Into the Darkness

It was during the late hours of the evening when Emmeline had finally trudged her way into the village along the muddy road, seeking shelter from the cold and a warm bed for the evening.

It was there in the inn, as she sat nursing a hefty mug in the back corner of the room where she overheard the locals talking about the supposedly dangerous and haunted tomb that lay beyond the outskirts of the village proper, languishing in the dark of the nearby mountain. Created long ago by an elemental, they claim.

An old king who ruled this land in times past, known for his conquering of many lands. And their wenches. Saying that when he died and his insatiable, lustful essence was at last buried within, it seeped outwards into the crypt itself.

At first disregarding it as idle talk conjured from the boredom of village life, it was at the mention of the many treasure seekers who had delved into its depths in search of supposed riches that peaked her interest, and she downed the last of her drink she headed upstairs to her room for the evening, determined to set out of that tomb in the morning.

It was then that she stood in front of the tomb, sword in hand, gawking at the spires that rose up to the sky above and realised she had slightly underestimated this challenge.

“This isn’t a tomb… It’s a fucking cathedral more like.” She mutters under her breath as she examines the soaring towers at its edges, the curving arches that lined its walls and the ornate yet blackened stained glass that stood ominously above her.

For a few moments she wondered if wandering into this admittedly awe inspiring ruin was such a good idea, before she shook the doubts out of her head. There was treasure and adventure afoot! And so with a final check of how secure her armour was, the red marked woman stepped through the wide stone doors and began her descent down the steps into the earth.

Though she carried a torch with her the atmosphere within seemed ever more oppressive as she followed the steps downwards, as if the dark pressed in against the light ever more intently than elsewhere.

Now and again the stairs would come to a landing, and there would be a small branching corridor that led from either side of it, but on all occasions the way was barred either by rubble or a rusted metal grate that prevented her from thoroughly checking through these other pathways. Eventually after what felt like an eternity of descent into the darkness, she reached what appeared to be the lowest level of the tomb, coming to a stop as she reached another much wider crossroads. With no more stairs to descend the choice comes to her, left or right?

To the left.. She sees nothing but darkness and shadows at the edge of her torchlight.

And to the right.. She sees nothing but darkness and shadows at the edge of her torchlight. The woman gives a half hearted scoff at the decision in front of her.

“Some choice, huh?” She asks nobody in particular, before she begins pointing between either direction, quickly humming a small tune in order to pick the direction, before settling on the left path.

“…that way!”

At her exclamation something stirs in the depths of the tomb, and from behind her an odd breeze whips through the wide stone corridor, ruffling her hair where it pokes from beneath her helmet and threatening to extinguish her torch, something she immediately tries to shield from the wind with her body lest it go out and leave her in the dark.

As it washes over her a lingering warmth comes with it that remains on her skin even after it passes, the breeze seemingly oddly akin to someone’s breath as opposed to just a simple stir of the air. For a moment her mind flashes back to the two patrons she’d heard the night before discussing this place, and the tale that in these forgotten depths even the shadows had grown hungry, devouring those foolish enough to trespass their domain beneath.

Though she quickly pushes such superstitions out of her mind and shakes her head, even if a shiver does run through her spine at the concept.

“Nothing down here but shadows and.. Probably at least one rat.” She says to reassure herself, before she sets off down the pathway she had chosen.

The tomb’s walls were made of a rough hewn stone, rising high above her to the ceiling that is just barely reached by the flicker of her torchlight, revealing a cracked surface that hangs above. Here and there roots of inquisitive and determined plants broke through, hanging darkly in the air as if reaching for something in particular, and the thought that it was her never fully leaves her mind no matter how hard she tries.

Though the tomb was clearly ancient the floor remained thankfully mostly intact, with the flagstones even enough that for the time being she didn’t have to worry about her footing. Sometimes at the base of each wall there was a gutter that ran a portion of its length, though its purpose was unclear to her, and upon investigation revealed an odd viscous liquid that filled it.

