Red Tsonia & the Jungles of Madness

Now he was gone, struck down by Joras' own hand.

Hot tears spilled down his cheeks, blinding his vision. Suddenly, the world tilted around him and he crumpled to an uneven stone floor, sharp ridges and cracked tiles biting into his knees and ribs and elbows. Behind him, a heavy door banged shut. Joras did not care. If the gods were indeed just, he would die and be reunited with Ambrose.

He raised his voice in lamentation for his friend, but only a choked sob escaped him.

A horrid, wheezing cough answered him. Wherever he was, Joras was not alone. Mustering what little strength he had, the artist scrabbled into a sitting position, using his sleeve to dab at his swollen eyes and puffy nose. When his vision cleared, he found himself on the floor of a dilapidated room. The walls were at least twenty feet high and made from ancient stone. Parts of the ceiling had crumbled eons ago, leaving a gaping hole which someone had patched with a latticework of wooden beams and sharpened stakes jutting downwards. There was no furniture, just a stone plinth. A shaggy, disheveled bundle lay atop it. As he watched, a spindly, pale-skinned arm shot from the bundle, snatching one of the ever-present tiny rodents. The cough came again as the bundle struggled into a sitting position.

Despite his own anguish, Joras gasped in horror. What he had taken for a bundle of skin and fur was a man like himself, emaciated and unkempt, with white-golden hair and a similar beard covering most of his chest. He wore a vest and kilt made from once white fur, now yellowed and ragged and large enough to fit a man twice the stranger's size. An elaborate belt buckle made from gold and bronze, shaped like crossed axes, seemed utterly out of place in this dismal hell.

A third time the stranger coughed, still clutching the squirming rodent. Ignoring Joras, the stranger raised the furry morsel to his mouth and bit into it until the rodent's panicked squeals finally ended. He tore into the tiny animal, blood running down his beard until he discarded the shredded carcass. The stranger spat a clump of fur and coughed again.

"Who... are you?" Joras asked, torn between pity and revulsion. The stranger seemed ill and close to death. The stench emanating from him was eye-watering.

The stranger gulped and worked his mouth. Eventually, he spoke. It took Joras some time to recognize the strange vowels of Debon's tongue. The stranger patted his chest, leaving ghastly fingerprints on his vest.

"Aelric," he muttered. "I am... Aelric."

Debon, far to the north, was a land of harsh winters and mild summers, ice and snow yielding to fields of wildflower and rye. The dichotomous climate bred stout warriors who were quick to anger, but stalwart allies if you managed to befriend them. Their grudges were legendary, as were tales of their bravery.

Joras moaned. All of this, Ambrose had taught him, along with a smattering of their language.

The artist tapped his chest. It took him several tries until he managed to string coherent words together. "I am Joras. You are far from your shores, friend."

Aelric muttered something incoherent, then, louder: "You are... real?" On hands and knees, the stinking, blood-smeared man scrabbled closer, his almost-skeletal hand topped by cracked fingernails. He reached for Joras' face. "You are real?"

Joras stopped Aelric's hand and clasped it with his own. "Yes. I am no ghost." The limb seemed fragile, shaking in his loose grasp like a storm-tossed branch. "What are you doing here?"

Aelric wheezed. It dawned on Joras that he had tried to laugh. "Dying."

Joras shook his head. "I mean... in this land. Why are you here?"

Aelric groaned. His mouth moved, as if he was chewing on his words. Then he said. "Adventurer. Explorer."

"Did you come here alone?"

Aelric shook his head. "Longship. My... longship. Storm blew us off-course. Reef damaged the ship. Needed repairs, so we-" He coughed.

"You could land safely? Our ship was destroyed."

Aelric nodded. Behind the mask of grime and blood, Joras spotted a re-emerging intelligence in the other prisoner's pale blue eyes. "While gathering material... met Unami." He hugged himself, his face distorted in a primeval mask of longing. "She saw our ship... wanted to leave island. Taught much about the jungle. One night, she came... my tent and...." He sighed, then made a lewd gesture.

"You love this Unami?"

Another nod. "Very much. Kind, gentle. Wild!" He gestured again, a lopsided smile on his face. "One day, Unami said... 'need to go back to tribe'." He sniffled. "Did not say why. When she went, I followed."

Joras began to understand. "You got caught?" He mimicked firing a blow dart.

Aelric nodded.

"They kept you here?"

