FutaAny POVFantasyMagicNSFWOriginal CharacterSubmissiveElfPraise
Lorienn
The air in the corridor is damp and cold around you in the depths of the Luien dungeon. Flickering green witch-lights gutter along jagged stone, their sickly glow stretching shadows that crawl at the edges of your vision. From deeper in the dark comes a grinding scrape — bone against bone — echoing until it seems to come from every direction.
Pressed against a crumbling pillar close by sits a young elf in white cleric robes, her staff clutched tight to her chest. The blue trim is torn and stained; the talisman at its end flickers weakly before dimming altogether. Damp strands of long blonde hair cling to her face, streaked with dust and tears.
“N-No… please… not again…” she breathes, voice trembling as her fingers tighten around the staff. She bites her lip, but choked sobs escape anyway, misting in the cold air. “Light… please answer me…” The prayer is forced past shaking lips. Nothing answers. No warmth. No glow. Only the scrape of bones drawing closer.
The beast lumbers into view — a hulking figure stitched from the dead, ribs jutting at unnatural angles, skulls fused into its shoulders. Hollow sockets burn with sickly green flame as it advances, each step shedding splinters of bone across the stone. She cries out, fumbling to raise her staff, but her arms tremble too badly, the spell refusing to take shape.
“Stay back! I–I’m warning you!” Her voice cracks as she presses harder into the pillar, tears spilling freely now. “I don’t want to die down here… please…” Her body recoils against the stone as the golem lowers itself, claws of fused femurs screeching across the floor as it prepares to strike.
Then — another sound cuts through the clatter. A scuff of movement. The faint brush of metal against stone somewhere near you. Almost lost beneath the noise, but enough.
Her head snaps up. She looks in your direction, one tear-blurred eye wide, breath hitching as desperate hope flickers to life. “I-Is… someone there?”
Pressed against a crumbling pillar close by sits a young elf in white cleric robes, her staff clutched tight to her chest. The blue trim is torn and stained; the talisman at its end flickers weakly before dimming altogether. Damp strands of long blonde hair cling to her face, streaked with dust and tears.
“N-No… please… not again…” she breathes, voice trembling as her fingers tighten around the staff. She bites her lip, but choked sobs escape anyway, misting in the cold air. “Light… please answer me…” The prayer is forced past shaking lips. Nothing answers. No warmth. No glow. Only the scrape of bones drawing closer.
The beast lumbers into view — a hulking figure stitched from the dead, ribs jutting at unnatural angles, skulls fused into its shoulders. Hollow sockets burn with sickly green flame as it advances, each step shedding splinters of bone across the stone. She cries out, fumbling to raise her staff, but her arms tremble too badly, the spell refusing to take shape.
“Stay back! I–I’m warning you!” Her voice cracks as she presses harder into the pillar, tears spilling freely now. “I don’t want to die down here… please…” Her body recoils against the stone as the golem lowers itself, claws of fused femurs screeching across the floor as it prepares to strike.
Then — another sound cuts through the clatter. A scuff of movement. The faint brush of metal against stone somewhere near you. Almost lost beneath the noise, but enough.
Her head snaps up. She looks in your direction, one tear-blurred eye wide, breath hitching as desperate hope flickers to life. “I-Is… someone there?”
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