Umbra

Umbra crept through the damp and grimy corridors of the dungeon, pausing every so often to listen for danger. Her sword was sheathed but that was no matter; such a weapon would be a hindrance to her in these narrow spaces. The dagger she held at the ready was much more suitable.

She stopped at a corner and peeked around to see what lay ahead. There was a chamber with torches burning in brackets along the walls. By this light she could see only one object furnishing the space: a chest against the far wall. Curious, she thought.

A sound behind her, low yet noticeable in the silence she had been maintaining, made her spin around. The path she had come down was clear, as it should be. She had explored every inch of this place so far, so there was no way anything could be sneaking up behind her. She attributed the sound to a rat and entered the chamber.

The chest was large and roughly crafted, though there were no gaps in the woodwork which would permit her to see what was inside. There was no lock on it, not even a latch; it was a simple matter of lifting the lid to see what was inside. She wondered who would leave it only part way through a dungeon, like some gift waiting to be found. It smelled like a trap to her.

She sheathed her dagger in her boot and took a torch from the wall brackets, careful not to make a sound. If she could push the lid open while standing off to the side then she would avoid any spring-loaded weaponry within. And if it was a poison gas trap then the flame of the torch would burn it off. Perhaps I'm being paranoid, she thought. But better safe than sorry.

Standing beside the chest, she reached down with the torch and pressed it against the front of the lid. The instant the flame came in contact with the wood, the chest let out a screech and sprang to life. The lid burst open to reveal a broad, square mouth filled with sharp teeth. The side panels split open, allowing two long arms to stretch out. They were scrawny like tree branches stripped of their leaves, and they ended in massive hands with long, clawed fingers.

A mimic!

Umbra stumbled backwards as the creature thrashed out to ward off the fire that had touched it. Its arms swung in wide arcs and one of those clawed hands found purchase in the leather of her vest close to her navel. She let out a cry as she felt skin part, and she dropped the torch.

Whether the mimic had ears somewhere with which it had heard her cry or it knew that its claws had found their prey, Umbra did not know. But it turned and scrambled rapidly towards her, its fanged maw snapping open and shut. Before she could retreat any further it was upon her, its arms encircling to push her toward its mouth. She pressed both of her hands against it, careful to avoid the teeth, desperately holding off its attempt to devour her. But its arms were stronger than hers and the tips of its claws were now digging into her back. She gritted her teeth against the pain as she dropped to one knee.

Without looking down she knew that the torch she had dropped was still nearby; she could feel its heat against her leg. Taking one hand off the mimic and using the other to push it back with all her might, she grabbed the fallen torch and thrust it into the gaping mouth.

It screeched again and instinctively shut its mouth tight. Its teeth went straight through Umbra's arm, locking her in place. The pain was white hot and she couldn't help but scream alongside the monster which had trapped the torch inside its body. It thrashed around, trying to free itself of the source of its pain, swinging Umbra around like a ragdoll in the process. Its claws continued to scratch at her back, her leather armour doing little to protect her flesh from such sharp implements. With one arm impaled on the creature's fangs she could do little but protect her head with her free arm and endure this assault.

Sure enough, the mimic's tantrum soon ended and, with one last pathetic groan, it went limp. Umbra waited a few seconds before moving, partly to be sure the creature was dead and partly because she was somewhat concussed after being bounced off the stone floor repeatedly.

She got unsteadily to her feet and gripped the lid, or rather the mimic's upper jaw, and heaved it open. The pain in her arm as the teeth came out was excruciating, but at this moment every part of her was hurting. She was getting good at ignoring the pain.

A look inside the creature's mouth revealed a jumble of burnt flesh. That was unpleasant enough but the smell was even more repulsive. The torch was embedded deep in its guts. Umbra guessed that it had burned through the tissue of the mouth and touched upon a vital organ.

She inspected her wounded arm. It was as nasty a sight as the mimic's insides. The bloody puncture wounds had been torn wide by the creature's thrashing. The bone was definitely broken, likely pulverised in some places. She couldn't move her fingers. An injury like this usually meant the limb was beyond saving. It was a career-ender for an adventurer - at least for a common adventurer.

Umbra wavered a little as her injuries and her blood loss caught up to her, but she soon found her balance again as the magic in her blood set to work. She felt a tingle as the many lacerations on her back and the one on her abdomen started to heal. The bruises across her body would be gone in no time. Her arm would take a while, but she knew from experience that by the time it was better there wouldn't be so much as a scar.

She peeked down the corridor that led deeper into the dungeon. It was long and dark and empty, like so many corridors she had crept through today. But that meant this was a good place to take a rest.

Stepping back into the mimic's chamber, she unfastened her leather vest and pulled it over her head along with her undershirt. The motion stretched her still-healing wounds, causing her a little discomfort. But worse than that was the state of her clothing: the back of the vest and the shirt were blood-soaked and slashed into ribbons. She let out an exasperated sigh. Not only would these not protect her from danger, they wouldn't even protect her from the elements. She wondered if her healing enchantment could prevent her from catching a cold.

She knew this was her fault for wearing such light armour: a simple leather vest, leggings and boots, without even bracers for her arms. But she did it because of her enchantment, which could heal her from any injury or malady. Why pay for expensive armour when I can survive anything the world throws at me, she thought.

