The Unsated Maw [Tales]

Disco Tech, EDM, Dungeon Synth, catchy, modern beats, low harp, somber

There’s mold on the walls and rust on the floor,
The stone bleeds wet and the air tastes sore.
A stair that coils down where the sane won’t tread,
Past hanging chains and the ancient dead.

The moss creeps low where the ceiling sags,
With every breath taken, resisting a gag.
The torch burns low as the darkness grows,
Where the air gets thick and your weakness shows.

The dark bites back as the corners bend,
No turning back, you can't pretend.
No map to guide through the chamber you found,
Just stones that shift in this burial ground.

Deep in the dark, the message remains,
Carved in the bone, it said with old blood stains:
“Turn back now, or feed the Maw
It will not heed. And knows no law.”

No light remains, no hope, no sound
Just teeth that snap beneath the ground.
It waits below, it needs to feed...
It always comes for what it needs.

No blades will swing, no traps will snap
Just creeping dark and the scent of sap.
And deeper still, past breath and bone,
You're way far out, and all alone.

It waits. Mouth wide. Still as the dead,
A ridge of teeth in a sunken head.
No eyes to see, no lungs to breathe
Just pulsing jaws and rows of teeth.

It pulls the air, with a rush, run fast!
Then splits the ground, like wood with an axe.
Its bite is blind, but dead-on true,
It hunts by hunger, and it hunts for you!

Your steel won’t help. Your shield won’t hold.
Its skin is dense, and its blood runs cold.
But once it strikes, it falls to rest...
That moment’s short. So strike its chest.

Between the ribs where bones protrude,
Are swollen glands that guard its brood.
Drive your blade and twist it raw:
That’s how you end the Unsated Maw!

"You’ve done it!"

The beast lies still, a  sundered mass.
Its life is gone. Its hunger  passed.
Your blade drips black; with heat and grease
And yet it's presence, does not cease.

The reward, what’s left? A vault of spoil.
Chests of gold, cloth and coil.
Blades once swung by kings long dead,
And books of spells that no tongue has read.

Take what you will, but mark this fact:
The Maw is patient. It WILL come back!
It leaves a mark that you’ll never feel
And brings you back when it breaks the seal!

2157/7500

There’s mold on the walls and rust on the floor, The stone bleeds wet and the air tastes sore. A stair that coils down where the sane won’t tread, Past hanging chains and the ancient dead. The moss creeps low where the ceiling sags, With every breath taken, resisting a gag. The torch burns low as the darkness grows, Where the air gets thick and your weakness shows. The dark bites back as the corners bend, No turning back, you can't pretend. No map to guide through the chamber you found, Just stones that shift in this burial ground. Deep in the dark, the message remains, Carved in the bone, it said with old blood stains: “Turn back now, or feed the Maw It will not heed. And knows no law.” No light remains, no hope, no sound Just teeth that snap beneath the ground. It waits below, it needs to feed... It always comes for what it needs. No blades will swing, no traps will snap Just creeping dark and the scent of sap. And deeper still, past breath and bone, You're way far out, and all alone. It waits. Mouth wide. Still as the dead, A ridge of teeth in a sunken head. No eyes to see, no lungs to breathe Just pulsing jaws and rows of teeth. It pulls the air, with a rush, run fast! Then splits the ground, like wood with an axe. Its bite is blind, but dead-on true, It hunts by hunger, and it hunts for you! Your steel won’t help. Your shield won’t hold. Its skin is dense, and its blood runs cold. But once it strikes, it falls to rest... That moment’s short. So strike its chest. Between the ribs where bones protrude, Are swollen glands that guard its brood. Drive your blade and twist it raw: That’s how you end the Unsated Maw! "You’ve done it!" The beast lies still, a sundered mass. Its life is gone. Its hunger passed. Your blade drips black; with heat and grease And yet it's presence, does not cease. The reward, what’s left? A vault of spoil. Chests of gold, cloth and coil. Blades once swung by kings long dead, And books of spells that no tongue has read. Take what you will, but mark this fact: The Maw is patient. It WILL come back! It leaves a mark that you’ll never feel And brings you back when it breaks the seal!

0/500