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The Temple of Azukir. Dedicated to a long forgotten god of the eponymous river, the temple was recently re-discovered and ripe for the plundering by adventurers. At least, if not for all the defensive traps and guardians within: torrents of water to bowl people over, denizens of water that swam and splashed through the pools, streams of water to carry people away, drops of water to ping against the floor incessantly—

Ralneth grumbled, gritting her teeth as she paced behind her adventuring companions. Of course everything had to be water based and filled with streams, the ratfolk mage thought. It was if the entire damp and dimly lit temple had been designed to mock her and the pressure in her waist. The burbling of the small streams that ran throughout pounded at her ears, but Ralneth seemed the only one to notice, her fellow adventurers leading the way with lanterns and weapons in tow and reckless abandon.

They were always like this, Ralneth knew; fierce and reliable in a fight or when facing the innumerable perils of treasure-filled dungeons, but with no sense of patience or abating for personal needs. Of course, the ratfolk had planned to relieve herself before venturing out, as always, but Darius was overzealous as always. The human knight had burst into their inn room, rough map in hand, and practically dragged the rest of them out of the inn with excited promises of loot. That was enough to get the lizardfolk thief Tazill bounding after him, but Ralneth hoped that Velk at least would object. But of course not; the elf cleric had the resilience of a piece of parchment left in the rain, and was whisked along objecting with nothing more than stammering whispers.

Ralneth gripped her staff tighter as she stepped through a puddle that dampened the hem of her robes. She loved these guys, but none of them appreciated that ratfolk bladders weren't as big or sturdy as other species. She grimaced a bit, stopping on the descending stairs to press her thighs together and curl her tail about her waist. This was getting too much, but the ratfolk couldn't very well ask the crew to stop—she'd never hear the end of it. The thought of trailing behind and sneaking away for a private corner, where she could hitch her robes up and panties down and just let loose played in her mind over and over, but she knew better; those that split up from the group in dungeons often wound up dead, and blood is harder to clean out of robes of the wizard order than urine. She figured, at least. Reaching a paw down to ensure that she was still dry, the ratfolk paced down the stairs, trying her best to ignore the sloshing, aching feeling from her waist.

With much effort, Ralneth got to the base of the stairs to find a pair of ornate double doors, and perhaps some other time she might have been willing to admire the craftsmanship that went into the meticulous carvings of the Azukir river god upon it. But time was not something she had much of. Bouncing her weight back and forth between her heels, she glared at Tazill as the lizardfolk searched over the door with a slow, methodical manner.

“What's the hold up?" The words, themselves not the kindest, came out even more curt that Ralneth intended, but she could hardly care, as she felt she'd need a new set of robes very soon if they dawdled. The lizardfolk didn't turn to answer, concerning herself with tapping on this and looking at that as she checked over the door.

“Hold your horses, just gotta make sure this is clean," Tazill said with a smirk. “Don't wanna spring somethin' that floods the whole room or anything…"

_I'll show you a damn flood if you don't hurry up… _Ralneth thought. Her tail twitched, her bladder groaning in protest...it felt like it was bulging out at this point. “Well? Is it?"

“Why are you so impatient? This takes time, y'know!" the lizardfolk called back, and if just to drive the point home she started going even slower. Ralneth's eyes twitched, her legs pressed firmly together. Oh, if only she had a spell to make her felt what she felt! She was about to say something else before her companion had finally decided she'd checked enough. “Ok, it's clear. I'm opening it!"

“About damn time…" Ralneth muttered, and with a swift push the way was open. The doors swung back to reveal a large, opulent hall with a walkway that wound like the river itself flanked by frescoes of long forgotten tales and pillars of marble that stood with a majesty that spited how long and forgotten the temple was. It was ancient, it was intricate, it was breathtaking.

But most importantly, it was full of loot; opulent armors holding finely carved weapons flanked the room, and at the end were tons of golden fixtures and piles of gems and trinkets, prior offerings to the river god. Darius's eyes lit up. Tazill rubbed her claws together. Even Velk, as timid as he was, couldn't help but pause and gasp. Ralneth, herself, forgot her plight, mind overtaken by questions of whether or not they'd even be able to carry all this stuff out. Hell, perhaps it was for the best that they dragged her so quickly; another adventuring group could have picked this place clean already!

“Well whaddya know!" Darius said, putting his armored hands on his armored hips. “Looks like the info was good. Good thing we didn't wait up for you, huh, Ralneth?"

“Ah, stuff it," she replied, poking at him with her tail; he was right, but she wasn't about to admit it. They stepped in, grins upon their faces. Ralneth shuffled a bit; each step was a struggle, sending pangs through her from her aching bladder. But it was too late to worry about that; besides, if they grabbed the stuff quickly, there'd be plenty of time. “Now, I know a spell to lighten weights, so we should be—"

“Look out!"

