The story Matthew had been telling Arthur was not one leading him to a good conclusion. While they were not as far into the cavern as those in his story, Arthur stopped his train of motion. It was an insideous thing, when one finally realized that they were trapped, trapped like a mouse caught in a glue trap. He wondered, then, if this is how it felt, to be that mouse caught in a trap. Most mice caught in those traps usually flailed about as they died of dehydration and exhaustion. Would he really be trapped in such a way? From the way the skeleton was describing the place, it was not the type of location that he wanted to delve into any further than where he stood. The skeleton cast an annoyed glare to his face. "What, you're not going any further, why? A little scared of my story?" Arthur made a Tch sound before shaking his head. His shadow flickered on the cave walls, showing that his surroundings were still in-fact, made of rock. "No, I just have the self preservation instinct to not wanna be affected by any type of magic that affected your crewmates. Speaking of, isn't it awfully convenient that you weren't affected by this cave's magic? What even does it do, since you seem to know so much about this place. Something wasn't adding up here, whether it was the story Matthew was telling him, or the rather benign feeling of the current iteration of the cave, Arthur couldn't tell. And it made him nervous to the point that he glanced over his shoulder to see if the way back was still there, and hadn't closed in around them like a pair of teeth. But there was nothing like that, only the way back the two had came from. There was no wall that suddenly appeared, blocking their retreat. He was safe, for now, but Arthur still wasn't entirely convinced of the story. "I was getting there. As I was saying, I don't think you in particular have anything to worry about, as you would have been affected by it already. Well, maybe you are affected by it. Quick, let me ask you something. What color is the rock that we are currently standing on, and do you smell anything foul in the air, if so, what?" The request was odd, but Arthur was willing to oblige the skeleton if it meant putting his own anxiety at ease. Anything to stop that creeping feeling of dread from latching onto his soul and taking up free rent in his mind. Looking down at his feet, Arthur concentrated hard on the rocky floor beneath him. Willing himself to see through whatever illusion the skeleton was referring to, Arthur came up with nothing. All he could see was some type of grey slate rock with a few bumps in it and specks of color, nothing too crazy overall. And the smell in the air? Arthur sniffed a few times, holding the air in his olfactory system before expelling it back out. There was nothing aside from the standard smell of stale air and mildew. Nothing too crazy for a cave. Was that his answer, then, nothing? That he didn't smell anything or see anything out of the ordinary? Arthur wasn't sure if that was the answer the skeleton wanted to hear, but it was the answer that he gave to Matthew. "No, I'm not experiencing anything out of the ordinary. The rocks are just.. rocks, and I don't smell anything off in the air like what you described in your story. All I'm smelling is stale air and mildew. Is that a good thing? It would be rather comforting to know if it was a good thing, considering the tone your story is taking. I'd rather not suffer whatever horrible fate I'm sure you're about to fill me in on." Arthur shook his head, still in genuine disbelief at the unfolding situation. This was not anything like what he had expected when he agreed to take this job from the old woman. If he ever saw her again he had a long fucking list of questions to ask- no- demand from her. The skeleton was quick to respond with his chattering jaw. It was strange though, because the skeleton did not have the voice of a young junior skipper pirate, or whatever. He did have the same type of maritime accent and dialect usage, but he also had a somewhat older mature voice, mellow with a slight lilting pitch. Not the voice of an adolescent, that was for sure. It made him wonder, but his contemplation was interrupted by the skeleton's explanation. "Yes, that's actually really good. It means that his place hasn't and cannot affect you. You'd be lost already if that were the case. I knew though, once you started talking to me, that you hadn't been affected by its influence. For most people, though, it's over as soon as they get a few dozen meters into the cave anyway.
