>>5415832>18 athleticismYou manage to struggle free from the coils of the Mother of Dragons, to wrestle your limbs free… But not for long.
>3 religionYou meet her eyes—so many eyes! Were there always so many eyes? How many faces does she have? How many eyes, how many teeth, how many laughing mouths full of sharp teeth or gnashing mandibles or rasping tongues, how many damned EYES?! It’s not unlike fighting the shoggoth again…
If ONLY you were fighting!
Horror fills you, and you scream. You cannot hear the scream over the Dark Goddess’ laughter. Unable to look away from the true face of your dark and divine paramour, you are pulled back into her many arms, to her motherly bosom, and back into the depths of her world of pleasure and pain.
“Oh no,” she moans. “You are GOOD for one so young. You are not permitted to leave until I am ENTIRELY through with you, little boy.”
It seems like an eternity—now an eternity of terror without name, rather than of erotic delight—before you wake. Wake you DO though, to find Olu the Archer leaning over you, shaking you. It takes you a moment to realize who he is, who YOU are, and where you are.
“How long has it been?” you ask, voice hoarse.
“Since we arrived?” Oluwadamilare asks, confused. “A few hours, perhaps. You have been in torpor for some time… But we have been trying to wake you. You were thrashing, crying out… We feared poison, or magic.”
“Something like that,” you murmur. “I am fine.”
You aren’t sure you are. The lingering images and sensations sit with you still. The waking world seems an unreal, distant place even as you rise to stand. Your body feels... Foreign. You flex your hands and kick your feet, lash your tail and take a deep breath. Yes, you’re real, and alive, and awake. The eyes, mouths… That soul-consuming warmth and suction-pressure is gone. You shiver.
“The Novice Fleshweaver said as much,” Olu says, with a wry half-smile.
“Is that why my principal physician is not attending to me in such distress?” you sigh.
“There is something else, also-too,” says Ivno the Kobold, and you look to him taking a moment to comprehend the words.
“Fleshweaver is helping,” Ivno says, “but little elf-spawn… They have changed.”
