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(Oc)Cult Friends

Part 2

for AkimitsuSeveCan

by Draconicon

The Caves of Isilmin were well off the beaten track, and for good reason. The cult that used to use them as their headquarters hadn't been that great to the general populace, and even with the aid of the dragons that they had under their control, the cult would have been wiped out by the rest of the surrounding kingdoms if their location had ever been found out. As far as Gauthier knew, the cult had eventually been wiped clean by the very dragons that they'd attempted to control, but other than that, there was very little known about them, other than the fact that there was still deep magic that ran through the caves, affecting anyone that came near.

He shook his head as he adjusted his leather armor for the umpteenth time since setting out, staring at the mouth of the cave. His greatsword rested in its usual place over his shoulder, though his instincts had needed some training since setting out on the road. He had managed to bonk himself in the back of the head many times before he remembered how to walk without slapping himself around. The year of no combat, and the four years of light duty before that, had not done him any favors.

But he remembered things, even if he was a bit out of practice. Like the fact that this particular set of caves didn't have a barrier on the door the way that the last dungeon that he and Lykus had done did. That meant that the monsters inside could leave if they were so inclined, which meant that if he was pursued, there was little point in running out of the dungeon to the surface world. He would be better off fighting them as best he could inside.

He took a deep breath and let it out, feeling the leather constricting around his gut and reminding him just how much his body had changed since the last time that he had put it on. Five years did a lot to someone's body, particularly when they went from fighting all the time to doing almost nothing. Gauthier wasn't quite fat, not to the point where he would be completely useless, but he was...

Well, there was no getting around it. He had gained weight, and he wasn't as hardened as he had once been. No adventuring party in the world would have looked at him and thought he'd be a good fit.

But for this, for the chance to get Lykus back? And maybe smack him around a bit for leaving him this depressed for so many years? It was worth a shot.

"Alright, Lykus. Here's hoping that you didn't bitch out and get taken by the magic..."

For all that he didn't like the idea of his friend being out here in the middle of fuck-all nowhere, he liked the idea of Lykus being affected by the mysterious magics of the cave even less. The wolf was a powerful warlock, which meant that he might be able to deal with the bullshit that Isilmin produced better than some, but that didn't mean that he'd be immune to everything out here. If it did get to him...

Well, he didn't put long odds on him getting out of the Caves either. But hey, he didn't have much of a life to go back to, and if it meant getting to smack his friend around one more time, he'd take it.

Drawing his blade - mostly because he didn't trust his quick-draw skills anymore - he walked through the entrance of the caverns and looked inside.

At first, it was almost total darkness, almost as if there were warding spells against light rather than against monsters leaving the place. However, as he stepped inside, runes that were too faint to read started to take shape along the wall. They glowed with some kind of internal light, forming sigils that chained together and led further into the cave. He stared at them for a moment, then shoved himself forward, an old instinct telling him to move. Now.

He was almost too late. Gauthier had barely left the doorway before a sweeping scythe sliced down right where he'd been standing. If he'd been a single moment slower, he would have lost his legs. Any slower than that, and he would have been cut in two. He stared back at the cutting spot, shaking his head slowly.

Well, they obviously don't want uninvited visitors...

Shaking his head, he used the greatsword to lever himself back to his feet, grunting as he got his balance back. It was going to be one of those dungeons, then, something that forced him to stay on his feet all the time. If he didn't focus, if he didn't listen to his instincts, if he didn't remember what all the tricks were for dealing with all these traps, he was going to die long before finding Lykus.

And he wasn't going to give that wolf that satisfaction. Sure, the warlock had been the brains of the group, but that didn't mean that he didn't have a few clever thoughts himself.

Alright, Lykus...let's see what's between me and you...

The human gritted his teeth and delved deeper into the darkness. The sigils had changed, shifting from leading him down one direction to leading him down another. They might have been leading him into a trap, but on the off-chance that they were the sort that responded to thought, he decided to follow them. He just hoped that he didn't end up regretting it.