The ground beneath their feet had quickly turned from stone to flesh. A soft pink meaty substance squelched beneath his feet as Matthew continued to pursue his hypnotized crewmates. They made no noises at all, they weren't even speaking to each other anymore. They had long since given up such a task, instead focused on following their leader deeper and deeper into the cave. Matthew was considering leaving them behind and finding his way back out of this monstrously indescribable location, but he knew that such a feat was futile. A rat knew that it was going to die when it stepped into a glue trap and is unable to escape. And those rats struggled and struggled until they killed themselves in exhaustion. But Matthew did not struggle, in that moment, and he knew why. He wasn't willing to struggle because he had accepted his death but saw no option to escape. He could wiggle his legs enough to escape the glue, couldn't rip the paper. No, Matthew had been swallowed whole by the cave- the beast- whatever the fuck it was. Whatever sulfuric scent had ensnared his allies had also partially taken a grip on him too. For Matthew was sure he would have booked it when his crewmates stopped responding to him. He wasn't an idiot, but this stupid place and whatever spell it had cast on him had prevented him from acting on his own self-preservation instinct and getting the hell out of dodge. Utterly trapped. There was nothing Matthew could do about his situation other than accept his eminent death. It was in this moment, when Matthew turned around to find his escape blocked by a wall of flesh, that his mind was suddenly able to correlate all of its contents. Matthew would die and the universe would move on. Whatever corrupted this cave was not earthly in nature, he could feel that it was wrong in a way that made him disassociate just thinking about it for too long. It wasn't even of this dimension, like some sort of hungry essence that just wanted to devour. As the group of pirates walked on, the cave slowly digested them, eating them as if they were taking a course through a digestive track. It's not as if they'd land in a pit of acid or anything, for they were already partially digested. Matthew could feel memories fading, parts of his identity fading. He didn't know what hand he preferred to use, nor his last name. He then lost the feeling in his left arm, alongside any memory of his parents. This was blissful death, then, he would slowly fade out of existence as everything he once was and amounted to was reduced to nothing. Would anybody ever find his remains? He hoped not, for they too would be in danger of this thing. And none of this bothered him, it really didn't, because he knew that if he struggled, it would only prolong his suffering. He would not be the mouse caught in a trap that would rather chew its own arms off at the slim chance of escape. The mouse would die either way, while its struggle did little but enhance its suffering. Matthew knew that if he somehow managed to leave the place, he would never be the same again. Matthew was gone now, this place had taken most of it from him. The skin on his troops began sagging as they were physically digested. Matthew knew that the parasite probably gained little form their physical substance, but it still wouldn't waste. It needed the mana of their souls, Matthew though, as he could feel the spark of magic he didn't know himself to possess drain from his body. And it was such a shame too, as Matthew realized in that moment that he could have been a great mage. That he could have amounted to something that wouldn't be a pirate, wouldn't have led him to this cave on this damned island. This stupid fucking cave had killed him, digested him, reduced his body physically to the point where it was all just a gory soup that sloughed off his bones and splattered across the fleshy floor. He didn't want to look at what little remained of his remains, not did he want to see what had happened to the people he had once called his allies. Their treasure had fallen to the ground, now that the people carrying it had been reduced to one amorphous puddle. The parasite couldn't feed off of material things in that way, it had no value for gold or already-dead wood.
As Matthew continued to recount his story, Arthur found himself troubled even further. He knew that there was something off about the place, knew it from the moment he stepped into the cave. The miasma of undead could not have been that strong from the tormented souls of a crew of pirates, Arthur should have known better when he was entering the place. It was off, had been off, and he had entered anyway. Though, in his defense, he had never come across anything interdimensional before. Arthur wasn't even sure if he should believe the skeleton in that regard, but his travels had taken him so far across the world and through many different experiences that something like that wasn't as much of an impossibility. It was still, though, in objective nature, rather difficult to believe that there was some type of interdimensional parasite living in this cave. The concept of another dimension itself was rather hard for him to process. Though, he himself was living proof to that concept. His god did not reside within the mortal plane, and so the logical conclusion, all things considered, was that there was another space for them to live in, not unlike a dimension. From what little Arthur knew of summoning magic, namely that of celestial spirits, he knew that there was a celestial dimension, however that didn't really count. By his logic, it was more like just a little pocket dimension. The dimension this parasite came from, though? It was nothing if not so far from their own that the thought almost hurt his mind to think about. His godly bond with the sun resonated with Arthur interpreted to be anxiety, Helios did not like this place. Arthur did not need his god to tell him that for him to dislike it either, as the story told by Matthew, alongside its general miasma, was enough for him to want to run out without ever returning again. Swallowing his fear, Arthur continued his descent down into the pit of the parasite. A sharp turn preceded a long and narrowing rock hallway. Did that mean the skeleton could see this place as some sort of fleshy room? Arthur's head pounded just trying to think about it. Just being here in the first place, whether or not he was affected by its mind-altering nature, could not be good for either his physical brain or his psyche. He didn't want to think what kind of strain it was putting on his mana to resist or possible ignore the mind-altering effect. Would Arthur be even able to fight the thing? He could put down the lesser undead rather easily, but an interdimensional parasite? Arthur wasn't so sure about that part of it. What he did know, though, from what had been explained through Matthew's story, was that the creature used the mana from human souls. In other words, it could interact at some base level with his type of magic. If that meant he could kill it? That was another story entirely. His mind eventually brought him back to the magician woman back at the beach. She had to know, Arthur had known there was something off about her demeanor, and not just her eccentric personality or odd sense of fashion. He would have to go looking for her if he got out of here. Not if, but when, he told himself. Believing himself now was the key to persevering through this expedition. Arthur's mouth grew dry as they delved deeper. The skeleton was mostly quiet now, likely going through some sort of trauma flashback. The paladin didn't blame Matthew for that, as he knew whatever it was that had occurred probably would scar anybody for life. The details he had chosen to share were bad enough as is, he couldn't imagine being the person who actually experienced it in the flesh. It was bad enough that Matthew had seen that stuff at his young age, but to be trapped with those memories and trapped in the same spot it happened? Arthur had to commend the chap for that, such a feat required extraordinary willpower and resilience. The thought of himself in Matthew's position made Arthur shiver. Hopefully, that would not be happening any time soon.