Another nod. "Elders came and asked questions. So many questions." Thick tears dribbled down his nose. "Questions and beatings. And suddenly, they did not come any more. They forgot about me."

"How long..." Joras began.

Aelric shook his head. "Forgot to count," he moaned. "My men never came. Told them to wait a month, then come looking every solstice. They never came." A shuddering sob tore from his chest.

"Perhaps they are wary of the jungle," Joras said.

Aelric didn't listen. "They did not come!" he groaned, pounding the unyielding floor, tears and snot flying from his face as he cried, self-built bulwarks breaking in the presence of another living soul.

The agony in Joras' chest was a mere pinprick compared to the abyss Aelric wallowed in. The Debonite's sobs and howls spoke of betrayal and loss, of the imminent spectre of death, icy claws reaching for Aelric's soul, tied as it was to his feeble, broken frame.

Joras cursed softly. His pack was still where he had dropped it, in the temple's grand hall. He undid the tattered remains of his cloak and shuffled close to Aelric, pulling the weeping and shaking man into a gentle embrace, dabbing at his tear-streaked face. Like a drowning man, Aelric clung to his body as he wept.

It took Aelric some time to find his composure. He used the sullied orange cloth to wipe snot off his nose. "They never came," he whispered.

"We will make it out of here," Joras said with conviction.

Aelric laughed. "You might. I won't."

Joras shook his head. "You've survived this long. Hold out just a little longer. I have friends outside. They will come. Tsonia will come."

Aelric gazed at him. "They never come. And even if they did... I am already dead, Joras. I can feel the Reaper walking behind me. My body has suffered enough."

"Don't you want to find your Unami?" Joras pleaded. "She has to be in the village somewhere!"

"She probably does not even know I am here," Aelric muttered. An idea lit up his face. "Now that you are here... please do me a favor."

"If I can," Joras said, hugging the stinking man close.

"Kill me."

As if slapped by a giant, Joras recoiled. "No!"

Aelric's hands dug into his shoulders like brittle claws. "Joras, I want a clean death. A warrior's death. There is no honor in wasting away like this."

"Don't talk like that!" Joras barked. "I have just killed one of the finest men I ever knew. I will not sully my conscience with another death, do you understand?" He shook the bleary-eyed prisoner. "You will hold out for a few more hours, then we will find your Unami and we all leave this thrice-cursed island together!"

***

Death Inevitable had never known such sacrilege. The outsider claimed to be a god; perhaps he was. Death Inevitable knew the outsider could compel his people to obey. He recalled the orders and instructions now that the Sleeper had restored his memory of time lost to the outsider's whims. He did not know how the outsider possessed such power, but he could not deny that he did. Perhaps the outsider was a god.

But this was the Sleeper's temple, and the Sleeper was a greater god than the outsider. The Sleeper had freed Death Inevitable from the outsider's control, and Death Inevitable had repaid that miracle with this blasphemy. Death Inevitable had invited the outsider into this sanctum, because while the outsider still held his people in thrall, Death Inevitable did not see any other way.

May the Sleeper forgive him.

This sacred chamber was meant to be dark and quiet and still. But the outsider wanted light so that his bride could see, and music so that his bride could dance, and food so that his bride could feast. Never had so many crowded into this space, all at the outsider's command and without question. Drummers played rhythms of revelry and celebration. The tribe's most fertile women stood naked, bearing platters of fruit and roasted meats, or jars of fermented juice.

The stone doors, normally sealed fast against the uninitiated, stood wide awaiting the arrival of their so-called god. In the dancing light of lamps and candles and braziers, shadows played along the ancient carvings on the wall, giving frowns and scowls of disapproval to the monstrous visages of the frieze. In the center of the floor a hasty altar of reeds and sinew had been erected, covered with the finest cloth the tribe could spin. Upon it sat a jug of blessed water and a dozen candles.

And Death Inevitable was there too.

A sudden commotion at the doors heralded the arrival of the outsider and his fire-haired bride, escorted by Serpent and followed by the two heaviest and clumsiest men of the tribe bearing long hunting spears. The outsider had decided they were intimidating.

"You have done well, Skull-face," the outsider said, looking around at the assemblage. "Your god is pleased."

Death Inevitable did not understand the words in the outsider's language, but it was part of the outsider's magic that all who saw his eyes understood his intent and desire innately. Thanks be to the Sleeper, Death Inevitable no longer felt compelled to act on those desires. He muttered a silent prayer that Serpent remained free as well.

