiny erections. The Sorrow Maker alas decided to welcome us to his adamantine pit. His errant low grumbles gradually coalesced into a playful chuckle, “My father has chosen wisely. You fight like true champions, but I grow bored seeing my meat toys broken. Let me adjust the odds! Your misery will amuse me for a little while longer.” His wispy snigger amplified a hundredfold into raucous laughter that bounced off the impenetrable walls with violence. My outmatched senses saturated with the flavor of unbridled dread that only a god can cook up. Dahak was surely about to bend us over and fuck us.
Dahak’s invisible wave struck me like a blacksmith’s hammer ping against a steel anvil. The searing pain rang down into my bone marrow until my very root spurned me. My organs wrenched counterclockwise while my head corkscrewed the opposite. I swear the divine raping lasted at least a 1000 years; and without gentleness, but by a prolonged pileated pecker. After the bad touch subsided, my body was left heavy, numb, and depleted. Getting robbed of your power and purpose leaves a man like me only one card left to play. Rage! I never said it was a good card.
“Is that the best you got!”, I roared, “Does festering meat mean that much to you, Dark Lizard? Am gonna blast them to bloody bits!”
“Such…faith…in worthless trinkets”, smirked the faceless God. Suddenly, my musket jumped out of my hand and slide across the cavern floor a dozen feet. I tried to retrieve it and it again slipped out. Dahak the pissant just lubed me up! In fact, all of my guns were compromised. The cockbiter.
“Losers say what?”, scoffed Dahak.
“What?”, I shouted. Another curse hit me like a dragon tail’s whiplash. It was not a physical manifestation of pain like the previous salvo but a sweet release of my inner being. A total release from fear, from laws, and from morals. Thoughts of savagery entered my mind meat. All my heart’s desires were mine to be taken. There was no price too high to pay or bond to important to break. All others were peasants destined to lick my boots! My crew noticed the change in my demeanor. Probably because of the maniacal grin chiseled on my maw.
“Does anyone else in class have anything to add?”, demanded Dahak. The others were quiet staring down at their feet. Lorenz quickly tackled me right before I was going to run my mouth again at our dick referee.
“Good! If you entertain me well, I will grant you an audience”, it trailed off. Ahh! There was the carrot! Gods always dangle a carrot. I fucking hate carrots.
Luckily, Lorenz’s was able to partially undo Dahak’s mind fucking me and cleanse the slippery magic coating my musket before we explored the pit further. The man was invaluable! Mr. Finn put his ear to the ground and led the way. A thousand paces into the stinky black cave, we heard the familiar guttural roar of the flesh monsters. They came at us in waves. Each one more hideous, bloody, and outrageous than the next. One appeared to be a hoard of stitched together munthreks, another gnomes, another devils, and the last one dragon bits. I expertly shot down the nearest ball of limbs barreling down on us with glee. Suck my trinket Dahak!
The three remaining flesh golems stampeded towards us at a thousand mile per hour on a thousand amputated legs. I was confidant I would lay them to waste. Goethe had other plans. He did his magic dance and summoned a pit below my feet. I don’t think it was for me but you never know with that guy. Normally, I could’ve avoided such an obstacle, but my legs were still lifeless from Dahak’s thumping. I fell into the hole. I had no way to climb out of the smooth walled stone pit. God Damnit! I heard the others fighting above and looked up, needing to shield my eyes from the rain droplets of blood and bits of flesh.
“They’re joining!”, screamed Mr. Finn. I saw flashes of the titanic creature from the opening of my prison. It was a mass of smashed corpses clinging to one another in a grotesque embrace that you can’t unsee. Amazingly, the sound it made was even worse than its foul appearance. Each of its ungainly movements was accompanied by the sharp snapping of bones as its corpse structure torqued and shifted under its own immense weight. Dahak’s sense of humor was super fucked up to employ such a death fueled abomination. I hungered to fight it tooth and nail, but I couldn’t traverse the pit’s lack of footholds. I cursed my shriveled wings. I cursed my short arms. I cursed Goethe.
Thankfully, spidery Myrrh came to my rescue. He jumped down the pit with acrobatic ease, scooped me up in his strong arms, and dashed away. So glad Myrrh was on my side! At the top, an enlarged Mr. Finn was hacking away layers of interlocking festering body parts from the towering undead golem. I opened fire, Lorenz bolstered us, Goethe summoned fire, and Myrrh found fulsome organs to stab. The flesh colossus was fading fast under our collective efforts. Just as it was about to collapse inward the blood shot eyes of hundreds of inlaid severed heads suddenly opened wide, their saggy mouths stretched open beyond jaw limits and wailed the song of death. The song was damn beautiful. A melody so irresistibly sweet it made you want to close your smiling eyes forever and drift away. My eyes got very heavy. And shut.
How pathetic? Killed by a flesh peon. Killed after falling into a hole. Killed by a song. The bards will surely sing songs of my last stand!
I soon felt a squeezing on my chest right over my heart. Breath not my own filled my empty lungs. More rhythmic compression. More foreign breath. The cycle repeated until the deadly tune dissipated and the sleepiness subsided. My eyes opened to Lorenz’s busy hands. Rescued three times in one day ain’t half bad. Pathetic, yes, but not bad. Myrrh wasn’t so lucky. His eyes were smiling.
“A death most unworthy”, pleaded Goethe, “The Kitsune can still entertain you!”
“hemuchfunwhenkicking”, garbled Mr. Finn.
“That was a shit death! Let him struggle!”, groveled Lorenz.
“What Myrrh’s dead?”, I blabbered in a quiet haze.
“Fuffuffuffu! So be it”, a gravelly omnipresence voice responded. All eyes shot to Myrrh.
Myrrh’s slowly and eerily sat up. The smile left his eyes. Without making a sound or taking a breath he stared at us for a spell then a wide grin formed like time-lapsed photography on his otherwise unanimated face. He vanished.
No one was sure what just happened.
“Thank You Dahak for reviving him! You’re not that bad of a guy”, I cheered. Lorenz looked at me in disbelief.
“I think you ought to know…”, deadpanned Brittlehope. The bone devil paused.
“Well?”, asked an irritated Goethe.
“You’re not going to like it…”, sighed Brittlehope.
“Spit it out!”
“…my ice walls are failing. More flesh golems are coming to kill us. Ghastly isn’t it?”, said Brittlehope flatly.