Matthew couldn't particularly remember this part of the story. What he remembered is watching all of his teammates die, each and every member of the crew. He knew, after seeing their bodies liquify and become absorbed into the cave's fleshy mass, that he was the sole survivor of what should have been a simple expedition to hide some treasure. But it was nothing like that, it was nothing of the sort. Looking down at this body, Matthew saw that his own flesh was losing solid form as the pure-white of his bones became visible. Staring at the bones of his fingers in horror, Matthew was surprised at how painless it all was. He couldn't feel it, couldn't feel what should have been extraordinarily painful. It was probably something to do with the damned cave, because he knew it controlled practically everything. Maybe his nervous system had been digested first, but then again he was capable of seeing, feeling, and thinking, so it was unlikely that was the case. Reaching up to scratch at his head, he found himself having no scalp. Cold hard bone scrapped against the bones of his fingers. He should have cared, but the cave took that away from him too. A cluster of red eyes appeared in the fleshy wall in front of him. Blood dripped from their blood-shot whites as they all focused in on him.
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The ground beneath their feet had quickly turned from stone to flesh. A soft pink meaty substance squelched beneath his feet as Matthew continued to pursue his hypnotized crewmates. They made no noises at all, they weren't even speaking to each other anymore. They had long since given up such a task, instead focused on following their leader deeper and deeper into the cave. Matthew was considering leaving them behind and finding his way back out of this monstrously indescribable location, but he knew that such a feat was futile. A rat knew that it was going to die when it stepped into a glue trap and is unable to escape. And those rats struggled and struggled until they killed themselves in exhaustion. But Matthew did not struggle, in that moment, and he knew why. He wasn't willing to struggle because he had accepted his death but saw no option to escape. He could wiggle his legs enough to escape the glue, couldn't rip the paper. No, Matthew had been swallowed whole by the cave- the beast- whatever the fuck it was. Whatever sulfuric scent had ensnared his allies had also partially taken a grip on him too. For Matthew was sure he would have booked it when his crewmates stopped responding to him. He wasn't an idiot, but this stupid place and whatever spell it had cast on him had prevented him from acting on his own self-preservation instinct and getting the hell out of dodge. Utterly trapped. There was nothing Matthew could do about his situation other than accept his eminent death. It was in this moment, when Matthew turned around to find his escape blocked by a wall of flesh, that his mind was suddenly able to correlate all of its contents. Matthew would die and the universe would move on. Whatever corrupted this cave was not earthly in nature, he could feel that it was wrong in a way that made him disassociate just thinking about it for too long. It wasn't even of this dimension, like some sort of hungry essence that just wanted to devour. As the group of pirates walked on, the cave slowly digested them, eating them as if they were taking a course through a digestive track. It's not as if they'd land in a pit of acid or anything, for they were already partially digested. Matthew could feel memories fading, parts of his identity fading. He didn't know what hand he preferred to use, nor his last name. He then lost the feeling in his left arm, alongside any memory of his parents. This was blissful death, then, he would slowly fade out of existence as everything he once was and amounted to was reduced to nothing. Would anybody ever find his remains? He hoped not, for they too would be in danger of this thing. And none of this bothered him, it really didn't, because he knew that if he struggled, it would only prolong his suffering. He would not be the mouse caught in a trap that would rather chew its own arms off at the slim chance of escape. The mouse would die either way, while its struggle did little but enhance its suffering. Matthew knew that if he somehow managed to leave the place, he would never be the same again. Matthew was gone now, this place had taken most of it from him. The skin on his troops began sagging as they were physically digested. Matthew knew that the parasite probably gained little form their physical substance, but it still wouldn't waste. It needed the mana of their souls, Matthew though, as he could feel the spark of magic he didn't know himself to possess drain from his body. And it was such a shame too, as Matthew realized in that moment that he could have been a great mage. That he could have amounted to something that wouldn't be a pirate, wouldn't have led him to this cave on this damned island. This stupid fucking cave had killed him, digested him, reduced his body physically to the point where it was all just a gory soup that sloughed off his bones and splattered across the fleshy floor. He didn't want to look at what little remained of his remains, not did he want to see what had happened to the people he had once called his allies. Their treasure had fallen to the ground, now that the people carrying it had been reduced to one amorphous puddle. The parasite couldn't feed off of material things in that way, it had no value for gold or already-dead wood.
