Thalindra, a world that teetered between beautiful and horrifying. On the surface, there were countless flora, fauna, and overall landscapes to catch one's eye. Look a bit deeper though, and one could easily find themselves lost. Beasts, monsters, creatures of malicious power lurked throughout. It was a lesson quickly learned by all to remain cautious, as there were things in this world that would not hesitate to rip one of their lives. For better or worse, one of the many species to adapt to this world were humans. So often were they to form their alliances, find themselves as peace seekers and protectors. In the same regard, there were a great many that sought to conquer or destroy. It was this inconsistent nature that often led to mixed opinions from the other races, with many unsure on whether they could ever truly co-exist. Still, much of humanity persisted for the better. Grand cities had been built throughout the continents to work as strongholds, safe havens, and a general deterrent to any would-be threats. Possibly the most well developed one was known as the Free City of Aberon. An overall neutral city, Aberon was home to thousands of humans, as well as an assortment of other races that had made themselves allies. A place more unified than most, Aberon was bountiful in resources from all over. This had not only led to great trade and recreation, but had also heavily influenced the might of their military. Outside of the general garrisons of knights, mages, and rogues, they had established several specialized divisions. One of their most well known was composed of blessed warriors who channeled unique connections to the divine in order to conquer their foes. This formation was known as the Radiant Verdict, and their mission was as holy as it was endless. Dark, corrupted forces were always moving with intent to create despair and these holy fighters were usually the ones sent to cleanse the world of such wickedness.
One of their most devoted paladins was Eleanora. She was a youthful warrior who had been part of the Radiant Verdict for the past eight years, often shadowing other, more experienced paladins until very recently. Now 32 years old, she had been given the authority to act on her own. Having tracked down and slain her fair share of evils, she was more qualified than most her age and had done well to uphold and increase the reputation of herself and the Radiant Verdict as a whole. Talent aside, she was also something to behold visually, becoming something of an icon for both beauty and righteousness when the people of Aberon thought of the paladins. Constantly on the move while lugging around all that gear had led to a very well crafted body that was capable of performing extreme feats of agility and strength for someone of her slender stature. Though naturally 5' 10", her armor brought her up to 6' 0" and the way in which she carried herself made many, even those taller, feel small in her presence. Her skin was pale, soft in complexion. Bronze eyes brought comfort to friends, daggers to foes. Her hair, grey as the metal in her armor reached all the way down her back, though she preferably kept it braided while working, often wrapping said braiding around her neck to limit any unnecessary movement. In terms of equipment, she was more than set for the life she lived. Through her inner thighs and crotch, one could see the white cloth that was used for pants, a shirt, and socks. Her outer thighs, hips, shins, and calves exposed the leather armor that she wore throughout the majority of her body as a first layer of actual protection. Then came the iron that shaped her gloves, braces, chest, back, shoulders, knees, and boots. Over all of this, she wore a blue, hooded cloak. While not a traditional form of armor, this cloak was multi-layered and did wonders to insulate her and mask the majority of her body, allowing her to better infiltrate areas with a high modicum of stealth. Then came her main weapon, that being a hefty double edged sword that was as wide as her arm and as long as she was tall. Strapped to her left hip with a series of belts was a small leather satchel that carried an array of tools and supplies. Lastly, but certainly the most important for her was an enchantment that was given to all her gear that helped to resist the many things she ventured to kill. Without this enchantment, her armor could quickly fall victim to corrosion or be manipulated against her.
Current affairs had given Eleanora intel of a new witch that had made herself known over the last few weeks. Dozens had gone missing along with several businesses having been ransacked for resources commonly utilized in dark alchemy. Having caused too much terror, Eleanora was set on vanquishing this menace. Through her own investigation, tracking this witch had led her twelve miles southeast of Aberon. This area was shrouded in shadows with a seemingly everlasting series of clouds overhead. She had already been traveling for two days now and was in the process of hiking up a mountain path that led to the ruins of a long since abandoned fortress. Much of said fortress looked to be missing, likely having fallen years ago to rockslides. Even as she moved, she'd occasionally have to avoid bits of rock that fell from above or sidestep as some of the rocky trail caved in beneath her. This would do little to phase her however as she confidently made it to and stepped within the ruined structure. An eerie wind moved throughout the rooms and halls, each passing breeze sounding like a whisper. Still, Eleanora persisted past the haunting air until she came across her target. Deep in what looked to have been an old dungeon knelt a cloaked figure whose arms waved above. She was positioned in front of a red circle that contained a series of markings, all the while a fog of black and purple leaked from her figures to form a swirling cloud above. Eleanora recognized this fog to be one that derived from abyssal sorcery, the red circle being one for summoning. Nothing about this could be good, so without further delay, Eleanora stomped forth and brandished her sword.
