565 Imp Spirits

Back to Jake's group, although they had shown the foresight to flee first, the threat they were currently facing was in no way inferior.

"What-what the heck is that?" Will cursed as he saw the walls of the tunnel they were running through begin to contract and convulse erratically.

It was like the peristalsis of a digesting intestine, slowly pushing its food towards its ineluctable destination. Needless to say, Jake and the others had no desire to end up as Dungeon Digestor turds.

"Someone disobeyed the rules." Grash growled as he slurred the culprit's ten generations with all sorts of orcish expletives that bore a resemblance pig oinking.

Still running, Jake's and the others' curiosity was piqued and he asked in earnest,

"Grash, you finished your Fourth Ordeal, right? You should know something about that, no?"

The pig-like orc's face grew solemn upon receiving this question. His forehead creased with concentration, the alien finally shook his head in chagrin.