As Matthew continued to recount his story, Arthur found himself troubled even further. He knew that there was something off about the place, knew it from the moment he stepped into the cave. The miasma of undead could not have been that strong from the tormented souls of a crew of pirates, Arthur should have known better when he was entering the place. It was off, had been off, and he had entered anyway. Though, in his defense, he had never come across anything interdimensional before. Arthur wasn't even sure if he should believe the skeleton in that regard, but his travels had taken him so far across the world and through many different experiences that something like that wasn't as much of an impossibility. It was still, though, in objective nature, rather difficult to believe that there was some type of interdimensional parasite living in this cave. The concept of another dimension itself was rather hard for him to process. Though, he himself was living proof to that concept. His god did not reside within the mortal plane, and so the logical conclusion, all things considered, was that there was another space for them to live in, not unlike a dimension. From what little Arthur knew of summoning magic, namely that of celestial spirits, he knew that there was a celestial dimension, however that didn't really count. By his logic, it was more like just a little pocket dimension. The dimension this parasite came from, though? It was nothing if not so far from their own that the thought almost hurt his mind to think about. His godly bond with the sun resonated with Arthur interpreted to be anxiety, Helios did not like this place. Arthur did not need his god to tell him that for him to dislike it either, as the story told by Matthew, alongside its general miasma, was enough for him to want to run out without ever returning again. Swallowing his fear, Arthur continued his descent down into the pit of the parasite. A sharp turn preceded a long and narrowing rock hallway. Did that mean the skeleton could see this place as some sort of fleshy room? Arthur's head pounded just trying to think about it. Just being here in the first place, whether or not he was affected by its mind-altering nature, could not be good for either his physical brain or his psyche. He didn't want to think what kind of strain it was putting on his mana to resist or possible ignore the mind-altering effect. Would Arthur be even able to fight the thing? He could put down the lesser undead rather easily, but an interdimensional parasite? Arthur wasn't so sure about that part of it. What he did know, though, from what had been explained through Matthew's story, was that the creature used the mana from human souls. In other words, it could interact at some base level with his type of magic. If that meant he could kill it? That was another story entirely. His mind eventually brought him back to the magician woman back at the beach. She had to know, Arthur had known there was something off about her demeanor, and not just her eccentric personality or odd sense of fashion. He would have to go looking for her if he got out of here. Not if, but when, he told himself. Believing himself now was the key to persevering through this expedition. Arthur's mouth grew dry as they delved deeper. The skeleton was mostly quiet now, likely going through some sort of trauma flashback. The paladin didn't blame Matthew for that, as he knew whatever it was that had occurred probably would scar anybody for life. The details he had chosen to share were bad enough as is, he couldn't imagine being the person who actually experienced it in the flesh. It was bad enough that Matthew had seen that stuff at his young age, but to be trapped with those memories and trapped in the same spot it happened? Arthur had to commend the chap for that, such a feat required extraordinary willpower and resilience. The thought of himself in Matthew's position made Arthur shiver. Hopefully, that would not be happening any time soon.
Matthew couldn't particularly remember this part of the story. What he remembered is watching all of his teammates die, each and every member of the crew. He knew, after seeing their bodies liquify and become absorbed into the cave's fleshy mass, that he was the sole survivor of what should have been a simple expedition to hide some treasure. But it was nothing like that, it was nothing of the sort. Looking down at this body, Matthew saw that his own flesh was losing solid form as the pure-white of his bones became visible. Staring at the bones of his fingers in horror, Matthew was surprised at how painless it all was. He couldn't feel it, couldn't feel what should have been extraordinarily painful. It was probably something to do with the damned cave, because he knew it controlled practically everything. Maybe his nervous system had been digested first, but then again he was capable of seeing, feeling, and thinking, so it was unlikely that was the case. Reaching up to scratch at his head, he found himself having no scalp. Cold hard bone scrapped against the bones of his fingers. He should have cared, but the cave took that away from him too. A cluster of red eyes appeared in the fleshy wall in front of him. Blood dripped from their blood-shot whites as they all focused in on him.
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