Chapter 115 Catalyst.

Ava had rarely gone into the catacombs of New Larrin. There was never a need for it. The dark depths tended not to be where stories happened, but rather where stories were disposed of.

Naturally, the Silver Griffons tried to keep a lid on things, but it was impossible.

New Larrin had been rebuilt so many times, every basement provided a potential route into the undercroft. And no one with a choice went down there anyway.

Only cultists, maniacs, and spelunkers delved into the deeps.

It was said colonies of rat people made their homes among the warrens of old tunnels, and was later confirmed when they elected a representative to the legislature.

Ava had actually interviewed Sir Gnawbone of Underthebutchershop. A nice fellow, in her opinion.

But this time was different.

Ever since Rorg had brought her to the hidden tunnel, she had felt something.

Even as she walked down the dripping, ruined passages that had once been city streets, the shops on either side still standing, albeit crushed like accordions, their doors empty and buckled, she had felt it.

A calling. A sense that seemed to make her float, pulling her down the tunnels, a feeling like she’d walked the path a thousand times, and now merely let her feet carry her on.

Rorg had noticed, though. The orc followed closely, a team of his handpicked thugs close at hand, nervous, but ready to obey their leader.

The orc had gradually pulled back from the front, letting Ava take the lead as she moved unerringly into the darkness beneath the earth.

Though Ava’s keen elf vision could scarcely penetrate the absolute darkness, her hearing was more than up to the task. She held her lantern out and followed the echoes of distant chanting.

"Not much farther," she said. "Do you hear it now?"

Rorg cocked his head to the side, straining to hear what Ava’s long elf ears could pick out. He shrugged.

"Maybe," he said.

"I think... oh! Oh my!" Ava heard something else. The chanting had stopped. There was a crash. Screaming. Then footsteps and screaming together. Light appeared in the distance.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHH!" The cultist ran right at them, his eyes wide and wild, his hooded robe covered in slime.

Rorg grabbed the man by his throat and slammed him against the tunnel wall. He slapped the man hard across his face.

"What’re you screaming about?" the massive orc growled.

"The Catalyst! The Catalyst is here! It’s going to kill us all! It’s... it’s pissed off!"

"What is he talking about?" Rorg glanced over at Ava expecting an answer.

The busty elf was already halfway down the passage. Running through the darkness towards the distant flashes of light and echoing screams. Rorg snarled and tossed the cultist aside as he rallied his men to follow the incautious elf.

The chanting had completely stopped and it was all screams and strange, hissing sounds up ahead.

Another cultist stumbled into the hall, this one missing an arm and white as a sheet, his eyes wide with fear.

Ava thumped into him as he mumbled something about noodles. Ava didn’t have time to question him further. Whatever was happening in that chamber down the passage, Ireen was in the middle of it, and it was all Ava’s fault.

"Sorry, can’t help now," she shouted to the cultist as she pushed past him.

"Bring a big fork," the man said before returning to the business of bleeding out.

Long shadows lit by the strobing flare of spellfire appeared on the tunnel wall. Ancient, defunct floodgates of rusted iron stood open at the entrance to the room.

It must have once been part of New Larrin’s storm sewers, but now the sight of an unholy massacre. Ava stood at the gate for a moment, transfixed by the chaos unfolding in the half-flooded chamber.

"Noodles," she said, watching as thick tentacles lifted screaming cultists through the air, flinging them, stripping them naked, breaking them, or fucking them.

At the center of this tempest of tentacle terror was Ireen, nude and lashed to a thick wooden X-shaped stand, moaning as she started to regain consciousness. Miraculously, the tentacles seemed to be least interested in the witch.

"Ireen!" Ava cried taking a few steps into the room. "Ireen, I’m coming for..."

Her words trailed off as the hissing quieted and the tentacles calmed. A central mass, like the great head of a mop, rose from the water.

The tentacles parted on one side, revealing a beaked mouth and a glowing red eye that stared right at Ava. She felt a tug at her core.

A sudden rush of nightmare memories. This creature - this representative of her darkest dream desires – she remembered the pleasure of its tentacles. Its caress. The flood of its cum.

Ava’s ovaries throbbed. Her face grew hot. She staggered forward another step and then swooned, a hand pressed to her forehead.

The Catalyst was there to catch her. Two thick tentacles sweeping in, gently bracing her body and lifting her off her feet.

It bore her loveliness closer and blinked its glowing red eye, taking in the sight of the Marked One.

Delicate tendrils began to undress her. Gently. Adoringly. Peeling back the layers of her clothing until she was naked in the cradle of powerful tentacles.

Some cultists slipped free in the moment of distraction and began to crawl and stagger towards the door.

Rorg and his men were waiting for them, bellowing and charging into the room.

The sound stirred the Catalyst anew, and battle was joined by the tentacles, awakened to new danger. With a screech of anger, the Catalyst carried Ava towards itself.

Ava’s eyes fluttered open and she heard the distant sounds of battle. Swords slicing through rubbery tentacles.