#

The traps were...extensive, but none of them were as deadly as the trap at the entrance, which surprised him. Gauthier had expected the caves to be filled with all kinds of deadly traps after seeing that, expecting that to have been the lightest trap, the one that you got off easiest with.

He was wrong.

Not only were none of the other traps the sort that were meant to kill you, but they seemed more designed to incapacitate someone. The first one had been a net trap, one that he'd tripped by mistake and ended up slashing apart before it could hit him. The fact that his blade could cut through the net at all was testament to the enchanted nature of the blade, and he was glad that it had maintained that through the years. The net could have completely incapacitated him, and with the feeling of being watched growing with each step deeper into the dungeon, he wasn't sure that he trusted his ability to get free if there were that many monsters around.

The next trap was a pit, one that had been filled with an eerie pink slime. He didn't know if that was acid that had simply gone by its expiry date, or if there was some other effect from it, but the smell had put him off. The human walked around it, taking care not to fall into the pit and ruin his chances of moving forward.

And so the traps continued. A dart trap that was dosed with something other than poison. A leg noose that was meant to whip someone off the ground and leave them suspended. A room filled with fake stalactites that turned out to be monsters meant to wrap around the head and control someone. None of them were meant to kill him like the scythe had been, and that meant that there was something in this cave that wanted to take control of someone, capture them, not kill them.

They want people that can handle themselves, obviously, he thought as he delved deeper into the caves. Which, in turn, means that they don't want everyone to die. Just the ones that aren't invited and aren't good enough to get deeper. But why would they want people that could handle themselves?

That was the question that still lingered, and despite how hard he thought on it, he couldn't get an answer. There was something wrong about this place. The Caves of Isilmin felt like they were teasing him, holding the answer just out of reach, and that bothered him. It also made him wish that Lykus was around more than ever.

For a place filled with magic, though...

That was the other thing that was bothering him. He was supposed to be deep in a cave system that was ostensibly flooded with magic to the point that it fucked with those that practiced it. He was supposed to be in a horribly dangerous place for those that didn't have magic. There was no way that he could be strong-willed enough to avoid getting spellbound if that was the case, so...why wasn't he?

That made him stop in his tracks, looking back the way he'd come. The sigils had gone dark behind him, but he thought at it for a moment.

Escape.

Not only did the ones going back not light up, the ones going forward went dark. Well, they definitely responded to thoughts, then. That meant that they were also probably reading things that he hadn't realized that he'd been thinking of. He cocked his head to the side, trying to puzzle it out.

Hmmm...Treasure.

The sigils lit up again, going a different direction to the route that he'd been taking. He knew that he'd been at a crossroads, so that made sense that they'd suddenly change direction here, but he hadn't thought that it would be so different to before.

Lykus.

The sigils went out, then lit up once more, going back the way that he had been trekking. Straight ahead, further down and further in. That meant that there was, at least, someone called Lykus in the dungeon, though that might not mean that it was his Lykus. It might be another one, he tried to tell himself, trying to keep his hopes from rising too high.

That meant that there was one other thing to try. Gauthier pulled his hands tighter around the hilt of his sword, half-dreading what was going to happen with his next thought.

Enemy.

As soon as the thought popped into his head, all the sigils burned as bright as they could, throwing the room into brilliant illumination. He looked up as one chain of sigils went upwards rather than following the paths, and surprise, surprise, he found himself staring at a dozen or more kobolds that were clinging to the ceiling. They had been watching him, two of them holding a net, and they were only holding off on using it because they couldn't see with all the light blinding them.

Gauthier leaped into action, literally. He ran forward and jumped off a stalagmite, throwing himself into the air and swinging his blade. Three kobolds lost their heads at the same time, and they fell from whatever they were using to grip the ceiling. The other kobolds hissed and shrieked, shocked at the sudden attack, and their nets fell harmlessly to the floor.

That was good for him, but not for them. He hit the ground, his hand in his pocket already. A great deal of money from selling his gear had meant that he could load up on all kinds of things to help himself out with this fight, and he had come prepared, getting each vial, each item engraved so he could tell what it was by feel rather than by sight. He touched one vial, felt the engraving of a fire against his thumb, and whipped his arm back. He threw it at the ceiling, and the whole upper part of the room burst into flame.