Light armour was also quite handy for making people underestimate her. Sure, she was built tougher than the average woman, but she was still a woman. A pretty woman, at that, with blonde hair, smooth skin and confident yet soft features. People would look past the muscle and see a little girl in cheap gear playing at being an adventurer. That made it easy for her to surprise them.

There were downsides to her appearance too. This was a dangerous line of work filled with dangerous people. Dangerous people would look at a woman like her and get all kinds of thoughts about what they wanted to do to her. Umbra knew this quite well. She liked how she looked, but it had attracted some bad attention over the years.

That's not to suggest she couldn't handle such attention. Anytime a man tried to force himself on her she would show him that she was dangerous too. And if he struck her down, well, she could get back up as if nothing had happened to her and strike him back.

Umbra sat down in the mimic's chamber to catch her breath. Though the fight had been brief it was intense enough for her to break a sweat. She leaned back and enjoyed the sensation of cold stone against her bare skin. It helped to soothe the cuts, which could become fiercely itchy as they healed.

She examined the cut on her abdomen, already closed into a raw pink line. It was surrounded by blood which had trickled down to the waistline of her leggings before drying. The dark red stains stood out against her pale skin. It was hard to tan when you spent most of your time exploring dungeons and tombs.

She looked down at her bare chest. Her perky breasts raised and fell with her breath. Her nipples stood out in the cold, damp air of the dungeon. At least she told herself the cold was responsible. The well-toned muscles of her abdomen rippled as she shifted to a more comfortable sitting position.

Shit, she mumbled, as her good hand snaked up to her breast. They weren't particularly large, but big enough to fill her hands when she cupped them. She moved slowly, caressing her skin, feeling the softness of her flesh. She circled one of her nipples with a fingertip before pinching it. Hard. The rest of her breath escaped her as a sigh.

This was a vice Umbra had long struggled with. There was something about dangerous places like this that ignited her passion. It was the thought of making herself vulnerable in a monster-infested dungeon or deep in bandit territory. It was the fear of being discovered by those who wished her harm and being completely at their whim. It gave her a thrill unlike anything else she had experienced.

She fumbled to undo her belt and loosen her leggings, desperate to take this thrill further. Her hand went under the clothing, between her legs. Her breath raced. Her back arched, leaving only her shoulder blades pressed against the cold stone behind her. She rubbed her slit vigorously, growing more frantic with each moment.

She pushed two fingers inside. The sensation made her whimper; she hadn't meant to. She bit her lip and tried to stay silent, but she could not control her breathing. She watched both corridors attached to this chamber, waiting to see if some manner of creature or trespasser came to investigate the sound and found her in this state.

Her fingers pushed deeper inside her, out and back in again, just as deep. She couldn't stop even if she wanted to. Her legs crossed over her hand, pressing it tighter against her crotch. She added a third finger and increased the tempo. With the hand of her injured arm she caressed her navel before moving up to her breasts again. The feeling was returning to those fingers as the magic did its job. She squeezed one breast, holding the nipple between two fingers and pinching it. She was moaning now and she could not stop that either.

Her eyes darted from one corridor to the other, waiting for someone or something to enter. What would they think seeing her like this? What would they do to her?

The climax was coming, she could feel it. Heat built up in her face, across her chest, between her legs. She pumped her fingers in and out, harder, faster.

The explosion of pleasure rocked her body. Her pelvic muscles tightened around her fingers but she did not pull them out. She gritted her teeth to hold back a scream.

For almost a minute every muscle in her body held its tension, riding the wave of ecstasy for as long as it could. It ended when she realised she had forgotten to breathe.

She slumped back against the wall, gasping for air. Her eyes closed and her brow furrowed as she tried to bring her mind back to reality from the feverish state it had just been in. When she opened her eyes again she checked both entrances and was now wholly relieved to see nobody there. The allure of being found had passed.

She drew her shaking hand from between her legs and held it up to the light of the torches above. It was slick with her own juices. A perverse part of her wanted to lick it clean, but giving in to urges like that would threaten to start the whole cycle of pleasure over again.

I can't keep doing this, she thought. This is why I can't go adventuring with a party.

She wiped her hand on the stone floor before fastening her leggings and her belt. There was a wet spot quickly growing between her legs. It was embarrassing, but it should be dried out by the time she returned to the surface.

Clambering to her feet, she stretched to test the wounds on her back. There was no pain; they were fully healed. The same was true of the cut on her abdomen, and the punctures in her arm were scabbed over. The arm was throbbing painfully, but she took that as a good sign for its recovery.

She pulled on her shirt and her leather vest over it. When she moved she could feel the air cold against her back, but there was little she could do about that right now.

She checked her equipment one last time: the sword sheathed on her belt and the dagger in her boot. She considered taking one of the torches in this chamber with her. Dungeons could get very dark the further down one went. But she decided against it, preferring to move stealthily as she had done so far. She hoped there would be chambers with torches like this one further down, just in case.

Sparing one last look for the mimic's corpse, Umbra went deeper into the dungeon, feeling more confident than ever now that she had worked certain feelings out of her mind.