She decided against touching it. Just in case.

The corridor she traversed was long and bleak, ever stretching deeper into the darkness ahead of her, and after a while she began to wonder if she’d even moved at all. That was until something glittered at the corner of her vision, attracting her attention. Kneeling beside the wall she spots something gold and shining, half buried in a pile of dust that’s built up over however long. Brushing it away reveals a small stack of gold coins, and a grin splits over her face as she gathers them up and places them into the pouch on her belt.

“See, getting richer already. So there is treasure in this place.” She proudly states as she stands up again, feeling a little daft for doubting her movements in this place. Though the feeling is short lived, as she feels something akin to a long fingered hand grasping at the back of her neck. Giving an amusingly panicked shriek that echoes through the corridor, Emmeline whirls around on the spot and drops her torch, her hand going for her sword only to find nothing behind her but thin, dark air.

She stands with her weapon drawn for a few moments before she straightens up and clears her throat, her cheeks reddening as she begins to feel a tad foolish at the display. She wipes at the back of her neck, trying to see if anything had fallen on her but finds nothing, and resigns it to a trick of the mind before turning and going for her torch again. Though before she can pick it up she’s greeted by another surprise of the tomb.

Her torch had fallen into the gutter beside her at the base of the wall, and she watched as the flames trickled outwards through the stone runner, igniting the odd liquid that lay within. She watches as quickly the enter gutter is aflame, lighting a good chunk of her way into the darker recesses of the corridor, before smiling at the happy accident that had occured.

“Well isn’t that just helpful planning.” She muses with a smirk on her face, the added light giving her a much easier time as she traverses through the ruin, keeping her torch on hand to ignite any other instances of these handy troughs of fire.

Continuing her adventuring in higher spirits, despite the sudden fright she’d had beforehand, Emmeline keeps lightning more of the gutters until they cease to appear for a time, leaving her once again in the dark save for her meagre torchlight. She looks back down the corridor to see the vast length she’s travelled, before she arrives at a corner that turns deeper into the tomb. Annoyed and concerned that this would leave her once again in the dark with no reference to what’s behind her, she turns the corner only to immediately trip over something with a metal clank.

Crying out in surprise, she hits the ground heavily and lies there grumbling for a moment before climbing to her feet again and picking up her torch. She turns to see what it was she tripped over, and is surprised to see a set of armour lying discarded on the ground. Curious, she picks up the breastplate that lies there, finding no sign of damage or wear, save for a few splotches of black goo that line the inside of the edge.

The rest of the armour lies in a similar state around it, all equally in good condition despite being seemingly abandoned.

“What, did someone just decide to get naked for a stroll?” She questions with a raised eyebrow, dropping the piece of armour back into its scattered pile. “Well each to their own, no judgments here.”

As she continues down the new stretch of corridor the wind that had blown past her before returns, this time stronger and warmer. Though she knows it must be her imagination, she swears that in the swirling air she feels someone’s touch upon her body. As if hands had slipped beneath her armour and were groping her body. She gasps as she feels something brush by her nethers but when looking she finds nothing out of the ordinary, and the feeling fades just as quickly.

Though her torch survives the ordeal, Emmeline is still thrown by the odd sensations that had been brought to her, deciding that there was definitely something off down in these depths. And yet something still compels her to continue on her way.

“…are there horny ghosts now?” She says with a half hearted chuckle, trying to distract herself from the wetness that was growing between her legs.

A few meters further she comes across another set of discarded armour, this one covered in a thicker layer of dust and having clearly been abandoned some time ago. Though once again the armour itself shows no sign of struggle or damage that would have led to it being left in this place. The lack of body within it unnerves her more than it would had there been bones or a decayed corpse within it, as it implied that these people either kept going without armour, or were taken by something else within these walls.

From then on she finds more and more of these creepily pristine and yet cast aside sets, some showing signs of rust from age, some more recent. One is so old that as she nudges it aside with her foot the metal warps and crumbles away. And throughout it all, the only other feature they shared were deposits of the same black goo that she’d discovered on the first sit. Some were stained more than others, and she finds a breastplate almost drenched in the stuff.

