<span style="font-weight: bold">Ingarl</span><br/><br/><br/>“I don’t mind how you escape, sweet Aviana,” Ingarl practically purrs, “only that you do. It would be… wasteful… to invest my efforts in you, were you destined to be no more than demonshit - as you surely will be, should you be unable to escape when I’m barely trying to keep you within. Fail this test, and you’ll still serve, strengthening me for the challenges to come. Phyrra will… get over it, if you don’t survive,” from somewhere else within Ingarl’s body, you feel an almost-protestful kick, that Ingarl’s muscles in turn squeeze back against. “No attachment to something so weak could’ve been<span style="font-style: italic">lasting</span>, after all. Do<span style="font-style: italic">try</span>and live though,” Ingarl continues, “I’d much rather see you aiding me in my great task than slathered on my breasts. I’ve spun so many new driddersilk chemise since this war began…”<br/><br/><br/>Aviana successfully wriggles down into Ingarl’s lower stomach. It’s much more acidic down here, the sludge much thicker - and as you come across the a bleached-rib-bone in the darkness, you realise why. Even a few minutes has been long enough to strip the possessed drow down to bones and mush. Ingarl’s deadly lower-tum gurgles, and being tossed left and right, you’re quickly in danger of losing track of the way you came in<span style="font-style: italic">or</span>being unable to find the way into her intestines… at least in your case, she isn’t actively trying to crush you to death too...<br/><br/><br/>Damage: 7 acid damage.<br/><br/><br/>Perception DC25 to find your way to Ingarl’s intestinal sphincter… unless you have some clever trick to deploy...