Alchemist Fire was a deadly, dangerous thing, and this was no exception. It burned through the rock, searing through whatever handholds the kobolds were using. Those that were unlucky were hit with the fire as well, burning on contact. Their screams of shock and pain were quickly dulled by the fire leaping down their throats, while the others were merely forced to fall to the ground.

Of the original dozen-plus, there were only four left. They hit the ground dazed, confused, but they were already getting back to their feet, trying to get themselves ready for the fight.

Gauthier didn't let them. He ran forward, and with two quick swipes, his greatsword beheaded three of them. The long, broad blade tasted blood again, and it was just as good as he remembered it being.

The last of the kobolds had only just gotten its eyes clear, stopped being blinded by the time that he had his blade at its throat. It gasped, staring down at the long length of steel.

"N-no hurt, no hurt!" the kobold begged.

"That depends on one thing, beast," the human said. "Have you seen a wolf in these caves?"

"W-wolf? Mean striped thing?"

"He's not mean, but that is what I meant."

"Seen him, seen him!"

"Where?"

"In cave, down middle tunnel."

In other words, down the same tunnel that the sigils had been leading him down. The kobold was good for confirmation, at least. The little scaly beast was hardly the sort of thing that he could keep alive, though, particularly as stealthy as they had been. He hadn't even noticed the creatures on the ceiling, hadn't heard them or realized that they were so close to catching him.

Damn fool, he thought at himself. Thinking that you were ready for something like this after five years out of the field...

Regardless of having escaped the trap, he knew for a fact that it was at least half down to luck. There was no way that he could have gotten out of that if the kobolds hadn't been blinded, if he hadn't had the advantage of being able to see while they did not. He couldn't credit himself with the win, no matter how much he wanted to.

"You...you no hurt, right?" the kobold asked.

"..."

"Please, no want die!"

"Why weren't you using the nets earlier?"

"W-what?"

"Why weren't you using the nets?" he asked. "I didn't even know you were there. Why didn't you catch me?"

"..."

"Tell me, and you live. Stay quiet..."

He let the sword do the talking for him, gently pricking the side of the little beast's neck. Blood flowed, not enough to kill, but enough to scare, for certain. The kobold whimpered, obviously trying not to reach up and grab the side of its throat after being scared like that, but it was a close thing.

"Nnnngh...o-orders."

"From who?"

"F-from Blessed!"

"And who's Blessed?"

"Nnnngh...o-orders..."

"Can you tell me?"

The kobold slowly shook its head. Well, that was damn useless, wasn't it? No real answers, save for the fact that someone higher up in whatever kobold society was had decided that he wasn't to be killed. Or captured. Not yet, at least. He cocked his head to the side, considering making the final sweep that would put this kobold out of his misery.

Yet, there was something about the kobold's patheticness that made him hold back. Instead, he flicked the blade sideways, using the flat of the sword to bludgeon the beast to unconsciousness rather than kill him.

"Just stay down, and you won't get hurt later..."

Whether the beast heard him or not, he didn't know. What he did know was that he needed to keep moving before more of them found him.

Lykus.

The sigils burned brightly again, and he turned down the central tunnel of the crossroads. He had no idea how much time he had to find the wolf, but he wasn't going to waste any more of it with questions.

#

He found himself facing more and more traps the further he went. Acid rain, spell-storms, and more, each of them short of deadly, but all of them just that little bit more dangerous than the last, and his luck was rapidly running out. Those that he could dodge before were catching him now, not quite hurting him, but stripping him of gear left and right. Some of the spell storms blew up the alchemical vials that he had brought along, leaving him with less tools. The acid rain burned through his armor bit by bit, until he was left with nothing but a loincloth.

Soon, he was left near-naked, with nothing but his blade and the loincloth that had somehow survived the last acid shower. How, he had no idea, but it made him feel more like a barbarian than an actual fighter.

Worse, it left him particularly vulnerable as he reached the bottom of the tunnel. He felt naked, and as he stepped from a rocky stone corridor to a ruined city, he felt worse.