Soon she begins to discover pools of it lying amongst the armour itself, weapons and gear resting in strange black puddles. She kneels beside one that seems to seep out from the ground below, holding her torch over it and trying to discern the nature of this strange substance. Though try as she might, the light never penetrates it, seemingly being absorbed by what she had found. She once again decides it against better judgement to touch this liquid, and so she steps away and continues picking her way through the veritable scrapyard of armour that riddled the pathway, taking care not to step in any of the rapidly widening dark puddles that were spaced amongst it.

Though soon disaster strikes. Coming to another corner, Emmeline happily finds another guttering at the side of the wall which she ignites with her now fading torch. As the liquid within burns brightly she is dismayed to notice that the entire corridor ahead of her, as far as the gutter’s light would reveal at least, the floor is coated in that strange black substance.

It lays flat and still across the floor, with no discernible nature of where it came from, and no distinguishing features that would mark it as anything familiar. Cursing the obstacle that now presented itself, but not wishing to abandon this path and pick her way back to the entrance with barely anything to show for it, Emmeline paces at the edge of the puddle as she ponders her next course of action. Deciding to test out the substance, she looks around for something to throw into it and eventually settles on one of the gold coins she’d picked up earlier.

She looks at it sadly, always loathe to needlessly part with her plunder, before she tosses it into the goo.

It lands in the centre of the puddle with a clink, but fails to bounce out of it again. Nor however does it seem to sink into it, so it appeared that the substance wasn’t deeper than it seemed. Next she gingerly pokes her sword into it, the tip barely disappearing into the black. When she pulls it out it stains the edge of her sword but does little more, showing no signs of being corrosive or dangerous. With the idea of further treasure in her mind she resolves herself that she’ll simply have to chance it, and steps into the puddle.

Immediately… it splashes against her other leg. Looking down Emmeline feels a little foolish, as if she was hoping it would do something more reactive than simply splash. Though admittedly the lack of ripples was a little disconcerting at first, she simply accepted the dark nature of the liquid meant she just didn’t see them. Yeah. That was reassuring.

She begins to slowly step her way through the puddle, or rather what felt like a lake with how long it seemed to go on for, and finds little trouble in doing so. Simply one foot after the other, same as always. Eventually she decides it wasn’t worth being as scared as she was, and she felt that it was going to soak through into her boots and that simply wouldn’t do she reasoned, and so she begins walking at a normal pace.

After a little while she looks back behind her, raising her torch and finding that all she could see now were the walls on either side, and the goop that she had now wandered fully into the middle of, with no sign of the previous bank she had left from.

Pressing onwards, Emmeline feels a tinge of panic rise in her as she realises- slowly at first- that her steps were now becoming harder to make, as if her boots were being weighed down by something.

Or as was more likely, that the blackness beneath her was becoming stickier.

Glancing down at her feet Emmeline’s panic only rises, as she sees that while she wasn’t paying attention the puddle had gotten deeper, with her boots now becoming submerged in the substance. No, not submerged. Covered. The puddle remained the same, but the inky liquid was beginning to spread upwards over her boots. Determined she was not going to add another set to the piles of armour strewn behind her, Emmeline tries to break into a run to clear herself from the puddle. Only for her legs to start aching moments later as her steps become harder and harder to make, as if she were becoming glued to the spot.

And eventually, to her horror, she stops being able to lift her legs altogether.

Fixed where she was, Emmeline desperately tries to yank her legs free of the grasping ooze beneath her to no avail. Her heart beating faster, she curses her stupidity as she continues trying to wrench herself clear, and only succeeds in yanking her foot directly out of her boot. For a moment she felt air around her toes, before her off balance nature forced her to step down again lest she tumble face first into the blackness. As the sole of her foot feels the stone beneath the puddle, immediately the warm nature of it becomes clear to her as tingles begin to run through her skin.

