#vilekin

This had to be one of the worst places he could have picked for patrol. While Hero Hikara was both an adventurer and independent, he'd gotten his start in Gridania and felt indebted to the Twin Adder for giving him a chance to grow comfortable in his new homeland. It was an attempt to pay back on that debt which had landed him a solo patrol-route through the recently cleared out Toto-Rak. Recently cleared out meaning he'd been part of the team that ran headlong into the former gaol in order to clear the infestation of venomous wildlife from its halls. Now he was back in order to make sure the vilekin and seedkin had stayed out.

The biggest problem he had with it was how the corridors wound around each other, twisting and turning until he'd come to a dead end and had to find his way back. Even his map felt so damn useless in here. “I should have brought someone else, god this sucks...” He spoke aloud to no one in particular, the eerie silence that hung in the air felt suffocating to the bard, and he felt the urge to fill it with song. Talking to himself was just the first step. Soon his mind was wandering, trying to find anything to liven up this dull journey, and with a faint smile he remembered the game his husband and him had played the night before. Dew thread ropes had bound him to the bed last night as the Au'ra he'd married had claimed he caught Hero sneaking about in his territory and needed to punish him for being such a bad little Miqo'te.

Seeing the remnants of the diremite webbing still clinging to the walls brought back the feeling of being bound up and at his husband's mercy. Raven-furred ears twitched as he thought about the way his love's scales scraped against his skin when they made love. His tail curled as he thought of the heat of his husband's body as they tangled together, biting his lip to hold back a whine of need while his mind wandered – only for him to let out a sharp yelp when he felt webbing stick itself to his face. Spitting and hissing he brushed it away and looked around himself, he'd found what looked like an abandoned nest on accident. At least he hoped it was abandoned.

Checking the map again he had to stop and reach for his bow- he heard the tell-tale chittering of little legs. It wasn't abandoned, something must have moved in recently and was using the leftover webbing as a makeshift nest. At least he wouldn't be bored anymore. The first two died easily- then three more came, and five. By the time he realized he should retreat there were at least a dozen of the little buggers giving chase. He should have dragged his husband along, his arrows were nothing to their hard exoskeletons, the dragoon's lance would be faring much better.

It wasn't until he realized that things had gone silent again when he finally stopped to figure out where he ran to. In his haste to escape the mitelings, he'd run headlong into the chamber where he'd fought the granddaddy banemite of the whole nest. This wasn't a good sign. Had they been herding him to this room, trying to catch him in the dense webbing on the walls? Had the banemite from before been replaced by something bigger and badder? He looked back at the entrance and they were all there, a wall of foes cutting off his only exit. He was trapped, and the loud clacking noise behind him was getting distracting. The loud – oh fucking hell. Hero whipped about just in time for a ball of webbing to shoot the bow out of his hand. “Fuck you! That was a gift!” He ran to retrieve it, but the next ball hit him square in the back of the head, sending his body to the floor where his skull collided with the cobblestones lining the floor.

He came to as something forced its way into his mouth, something sweet, fuck wait. His head was pounding, and trying to open his eyes just made his head spin. Where was he – and why couldn't he move his limbs? Instead he focused on that sweet taste, he'd never had anything like it. Was someone spoon feeding him? It didn't feel like a spoon, more like something long and sticky. He tried to open his eyes again and was met with blurry blackness, blinking wasn't helping either. He couldn't wrap his head around what was happening until the long thing in his mouth started forcing itself down his throat. He swallowed reflexively, only to start to gag on it when it didn't go down right, but it didn't stop. Hero tried to bring his fangs down onto it but the meat was too tough, meat... Long, sweet, sticky, meaty...

His eyes snapped back open and looked around frantically, he could barely turn his head but when he did, there were legs on either side of him. Banemite legs. Oh god, he finally realized what was being forced down his throat, however the realization came too late as a large mass forced its way into his mouth and at risk of choking he had to swallow it down. This thing was laying eggs inside his stomach. He couldn't move, could barely breathe, and every time he managed to get control of his breath back another egg forced itself down. Meanwhile he heard skittering from behind him, his ears twitching and trying to pick up every sound. The sharp clack of armored legs moving across cobblestone, and... Did he hear moaning? It was muffled and quiet, but there were moans going on behind him. What had the Wood Wailer said when he was handed the assignment?

Usually someone else did the patrol through here, but he hadn't shown up for his scheduled patrols in three moons. The commander thought that the man was slacking off, but far from it. He was being put to work alright, just like Hero was. They were both warm bodies to incubate the vilekin's eggs. Or at least, that's why he thought he was here, but the banemite was pulling the long appendage out of his throat when his stomach merely felt full, and moved off him. Maybe it had filled up the poor Wood Wailer and didn't need Hero's body quite as badly. He let out a soft sigh of relief while it pulled away from him, this wasn't too bad- at least, not until they hatched. He shuddered at the thought before remembering that the eggs were in his stomach. Hopefully they'd digest like any other food.

Suddenly something was on his back, something heavy. He couldn't turn to see it, but he could feel the mandibles clacking together, why was the banemite on his back? When he felt the vilekin's appendage prodding for a hole, realization set in. The first round had just been it feeding him, keeping him alive. He was meant to incubate the eggs, and it planned to put them – oh hell no. He tried to struggle again, but his clothing was a more effective barrier against the appendage than his frantic squirming. When the weight lifted from his shoulders and his hole was still intact, there was a brief moment of relief, followed by the realization that he heard more vilekin coming towards him. He was dead, they were going to dispose of him for wearing pants. This was going to be his final moment of life and no one was here to save him.

He could feel one of the little ones climbing over his legs, sending a shiver down his spine. He was going to die here and no one but the egg-laden lancer would ever know how his story ended. The first bite was a pinch on his ass, causing him to yelp, when suddenly he felt something give way with a loud ripping sound. The one little miteling was eating his damn pants and boxers. Soon enough he felt the damp air against his bare ass, but his cheeks warmed with anger. These pants cost him over two hundred thousand gil on the market board, and now they'd been reduced to shredded assless chaps. Of course, he had little time to be irate about the crime against his wardrobe when the banemite was mounting him again.