“Huh, wha—" Before Ralneth could respond, Tazill tackled her roughly out of the way. She landed with a squeak, whole body rocked, and it took all of her strength to not wet herself right then and there. And it took only a bit less for her to stand up without becoming a sopping mess. Ralneth's mind stormed with creative and scathing reprimands for the lizardfolk, but they all vanished when saw the reason: where the ratfolk had stood just moments before, a large golem, composed of smooth and wavy turquoise stone, had dropped from the ceiling. And from the glint in its sapphire gem eyes, it was far from done with these intruders.

“A guardian!" Ralneth stammered, bringing her staff up. Great, just great. They should have expected this with any sort of dungeon dive, but the timing, could it have been any worse? The party launched into attack, with Tazill driving her knives into its weak joints, Darius blocking blows aimed at teammates while retaliating with heavy swings of his warhammer, and Velk chanting prayers to invigorate them. It was a tough one, at least for Ralneth. The ratfolk was already at the breaking point, her legs shaking as she fought. Each spell took away from her concentration as she gritted her teeth; as she conjured her arcane might to freeze the golem's legs, she could feel a splotch of warm wetness between her legs.

No no no! It couldn't end like this! Ralneth pushed her thighs together, stemming the tide for now. She panted. She shook. This was too much. It was like a dam, filled with cracks, trying to hold against a relentless river. Ralneth's mind cried for safety, to fell this foe, but her body cried for release, just a simple release long denied. She gripped her staff tighter. She had to endure. Just a little longer. She knew she could…

The battle was going their way. Darius had reduced one of its arms to rubble, Tazill was dodging blows and punishing the clumsy swings at every circumstance. But Velk...the elf was skilled and determined, but not agile. In the midst of one of his spells, the golem swung swiftly at him with its remaining arm, picking him up like he was nothing more than a twig. Velk's screams echoed through the room as the golem tightened its grip.

“No!" Ralneth cried. Dammit! This was the worst. The ratfolk had a spell, a way to lock down the golem completely, but she knew it took a lot of concentration… Even now, her bladder groaned, and she felt like she would lose it with the slightest jolt, the most miniscule of moment. She'd never live that down, but then the cleric's screams cut the air again. Ralneth furrowed her brow. To hell with it! If that's how it has to be!

Ralneth breathed, the air around her filling with an uneasy aura. She held up her staff, a yellow light surrounding its tip as she chanted in a long-dead language. It was a paralysis spell, a big one, one that required all of her power. The ratfolk drew upon all of her power, straining her body for every ounce of magical energy as the yellow light arced towards the golem.

But it was a battle on two fronts, against the enemy and against herself. And the ratfolk knew she didn't have the power to win both. Everything about her cried out as she twitched and shivered, her tail flailing and beating against the ground. But seeing her friend held so… Ralneth gave out one groan, her eyes glowing as she wrung out all of her magical power. It was working; the golem was seizing, its stony arms halting before releasing its grip. Yes, just a little more.

It was hard. It took everything she had. And it was at that moment Ralneth felt it. First, just a twitch, causing her to push her legs together. But it was hopeless; it was like trying to stop a tidal wave with a shoddy fence. She gave a squeak that was somewhere between distressed and relieved as she felt herself go. As she focused the spell, the warmth spread rapidly, first at her crotch then down to her legs. Ralneth's breath caught as she felt the musky pool form about her feet, accompanied by a low hiss that dribbled out her damp robes.

Darius struck; seizing the moment, he smashed his hammer against the golem's core, shattering it and causing it to crumple into a pile of stones. And so did Ralneth, collapsing to her knees. She panted, placing a paw upon her crotch in the utmost impotence as the yellow pool around her grew. Yet even then the ratfolk couldn't help but feel a small shudder of pleasure as she finally found release. She didn't even notice all the others staring at her until the last drops ran out, leaving her soaking and hot.

There was silence. Ralneth looked up, staring at them. Velk met her gaze, a look of surprise and a blush upon his face. Guh. She hated that. The ratfolk brought herself to shaky feet, feeling the weight of her now damp robes. Without missing a beat, she threw them off, and her soaked panties as well, letting her lower body stand free and relatively dryer.

The elf gulped and spoke up. “U-uh, Ralneth…" but she only held up a paw.

“Can it," she said. “Just get the damn treasure and let's get out of here. Velk, you owe me new robes."

The others exchanged glances, before nodding. “R-right!" Velk said, before they all turned their sights to the treasure. Ralneth sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She looked down at her discarded vestments, laying in a puddle of her own piss. Her face was hot, but she could only shrug and shake her head. They didn't die, and they got the loot. There were worse fates for adventurers.