She discovers however that despite her boot remaining stuck fast in the puddle, her bare foot was able to move almost freely, only being adhered to a little as opposed to her armour. Quickly she leans down and unbuckles her plated leg and unties her boot, pulling her foot free again. Hope filling her she finds she is able to move again, and she starts running once more, the ooze splashing against her bare feet and ankles, with some splattering upwards onto the rest of her clothing.

“Come on.. Come on! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…” She mutters to herself in a panic, before something catches her foot and she cries out in shock as she tumbles forwards. Landing heavily on her hands and knees, the torch slipping from her grip and landing barely sticking out of the puddle. Emmeline’s panic soars.

She finds herself unable to move once again, now held in an even more compromising and uncomfortable position as the warmth of the puddle surrounds her legs and hands, her body beginning to tingle further where it slipped beneath her clothing. Still however, it seemed that the ooze was only grasping to her armour and clothes. Still able to wriggle her feet with ease, she then begins to work her fingers out of her gloves to free herself a little more, and rises to a kneeling position once her hands are free.

Looking down she realises what is keeping her stuck in this position now.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me… What is this, a pervert slime?” She asks nobody in particular before she sighs, frantically unbuckling her belt and shaking her hips in an attempt to loosen her trousers.

Giving herself enough wiggle room eventually she was freed, and she stands once again. Barefoot and now bare assed in the depths of this tomb she was grateful that the only thing that seemed to be around to see her gorgeously curvaceous frame was this fucking puddle. With her painted backside now on show she picks up the torch once again and continues on her way.

Try as she might, Emmeline finds she is unable to ignore the growing dampness between her thighs, nor the heat that was building in her body. Every instinct in her mind told her that this was wrong, that it was the puddle causing her to feel this way, and yet her body still reacted to the effects of the black ooze that was now plastered to her feet and splashing up her legs. With one particular hurried step it splashes upwards against her nethers, and she has to bite her lip to stifle the moan that tries to escape her throat at the sensation.

She reaches down and tries to wipe it away, but her touch against her only sends another spike of pleasure running through her. As it rolls through her, her knee half buckles and she comes dangerously close to falling face first into the puddle once again.

Taking a few panting breaths Emmeline tries to focus her mind. “One foot, then the other, repeat. Don’t think about the puddle. Don’t touch the puddle. Don’t think about the fact the puddle is making you horny. Don’t.. Don’t think about the fact your legs are soaking. Don’t think about sitting down in the puddle. Gods this is driving me insane… What if I just- No, Emmeline. Don’t.”

These thoughts and others like them race through Emmeline’s head as the fire within her only builds further, and she finds her steps slowing as she shifts uncomfortably on her feet. Eventually it becomes unbearable and Emmeline comes to a halt, her hand sliding down to her wettened flesh, rubbing and massaging her clit before her fingers slip within. At first she tries to continue walking albeit slowly, but the waves of pleasure that roll through her from the effects of the blackness surrounding her feet make her unable to move, all but paralysing her on the spot.

And yet despite how heightened her pleasure was, and however desperately she tried to bring herself to release it never arrives, only frustrating her more. It was then that the tomb’s final trick befell her.

As her fingers work to bring her climax, Emmeline fails to notice as from a crack above her another line of the darkness pours forth. It slowly drops from the ceiling and onto the back of her armour, adhering to it tightly as it had done beforehand. Emmeline only notices when she feels the warmth of the ooze slide between the cheeks of her ass, and by then it’s too late to get free. Surprised at the sudden warmth she looks up and sees what’s happened, cursing her stupidity and trying to pull herself away.

Though try as she might to dislodge herself, when the ooze joins the puddle it becomes rigid and stiff, freezing her in place entirely. Realising she’s faced with only one course of action, Emmeline quickly tries to unbuckle what remains of her armour to set herself free of the trap she’s now bound to. With the torch getting in the way Emmeline throws it forward, and to her surprise hears it clatter onto the stone.