Charlie and Rodrigo ascended the stone steps, the air thick with the stench of decay and death. As they reached the top, they heard a sound that sent chills down their spines. The sound of stone scraping against stone and claws clicking on the hard surface.
Claws. That word shot through Charlie’s mind and the instincts of a wolf assassin took over. Charlie whirled around without hesitation, coming face to face with an ominous darkness, punctuated by the sight of glistening, solid white eyes. He drew his razor-sharp daggers and prepared for battle.
Then their pursuers stepped into the light of Rodrigo’s magical orb and Charlie recoiled in disgust.
They were molerats, but horribly mutated by whatever energies lurked in the Deep Below. The twisted mutants were a terrifying sight to behold. They were small and wiry, with mottled gray skin that looked like it was about to slough off their emaciated frames. Their hairless bodies were covered in grotesque pustules, some of them oozing with noxious fluids.
Their jaws were twisted and gnarled, filled with razor-sharp teeth that glinted in the dim light. Their eyes were sunken and hollow, their gaze feral and savage. Their movements were jerky and spasmodic, like they were barely in control of their own bodies. And yet, their speed was terrifying, their twisted bodies darting and weaving like a pack of rabid animals.
The molerat’s twisted limbs and grotesque features were a stark contrast to Charlie’s own sleek, powerful form. He had faced similar creatures before, but these seemed different somehow. More savage. More feral.
It was obvious that there would be no reasoning with these creatures, no hope for redemption or mercy. They were twisted abominations, created by forces beyond human comprehension, and they hungered for flesh and blood. Their glowing eyes fixated on Charlie, and they charged with a guttural howl. Charlie sprang into action, his daggers slicing through the air as he met their attack. The abominations were relentless, their movements jerky and unpredictable. But Charlie was faster, his years of training as an assassin giving him an edge.
Charlie leaped forward, meeting the first monster head-on. His daggers slashed through the air, slicing through flesh and bone with deadly precision. The creature let out a bloodcurdling shriek as it fell to the ground, writhing in agony.
The other monsters pressed in, snarling and snapping at Charlie and Rodrigo. But Charlie was ready for them. He darted and weaved, his movements fluid and graceful as he slashed and stabbed.
One by one, the monsters fell before him, their twisted bodies severed by his razor-sharp daggers. But more kept coming, their ranks seemingly endless. The pack of twisted monsters descended upon them, their hairless, pustule-covered bodies gnashing their teeth in a frenzied rage.
Charlie felt his strength beginning to wane, his arms heavy and his movements slowing. He knew that they had to find a way out of here, and fast. But the monsters were closing in, their claws scraping against the stone floor as they moved in for the kill.
Just when it seemed that all was lost, a sound like no other filled the air. A sound that sent many of the monsters scurrying away in terror. It was a sound like the tolling of a bell, deep and ominous, a sound that filled the very core of their beings with fear.
The bell echoed through Charlie’s head, and he paused to focus his mind and assess the situation. Closing his eyes, Charlie concentrated on the source of the sound and took a deep breath, only to find his nose assailed by an overwhelming stench. Charlie’s nostrils were flooded by a thick, cloying miasma. It was as if the very air had become toxic, suffocating them with its sickly-sweet stench.
For a few tense moments, the chasm was completely silent.
Then Charlie heard whispers in the darkness, voices that were not human. The whispers were cold and hateful, filled with a malice that made their blood run cold. He couldn't make out the words, but the intent behind them was clear: they were not welcome here.
The whispers grew louder, and Charlie and Rodrigo found themselves surrounded by a cold, palpable presence. The air grew thick with a darkness that seemed to seep into their very bones, chilling them to the core.
Charlie knew that they were facing something far more sinister than the abominations that they had encountered before. This was an enemy that could not be defeated with claws and fangs. It was a force of pure evil, and it was hungry for their souls.
Far below them, where the stairs curved out of sight, shape began to materialize in the gloom. It was a thing of tentacles and eyes, a monstrous creature that seemed to be made entirely of darkness.
Charlie's blood ran cold as he gazed upon the creature before him. It was like nothing he had ever seen before, a horror beyond imagining. Its tentacles writhed and twisted, reaching out to ensnare them.
The creature's eyes glowed with an eldritch light, and Charlie could feel its malevolent intent. He knew that they were facing something far more dangerous than any mere abomination. This was a monster born of the very depths of the abyss, a creature that could not be reasoned with or defeated by conventional means.
“Charlie, close your eyes!” Rodrigo screamed.
Charlie turned just in time to see Rodrigo pull out an alchemical grenade of light, the kind that could blind and disorientate any creature with sensitive eyes. With a deft flick of his wrist, Rodrigo hurled the grenade towards the advancing creature.
Rodrigo’s grenade exploded in a brilliant burst of light, illuminating the entire area. Charlie saw the monster recoil, their sensitive eyes blinded and stunned.
The light also revealed the true nature of the creature that had been pursuing them. It was a massive, tentacled horror, with eyes that glowed with an otherworldly light. Perched on the remains of the staircase, its tentacles reaching out towards them.
As the light grenade went off, the creature let out a deafening scream, recoiling in agony. The stairs beneath it crumbled, sending it tumbling down into the darkness below.
Charlie and Rodrigo hurried on, their hearts racing with fear. Below them, Charlie could hear the creature still trying to find a way past the ruined stair to get to them. Its malevolent presence seemed to be closing in on them, even as they ran.