Bodies flung against unforgiving stone. But when her vision came into focus, she was looking down at the creature of her nightmares. Its cool, slimy tentacles caressing her body like the hands of a lover.

"Oohhhhhh," she moaned, looking down to see the blue-gray tendrils squeezing and encircling her breasts. Blushing tips tickling straining nipples. Thicker tentacles parting her thighs. "You... you’re real..."

She gasped, arched her body unconsciously, her desire causing her to present herself to its caresses. Its tentacles teased over her bare cunt. Stroking it. Opening it.

She bit her lip and whined with pleasure as a thick, slime-sheathed tentacle burrowed into her cove.

Another, positively dripping with goo, slithered between her squeezed breasts and straight into her gasping mouth.

She cried out, the tip tickling her throat. Violated, but craving it, she began to suck, to writhe, to buck her hips as the tentacle plundering her cunt began to thrust.

Tentacles closed around Ava like the petals of a flower as night fell upon it.

She was protected from the violence as Rorg and his gang fought their way into the room.

The big orc saw what was happening, charged towards Ava, but was floored by a swing of a particularly massive tentacle.

Ava was being drawn closer to the main bulk of the creature as it began to extrude an obscene red tentacle from its central tangle of tentacles.

Ava saw it too. Entering the slimy cave of her tentacle prison. The phallic tentacle was tipped with fleshy barbs, a blunt head, and a fat, oozing slit.

She cried out around the tentacle in her mouth. Not in fear, but in exultation. Finally! She was going to be mated! The Deep One would come!

She parted her thighs wider and offered herself to the Catalyst as it withdrew its probing tentacle from her cunt.

Ireen, finally conscious, saw what was about to happen just before Ava disappeared into the prison of tentacles. She screamed, "Help me! Cut me loose!"

Rorg shook the stars from his vision and sat up from the water. Blood was trickling from his temple, but he was alive. He drew a dagger from his jacket and hauled himself to his feet.

"Hurry, you big green idiot!" Ireen strained against the ropes, desperate to escape and hoping she would be in time.

"You’re a mouthy one, aren’t you?" Rorg grunted as he sliced through the cords that bound the witch to the wood.

With a tearing sound the ropes split, Ireen lurching up, rubbing her wrists where the rope had dug deep into her flesh.

Rorg rose, towering over her, his thick, fur coat swaying around him as he looked at the tentacled horror.

"Right. How do we kill that?"

"The relic," Ireen gasped, pointing at it. "Bring it to me! I’ve got a plan."

"Hope somebody does," the orc said. Though it annoyed him to take orders, he wasn’t an idiot.

He bulled his way to the bloody altar, shoving aside anyone who got in his way. His tusked mouth grimaced at the sight of the undulating artifact, and with reluctance he reached out and snatched it up.

"Ugh!" Rorg grunted as the slithering stone writhed in his hand. "I hate magic."

"Stop!"

Loris grabbed his arm, the warlock swaying, dazed and addled but driven. "You can’t! The ritual... it’s so close! Nearly there! The greatness of its knowledge will come to us! Spiritual understanding will be ours! Soon, we will..."

Rorg drove his fist into the warlock’s stomach. Loris doubled over, gasping.

"Don’t. Touch. The coat," Rorg growled, withdrawing his fist and the knife it held.

The artist collapsed on the floor, clutching his stomach as blood oozed into his shirt.

Dismissing the dying man, Rorg crossed the room and back to Ireen. Tossing aside his knife, he hauled the witch to her feet and shoved the writhing relic into her hands. "Now what?"

Ireen grimaced as she grabbed the thing. "Okay," she said. "I really hope it works."

"If it doesn’t?" Rorg asked.

"Then we’re all dead."

"So we got nothing to lose," the mobster said.

Ireen considered that. Shrugged. She turned towards the Catalyst, raising the relic up. Magic crackling from her fingers, she grabbed the writhing stone tentacles, and yanked.

Like a wishbone the sculpture cracked, splitting down the middle. The sound echoed through the subterranean hall like a gunshot. The Catalyst froze, its tentacle inches from Ava’s pussy.

Ireen grinned in satisfaction, and with another yank of magic infused strength, broke the relic utterly in twain.

A great, warbling cry arose from the Catalyst. It filled the chamber with the sound of its despair, shaking the very foundations of the room.

"She’s gonna blow!" a warlock screamed.

What robed figures remained turned and ran, pelting for the exits. Ava moaned with the Catalyst as it began to slide back into the dark depths of the waters.

She writhed, trying to push herself towards it and the receding breeding tentacle, even as it slipped into the waters, submerging once more.

With surprising care, the retreating tentacles placed Ava back on the floor, even as its limbs slid into the waters. With a plaintive cry, the elf fell to her knees, reaching for it.

"Noooo!" she moaned.

Ireen and Rorg grabbed the elf, hauling her back from the pool. Ava met the Catalyst’s eye as it sank back under the waters, ripples radiating outwards as it finally vanished with a final bloop.