A city...a fucking city...

He couldn't help but stare as the sigils glowed up from the stone floor ahead of him, lighting the way towards the half-destroyed buildings in the distance. They were crumblin at the edge, but the further in he looked, the more that he saw buildings that were supported by strings of magical lights, by other runes and sigils that had been carved anciently and recently. Further, further, further, and he saw a temple that loomed over the rest of the broken, stone city, one that glowed brightly enough at the rooftops that it cast a red-green glow on the rocky ceiling of the great cavern.

It was that glow that shocked him most. That was the same color as the idol that they had stolen all those years ago. Coincidence? Perhaps, but he didn't believe it in the slightest.

That has to be where he is. Somewhere in the temple, studying this thing...

That meant crossing the stone bridge between the tunnel's exit and the city, and then making his way through it. The tired human shouldered his blade, took a step forward -

The sound of scuttling steps and climbing creatures caught his attention, but he was too slow. All the tiredness that he had built up over his exploration, all his desperate escapes from the traps, the inability to rest for more than eight hours of exploring had finally caught up to him. He turned just in time to see kobolds climbing down from the tunnel, climbing up from the sides of the bridge, and emerging from the city. There were dozens, hundreds, thousands of them, all rising out of the nooks and crannies that no normal person could have hidden in, but the little beasts could have.

As one, they lifted blowpipes to their lips. Gauthier gritted his teeth, knowing what was coming, and knowing further that he had no way to stop it.

PFFT!

All at once, hundreds of little needles embedded themselves in his flesh. He had blocked over a dozen of them with his sword, but he couldn't block all of them, not when they came from every angle to be seen. The fighter stumbled forward, backwards, then fell flat on his face.

He woke with his arms tied behind his back, something that he was almost used to. Every bandit group in the entire world seemed to use the same sort of knot back there, and cults barely seemed to have any real innovation of their own on the original design. He flexed his wrists, seeing if there was any looseness for him to play with, but there wasn't. Pity; would have made his escape happen much -

"Hmmm, I would have thought he would stay asleep for longer. But no matter."

He blinked at the voice. It was something higher than the kobold, but not quite hissing. It was more...sonorous, something that sounded like a singer, almost. Or a spell-slinger.

The fighter lifted his head from his chest. The motion was a little slow, a little wobbly. The drugs must have been running through his system still, messing with him. That was something that he could live with, though, something that he could work around. As long as everything still worked, that was something that he could make do with. He was propped against a wall, his legs extended forward - likewise tied at the ankles - and his arms were behind his back. He looked up -

And found himself staring at something scaly, something...something impossible.

There were dragonborn in the world, men and women that were descended from dragons, but this was not that. This didn't have the human features under the scales. This didn't have the human eyes, or the lack of full horns. No, this was a dragon that had found a way to walk on two legs, something that was scaled from head to toe, that had the wings, that had the eyes of power and prestige, that had the magic that was so powerful that it pulsed out from the body and left him aching just to feel it that close.

"Nnngh...What..."

"Quiet, quiet!"

Those, on the other hand, were kobolds. He turned his head from side to side, seeing dozens of them clinging to the broken stone walls around them like bugs, barely moving. They kept hissing.

"Don't interrupt."

"Dragon speaks."

"Speak not."

"Listen. Listen!"

"Dumb human."

"Stupid human."

"Listen when dragon talks!"

Then the green-scaled, two-legged dragon held up its hands, and the kobolds subsided. He didn't know what to say as the dragon leaned down, getting on one knee before him.

"I apologize for the Initiated. They care greatly for my dignity and prestige, as they do for all of my kind. There is much that you will have to learn here."

"What...the fuck...is going on?"

"Ah, you have no idea what this is, do you? I suppose that we overestimated what would happen when someone found this place and came searching..."

"I don't care. I just...I want my friend back. Lykus. Is he here?"

"Lykus?"

"Black and white wolf, striped colors. I have information saying that he came here a year ago."

"Hmmm. Perhaps he did, at that."