They could feel the heat of its breath on their necks, could hear the sound of its claws scraping against the stone floor. They knew that they had to find a way out of here, and fast.
“There!” Rodrigo screamed, “A door!”
Charlie’s heart began to race.
They could make it! “Get to the door, but Don’t Open It!”
As they raced towards the exit, Charlie could feel the creature's presence getting stronger and stronger. It was like a cold, black cloud that was descending upon them, blotting out the light and suffocating them with its malevolence.
But they didn't stop, didn't look back.
Rodrigo reached the door first. Despite his rotund frame, the fat wolf had managed to stay just ahead of Charlie. But while abject terror had allowed Rodrigo to tap into a hidden reserve of energy, from the way he was panting, Charlie could tell that it wasn’t going to last.
Charlie couldn’t help but find some measure of humor in their current situation – placing yourself in eminent peril certainly was one way to lose a bit of weight.
“Okay, we’re here, why can’t I open it?” Rodrigo huffed and wheezed, leaning over and holding his knees.
“It’s trapped.” Charlie unrolled his set of Thief's Tools and glanced behind them. The creature was still struggling to get itself up the stairs, meaning they had another minute or two to get the door open. Not a lot of time, but certainly doable.
“See these runes?” Charlie jabbed the symbols surrounding the frame. “If we get in, we’re safe. Let’s not die to the door’s traps first, right?”
“R-right,” Rodrigo panted.
Charlie motioned for Rodrigo to step back before testing the door. He cautiously rotated the knob, being careful to avoid its tip as well as the keyhole below it. Sure enough, a thin needle shot out from the center of the knob. The slimy coating on it a clear indication that it was poisoned.
Charlie entertained the briefest thought about tossing the needle at their pursuer, only to realize how obvious the slime was. That meant it was a double trap. Charlie could only imagine that, if he had been foolish enough to touch it, the slime would absorb into his skin, transforming him into only Finn knows what.
No, that last bit wasn’t true – it wasn’t only Finn who knew what that poison would do, Charlie did as well. Deep in his mind he had the vaguest recollection of training with a guild poisoner who showed him an identical slime. It came from the skin of a small, mud dwelling fish. All it took was the slightest bit getting on your skin. Then, over the next few weeks, your body would slowly shift and contort until all it could do was burrow into silt and eat worms.
That was far too long of a delay to be useful here, and absolutely not a fate that Charlie wanted to endure for himself. Still, the poison was useful. This ruin was obviously quite old, but that particular poison didn’t have much of a shelf life. That meant that there was an enchantment inside of the handle to regenerate the slime, and that was unlikely to be the only enchantment in the upcoming room.
The wolf assassin broke off the needle with a knife and pulled the door open, standing back. An axe swung down from the ceiling and narrowly missed Charlie before it was winched back into position by gears and pulleys that began to close the door as they reset the other traps. Charlie cut one of the ropes, and the apparatus ground to a halt.
Charlie stepped forward, but the tile beneath him gave way, and he plummeted down a shaft.
Rodrigo lunged forward and caught Charlie's paw just in time.
Charlie dangled for a moment, his heart racing, and glanced down at the bottom of the shaft, which led out into the chasm.
His paw began to slip free, and he realized that if he didn't stop his slide, he'd be flung straight out into the abyss.
In a moment of sheer panic, Charlie thrust his footpaws out just as Rodrigo's grip slipped entirely. He managed to catch himself with his paws and ass on the rough-hewn rock. His backside throbbed as it scraped against the walls.
Charlie grunted in pain as he carefully wriggled up the shaft and clambered into the room.
“Are you alright?” Rodrigo asked, his voice low and concerned, as he took Charlie's hand and pulled him close. The warmth of the other wolf's touch sent shivers down Charlie's spine.
Charlie's heart was still pounding from their close call. He looked up at Rodrigo, and their eyes met. "That was too close," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you."
Rodrigo held Charlie close, and the scent of his fur made Charlie's head spin.
He could feel the other wolf's breath on his neck, and his body responded, his cock growing hard in his pants. His paws slid over Rodrigo’s soft form, over his ample waist, and gripped the other wolf’s plump rump.
They pressed against each other, muzzles close, though not quite touching.
"You're very handsome," Charlie said softly, his voice filled with an unspoken desire.
"As are you, Charles," Rodrigo replied, his eyes smoldering with a mixture of passion and danger.
“It’s Charlie.”
"But Charlie is an adventurer's name."
"I am an adventurer," Charlie said, feeling emboldened by Rodrigo's proximity.
"Perhaps you could be a retired adventurer," Rodrigo said, his paw gently stroking Charlie's muzzle.
Charlie's body responded to the touch, and he couldn't help but lean closer to Rodrigo. He could smell the minty scent of the other wolf's breath, and his lips were so close to his own. But Charlie knew they couldn't give in to their desires, not when their lives were in danger. He pulled away from Rodrigo, giving him a playful pinch on his plump rump.
"We need to get to safety," he said, his heart racing. "We can't afford to be distracted."
Charlie tried to ignore how hard his cock was or how attractive the offer had been. The wolf was quite handsome, and so soft to touch. Charlie squeezed his arms around the mayor and sniffed his neck ruff. Rodrigo smelled masculine, citrusy, dangerous.
Their muzzles were almost touching, Rodrigo’s breath minty and sweet.