Percellus tread carefully across the stone floor of the dungeon. The cavern above was obviously natural, with stalactites jutting down from the ceiling and a network of bioluminescent plants filling the space with a warm, yellow light that more or less illuminated the space, albeit at a dimmer level than ideal.
The environment on the ground was another story. For one, the floor was smooth, as if someone either meticulously grinded down the rocky cave's interior, or tiled over it in an impressive feat of masonry. It was a little too dark to tell without a closer look, and Percellus had neither the interest nor the time anyway.
This dungeon was different from the others. For one, it had an unusual name, in the local dwarven dialect, which translated to something like "The Dungeon of Bad Endings." Tall tales were abundant of adventurers who braved the network of caves and hallways under the Mist Fortune Mountain Pass, never to return. Most died, some were allegedly lured to stay under some kind of enchantment. Precise details varied from one source to the next, but in general, the stories agreed that the place was cursed, and best avoided.
But they also tended to agree that the dungeon contained unfathomable treasures, tucked into random rooms, where they were ripe for the taking. That represented a sizable score for Percellus, a decently experienced ranger with a reputation for stealth and sensibility. He had no need to get greedy: just one trip in, a bag full of whatever loot he could carry, and a quick exit would line his pockets for a comfortable winter before the sea unfroze and he could book passage home and finally retire from this dangerous life of adventure and excitement. He tentatively hoped to open a bakery.
This chamber, however, revealed another unusual - and hardly natural - aspect of the dungeon. The floor was covered in statues, each immaculately carved with incredible attention to detail. The sculptures featured lifelike clothing which still conveyed impossible details like translucent garments, and wrinkles across the body. Their maker was obviously skilled in his or her trade.
Equally detailed were the faces of these statues. Although some stared ahead with a sort of thoughtful indifference, most lay in compromising positions with faces twisted in agony, or perhaps desperation. The majority were highly explicit works, artists depicting them in visible states of arousal, with elevated nipples, erect cocks, and some even having the painstaking detail of arousal dripping from their sex. Some were even masturbating, or desperately humping against some other stone surface.
Percellus could feel his own manhood stiffening at the lewd display. Whoever chiseled these statues had expertly captured their pornographic acts, and the adventurer had to wonder how they got this far underground without a hint of damage.
He made it a few cautious paces further before he realized the sculptures were simply too lifelike for human hands, freezing in his tracks as the alternative dawned on him.
Gorgons.
Monstrous women were said to roam the caves of this part of the world, in spaces where the underdark met the surface realm. The creatures had a visage that could turn any observer to stone on the spot, something only powerful magic - and reliable friends to supply it - could achieve. Percellus had access to neither, on this expedition.
The ranger tore a strip of spare cloth from his supply pack and wrapped it around his head, creating a makeshift blindfold. He could just barely see silhouettes of the room through the fibers, but would have to take it slow, at least as long as he spent in this obstacle-filled, pornographic statue garden.
No sooner had he equipped the blindfold than he heard footsteps coming around the corner from behind him. Turning backward, he didn't quite have the light to see anyone, meaning whoever shared this cavern with him was at least 10 feet out, give or take. He drew his short sword and donned a shield, cautiously optimistic that he could avoid a fight.
"Who goes there?" He asked into the dim middle distance. "Reveal yourself!"
The footsteps quickened, and Percellus saw a vaguely humanoid silhouette appear through his thin blindfold just in time to dodge a swing of its fist. He slashed his sword at the would-be attacker, but missed: the blinding garment may have left some limited vision directly in front of his view, but it offered zero awareness of his periphery.
The adversary picked up on the weakness immediately. A kick to the solar plexus and several jabs later, the sword was knocked from the ranger's hand as his assailant shoved a foot into the back of his knee, forcing him into a kneeling position with a knife to his throat, their other arm pinning Percellus' behind his back.
The moment his knees hit the floor, the adventurer flinched as something massive and scaly slithered under his leg, then to his arms before suddenly pulling tight around his wrists, binding them together behind his back.
The air felt still as Percellus held his breath. The blade's tip was cool against his chin, drawing the tiniest drop of blood where it grazed his flesh. The apparent massive constrictor around his wrists left few options to fight back.
He only breathed a sigh of relief as the dagger fell from his neck, as a sultry, feminine voice from behind gave a playful laugh.
"I am Medusa, gorgon of the Mist Fortune Pass," the voice said, from a mouth that was suddenly very close to Percellus' ear, where he could feel her cool breath washing over his neck.
She took a beat before continuing, letting the tension build with theatrical timing.
"Oh, you can stop shaking, dear, as long as you're a good boy for me, no harm will come to you," the woman continued. "Quite, the opposite actually. I'm going to immortalize you, the way such a strong hero deserves..."
He could practically hear the wicked, devious grin around the monster's lips as its next words they fell from her lips.
"... in stone."
The woman let out a malevolent, almost casual chuckle as a *clang* startled Percellus, his cuirass dropping to the stone floor. He must've been distracted by the gorgon's flirtatious banter as she cut the armor's straps. Even so, the gorgon's touch must have been remarkably precise to do so without slicing into his skin in the process.
The gear brought his skirt of leather strips down with it, and Percellus felt goosebumps across his flesh as the cool air of the underground dungeon met his now exposed skin, kneeling naked on the mossy floor.
Warm blood rushed to his face as his erect manhood was exposed. The gorgon gasped, though whether in genuine or feigned surprise he couldn't tell without his vision. Quickly regaining her composure, the creature's seductive voice resumed washing over him.
"My oh my, little hero, you're a ~specimen~" she cooed, hairs on Percellus' neck standing on edge as the woman caressed a gentle hand against his toned abs, reaching around his waist to do so. "The armor doesn't do you much justice at all, I'm glad I took it off before adding you to my collection."