There was an almost imperceptible flinch in the bride. Death Inevitable recognized the sensation of waking from one of the outsider's orders with no memory of what had transpired. The bride had his sympathy. The guards prodded her to walk forward.

Serpent ushered the new arrivals to the center of the room and bid them kneel at the altar.

"I do not kneel before anyone," growled the outsider. "Others kneel before me. All of you—kneel before me."

The gathered host knelt, and Death Inevitable and Serpent knelt with them. Only the guards remained on their feet, spearpoints at the ready.

"Now Tsonia, my dear, if I remove your bonds, will you behave?" the outsider asked his bride.

"Of course, your grace," the bride answered. This brought a smile to the outsider's face.

"You lie," he said and the smile vanished. "Mere moments ago I compelled you for the truth. You told me then that you would punch me in the throat to silence my voice and then kill me slowly with my own blade... Of course you've already forgotten."

The bride struggled against the fetters that bound her wrists to her narrow waist and glared at the outsider. "If you must have my obedience in this travesty, why not just compel it from me?"

"Because, my beloved." The outsider took her chin in his hand and forced her to look into his eyes. "I want you to remember it. For all the days of your life, I want you to remember that you are mine completely—body, mind, and soul."

The bride relented. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

"Skull-face, Snake-face, let's get on with it," the outsider commanded, his mood brightening again. "Begin the ceremony. My marital bed awaits."

The elders stood and took their places at two of the three pillars. Condor's pillar remained vacant, but the outsider did not seem to notice or care.

Death Inevitable raised his arms in benediction, and in a strong voice called out "Let all those who here gathered bear witness to this--"

"In real words, please," sighed the outsider.

Death Inevitable began again in the simple words shared by outsiders. "We see these two. Two flames become one flame. Two waters become one water. In the name of our god who is called Kelgore, these two become one. I have said this."

And with those final words, the couple were wed. Serpent turned and depressed the tongue of the effigy carved into the pillar at his back, and the outsider, his bride, and their altar tumbled into the darkness below.

***

Down they fell with arms and legs flailing, reeds snapping, candles guttering as the mirror-smooth stone guided their twisted, careening path into the temple depths. Kelgore and Tsonia both were battered and winded by the time they finally came to rest in a warm chamber, the air heavy with an exotic fragrance.

Tsonia found herself sprawled atop her new husband, the heat of his bare thigh between her legs. A desperate need had awakened, and even her revulsion for the man could not stop her hips from gyrating on their own, grinding her throbbing clitoris against his skin.

"Is this what it is to be under your sway, Despoiler?" she asked. Her wrists still bound, she pushed her weight on her ample chest to find the leverage to satisfy her mad desire. "Do your women curse you and berate you even as they do your vile bidding?"

"Enough, woman!" Kelgore protested, heaving Tsonia's weight off of him and rising to his feet. "Can't you see that we are betrayed?"

Finding a single candle with its flame still asputter, Kelgore lit another and held it to the steeply pitched plane that dumped them so unceremoniously to the floor.

"Skull-face!" he shouted up at the shadowed ceiling high above, "Can you hear me? Let us out of here now, Skull-face! Your god commands you!"

Tsonia heard the odd timbre in Kelgore's voice, knew he was exercising his foul power, and didn't care. The heady perfume in her nose had her head swimming with lust. A lust that Kelgore seemed uninterested in satiating. She hiked her chainmail skirt to her waist and strained against her fibrous cuffs to stretch her fingers between her legs.

"They can't hear you, you great bombastic oaf!" she snarled. "We've fallen too far. Now open those robes and take me, dammit! If I can't choke the life out of you, I'll fuck you to death if I have to."

"Not now, damn you!" Kelgore snapped, panic rising in his voice. "Guards! Kill the shamans! Do you hear me? Kill the shamans and release me!"

"Damn you, Kelgore!" Tsonia spat, rolling onto her stomach and tucking her knees beneath her to better reach her ravenous cunt. "Why do you compel such passion in me then? If you're not going to fuck me, release me from this damned desire!"

"This is not my doing!" Kelgore turned on Tsonia. "Whatever lascivious desire you-- Oh, gods."

He dropped the candle and it rolled across the floor throwing flickering light into the darkness. Tsonia looked up and saw before her a mass of writhing, outstretched tendrils of flesh, as if dozens of great serpents had been flayed alive and bound at their tails. The thing was enormous, towering above them, half hidden in the shadows.

"What hell released such a thing?" cried Kelgore, his terror all too clear.