"Where is he?"

"Safe, safe." The dragon smiled. "But you will not meet him without becoming one of us."

"...Fuck. That."

"I am afraid you don't have any -"

THUNK!

The dragon stumbled backwards, clutching a bleeding nose as Gauthier instantly regretted pulling off that headbutt. His shoulders screamed at him for pulling off that move without stretching, and his forehead felt like he had just slammed his face into a stone wall. Not the smartest thing that he had ever done, admittedly, and the kobolds were quite obviously pissed at him. The number of daggers that framed his face afterward, thrown and pointed directly, was evidence enough of that.

But at the same time, he wasn't going to just do what he was told. That wasn't what he was, and that wasn't why he was here.

"I'm not here to be part of some cult. I'm here for Lykus. End of story."

"Mmmph...definitely a more stubborn human than most," the dragon said, rubbing the end of its snout. Shaking its head, it nodded to the other kobolds. "Get him to the Echo Chamber. We'll begin his conditioning."

Conditioning. Fucking cults, always with the brainwashing. Yet, at the same time, he felt a tremor of fear down in his middle. He knew for a fact that he had never had great luck with resisting spells. Without someone else around to dispel them...

Shit.

Gauthier ended up getting tied with his arms over his head and his legs firmly pressed against the wall. His loincloth was allowed to stay, even though some of the kobolds started fondling him under it. He glared down at them, kicked them when he could, but that was a weak bit of protest after he was tied up. Their scaly hands on his body felt wrong, and what he had tolerated from Lykus was certainly not allowed now.

The room that they referred to as the Conditioning Chamber was certainly not what he expected. He had thought that he'd be thrown into some sort of den of debauchery, or something filled with torture implements. At the very least, he had expected to see some sort of alchemist table brewing potions of forced obedience.

But there was none of that. Instead, there was a single open pipe on the far end of the room, and the only way in and out of the chamber seemed to be a Shape Stone spell that the dragon had to cast, creating a door and then sealing it when they were done tying him up and molesting him.

What the hell is this place? he wondered, looking around. There were more runes on the walls, but they didn't respond to his thoughts the way that the ones in the tunnels did. That made him think that they were more for different purposes than guiding someone around, but...

Fuck...fuck...

His failure was finally starting to come home. Seasoned as he was, he had believed that he had a decent chance of finding his friend and comrade. He'd thought that he had the chance to actually dig down into the Caves and find where the warlock had disappeared to. All those misgivings had been shelved against a blind hope that had grown increasingly strong during the journey, and it had made him stupid enough to keep pushing on rather than resting and taking his time.

Fuck.

Gauthier slammed his head against the stone wall behind him. All it accomplished was giving him a headache, but at least he was able to think a little clearer after that. He groaned under his breath, shaking his head as he pushed down those fears, that anger, and the little tears that had been starting to fill his eyes.

Whatever happens, you have to endure. If you can hold out, then eventually they have to let you out of this room. They have to come in, at least, check on you, and then...

Then he would figure out a different plan. He wasn't dumb, and he wasn't completely weak. If he was smart, he could hold out, and then snap the chains. He was strong enough for that. He just needed the door to escape from.

It wasn't much of a plan, and quite honestly, it was still a hopeless sort of one, but it was enough to give him purpose. He could figure out his failure, deal with his mistakes later. For now, he had a plan of action, and he would follow it. Better to do that than to get down on himself and keep thinking about having fucked up so much as he had.

As he settled against the wall, he realized that there was a dull thrumming sound that was starting to build up. It sounded almost like the throat-singing that he had heard during his travels when he passed by a monastery, but there was something different to it, something more bestial, more elemental. The sound was lower than a human throat could ever go, though he imagined that an orc throat could just about reach the higher tones that were coming through. The sound wasn't quite singing, either, but more reverential than that.

It was almost like a sound of worship, he realized, and the vibrations were setting the stones to trembling, and the sigils to glowing.

What the - ah!

He hissed, sucking in a breath as he felt the stone start to vibrate behind him. It almost tickled, at first, but then the vibration of the sound followed, and...and...

"Ah...mmmph..."

It hummed straight through his bones, running up his body and then back down along the other side. He could barely breathe through the odd feeling, his eyes going wider and wider as the humming, thrumming noise fueled the strange chamber.

"What the fuck...what is this? HEY! Someone, fucking tell me what's going on!"

There was no answer. None.

The thrumming got louder, deeper, almost like the mountain itself was humming and singing through the tube. The louder the sound got, the stronger the vibrations were, and he felt them sinking into his bones and into his mind. He gasped, feeling the light of the sigils glowing, burning down on him, feeling like he was getting hit with magic spell after magic spell.

And worst of all, he started...he started liking it. His cock started to push forward, rising against the front of his loincloth, pressing itself upwards and forward. He could feel the movement of it, feel the way that the leather stroked against the head of his shaft as he got stiffer.

No, I don't want this. This is torture. This is going to become torture.

Yet, as hard as he tried to convince himself that this was wrong, his body was ever more sure that it was right. His cock throbbed, twitched, and grew yet further, soon pointing straight ahead. The loincloth had lifted to the point that, if a kobold had been in the room, it would have had a perfect view of his balls.

The humming tone rose to a crescendo, and his cock rose with it, no longer just pointing forward but rising up and pointing to the ceiling of the small chamber. The leather flap slid to the side, showing off his cock to an unseen audience, and he gritted his toes, curling his toes against the dusty floor.

"Let me out! STOP THIS!"

Something was going wrong, something was going very, very wrong, and he didn't know how to stop it. He had been ready for torture, for mind-afflicting illusions, but this was something entirely different. The worshipful tone continued, and the longer it did, the harder his cock became, throbbing up, then sliding down a bit, then throbbing up again, this time with pre-cum flowing too. He gritted his teeth, trying not to focus on the pleasure, just on the fact that he was bound and -

Obey...

There was a word in those rumbling tones. Just one word, just one thing that he had to strain himself to hear again, since it was buried so deep in those musical, rumbling sounds. It was a simple word, too, but one that rattled around in his skull more than it should.

Obey...

The sound of the word was long and sustained, at once something that sounded good in that voice, and something that terrified him. It sounded like the singer was calling out about the glory of submission, of giving oneself obediently to the will of another, but Gauthier could only grit his teeth against it.

"No...No...I'm not..."

Obey...

The word felt like a hand clenching around his cock. Not the light touch of a whore, but the tight grip of some ass that was trying to get something from him. Yet, at the same time, the vibrations running through his body made it feel better than it had any right to feel. He shook his head, trying to pull a hand down to cover his ears, but there was nothing that he could do. The word was coming through the vibrations now as much as the tone, and it was echoing through him, buzzing up through his feet and then through his legs, going up his spine and then back down again, ending in his cock.

Obey...

It forced a twitch through his shaft, making him spit pre-cum across the floor. The pleasure, the tingle, the vibrations, and that word was making it harder and harder to focus on the truth of the situation. He had been captured, he had been thrown in a conditioning cell to be brainwashed. This was meant to break his will, and it was fucking working.

_Nnnngh...no...no...

Obey...

No!_

He shook his head, even as his body tingled from head to toe. His skin felt tight, his mouth dry. He felt stretched for all the wrong reasons, almost like that music was doing more than just delivering some sense of pleasure to him. It felt...it felt like it was doing something to him, like it was doing something to his body.

If it was, he had no idea how he could fight back. All he knew was that his struggle was reserved against that word. That was the important part. If he could hold out against obedience, then whatever else this magic wanted to do, it could do. He would figure a way out, and then? Then he would find Lykus.

That was his priority, and that was what he was sticking to.

The End

Summary: Gauthier gets to the dungeon, and he finds himself faced with something more complicated than he ever took on alone and in his prime. Here's hoping that he's ready for this.

Tags: M/solo, groping, bondage, music, corruption, hypnosis, dragon, kobolds, dungeon, fantasy, series, magic, D&D, erection, vibrations, naked, loincloth, threat, fight, fighting, blood, death,