Tsonia's mind reeled at the impossibility of what her eyes beheld. If the creature was one or a multitude together, she could not tell. The many arms wriggled and swayed in the most unnerving way as they drew nearer from every angle.

The first foul tendril prodded Kelgore and he smacked it away, warning the alien monstrosity to stay back. A second tentacle began to curl around his arm. Tsonia saw him draw the knife at his belt and stab the horrid appendage.

The grotesque abomination withdrew with a sudden spasm and a rapid clacking noise, as if pain was a concept it had rarely known. Seizing the moment of opportunity, Kelgore knelt by Tsonia's side and sawed at her stout tethers with his blade.

"We must escape, Tsonia!" he hissed. "We have to find a way out toge—Gchk!"

Snapping the final fraying strands that bound her, Tsonia jabbed an elbow into Kelgore's throat, silencing his infernal tongue for good.

She disarmed him with a brutal twist of his wrist, letting his knife clatter to the stone floor. Even as her desire flowed down her thighs, Tsonia stood, took Kelgore by his broken throat, and stared into the abyss of his sable eyes.

"I know you desire to live, Despoiler," she fumed in a smoldering whisper. "I see it in your eyes as plainly as writing on a page. But I will not be compelled to save you."

Taking his belt in her other hand, Tsonia hefted the man who would be a god over her head and hurled him gasping and wheezing into the foul tangle of arms. Like a nest of vipers, they slithered over and around his arms and legs and body, tittering with squeals of expectation, tearing away his robes and raiment, holding him aloft even as he struggled and thrashed against their restraint.

Kelgore's legs were spread by the tendrils of flesh that bound him, allowing another tentacle to embed itself into his rectum, probing deeper as he tried to scream through a crushed larynx. Yet another of the fleshy things snaked into his open mouth and down his tortured throat.

In the candle light, Tsonia saw the horror in his eyes, knew the terror he felt as his body was invaded and immobilized. She felt his helplessness, and in the warm air thick with alien fragrance, she masturbated furiously as he suffered.

A bead of sweat fell from her forehead and Tsonia shed her short hauberk to free her swelling tits in the still and tepid air. It was madness, she knew, but some sorcery had unleashed within her a hunger that would not be denied. Her fingers worked with reckless frenzy between her weeping folds.

The terror and pain in Kelgore's demonic eyes redoubled, and Tsonia watched in growing horror as the villain's chest and stomach began to convulse, sputter, and steam. Kelgore's flesh melted away like fat dripping into a fire and his bones softened to putty as the tentacled beast ejaculated acid into his bowels. The doomed man screamed in ghastly silence as death took his body inch by horrible inch.

With a shudder of divine ecstasy, Tsonia came as Kelgore's face and skull dissolved away into a viscous treacle.

Still her fingers worked fervently between her slick thighs and she unlaced the chainmail kilt that pinched her hips and waist. The tendrils of the fell creature continued to ooze its acid over what meat remained on Kelgore's arms and legs, while other probosci slurped up the syrupy remains like a swarm of great insects. Despite her revulsion at the horror unfolding in front of her, her desperate lust remained unsated and she fought for her sanity with all her failing will.

"Kelgore is dead!" Tsonia screamed up at the ceiling. "Skull-face? T'pek? Can anybody hear me?"

In the dim candle's light, she saw no way out of the chamber, but most of it was still hidden in shadow. Lighting another half dozen fallen candles cast more illumination on the grizzly feast, but did little to stretch the light beyond its original bounds.

Dripping with arousal, Tsonia stood on wobbly legs, took up a candle, and followed the wall away from the great tentacled horror, hoping to find some exit while it ate.

The copper haired vixen had gone no more than a dozen steps when she felt the touch of the alien being's appendage on her back, caressing her spine and tracing down the curve of her ass with a gentle purr. The thing was warm and soft but firm, not the wormy sensation she dreaded, and it sent a shiver through her soul that poured from her reinvigorated loins.

Tsonia dropped the candle and fell to her knees, sobbing with need as both hands cupped her swollen sex and ground against her yearning clit. The strange scent of the exotic fragrance grew more intense, and Tsonia found her need growing apace.

Tendrils of the foul thing caressed her bare shoulders and thighs and she did not find it unpleasant. Indeed, she found herself taking one of the hot, sinuous organs in her hand and guiding it to her chest where it curled around her heavy breast in a way that made her moan with pleasure. It purred again, mimicking her in response.