"Whatever evils you seek to unleash end here."
"Hm?" The cloaked figure stood and turned to face the one who'd dare to interrupt her. The sight was one to make Eleanora uneasy. For one, this witch looked remarkably young, possibly in her early twenties, though this wouldn't be the first time that a witch had found a way to extend their youth or their lifespan. Eyes and hair were a dark purple, though her left eye almost seemed to illuminate. But what really struck Eleanora was how nearly half of this woman's pale, smooth face had been replaced by that of a scorched indigo hued flesh that stretched from her lower left jaw, across her left cheek, and went throughout half her forehead. More concerning was that while this witch still retained her seemingly natural mouth, there was an entirely new set of jaws and teeth that looked to be ripping open to the left of her nose, all the way back to her left ear. This 'secondary mouth' puffed a mist of purple-black breath reminiscent of the fog above. It looked so painful, yet the witch smiled, her eyes narrowing in on the paladin as she stretched her arms outward.
"Cease and surrender yourself. I will not say this again."
"yAwAe FiLrEh Ek AtDnA nRo BeRsEvLe SrU oYdNiF."
"Stop!" Eleanora grimaced at the cursed words of the witch, watching as both her left eye and hands began to glow a radiant purple.
"NeL lAfEc NiS gNoLs TiRiP sEvObA mOr FeSiR."
Thin, black strings shot out from the witch's finger tips and ventured about in all directions. Some would slither their way through the walls, the halls, the sky, and the floor below. Then in a matter of seconds, each string began to tighten. A series of screams then echoed throughout the structure. Eleanora watched as ten visibly flailing spirits were pulled in by the strings. Each tendril had managed to coil around these translucent figures that she assumed had perished in some way or another within the area; and whether they had been in their form of heaven or hell, they were now being forced into sight. Two came in from her left, three from her right. Two rose from below, two from above, and one right behind her. She wound her sword back and jumped to swipe her sword across the two strings above. It was a clean cut that had the two spirits smiling as they vanished back to where they had come from. She then spun around and slashed each string that connected to the two from below. They as well were freed and fled. As for the remaining six, she was too late. On their own, the remaining strings dissipated and the six spirits were brought into the physical world as undead beings now set to serve the witch.
"DneT uo Hti RehHcrO csDna Kra DehT elGna!"
Before she could even get started on handling her new foes, the witch casted yet another spell that spawned a black orb from above. Said orb would resonate before firing out a flaming ball of black that arched around the room before launching right at Eleanora. She was quick to turn and slash the flame away, just for the black orb to fire out two more flames that arched above and to her side. She'd manage to parry both. The orb then launched three flames, though Eleanora had to make them her secondary focus. Whatever this orb was, it was evidently increasing the amount of projectiles and the six undead warriors had encircled her. From her left, one dashed with open jaws in an effort to chomp her. Eleanora would side step and slice through the creature's torso as another grabbed at her hood from behind and yanked her back. Off balance, two of the undead took the opportunity to bring their arms up and slam their fists down, causing Eleanora to receive four fists to the torso that had her crashing onto the ground. The two wound up for another strike, but she was quicker and used her back and shoulders to essentially throw herself into a backwards summersault with enough force to propel herself off the ground and cave both her boots into the chest of the one who had pulled her hood. She'd land on her feet and slice through that one's neck, just as the three fire balls stuck her in the back. Aside from the impact, her enchantment seemed to do well in shielding her from any long lasting damage, though she wasn't keen on seeing how much more she could tank.
Four balls of black fire then shot forth and encircled her as though waiting for when to strike. One of the four remaining undead launched itself at her, leaving themselves wide open for Eleanora to drive her sword right through its abdomen. This act would lead to the haunting cackle of the witch as she finally decided that she no longer needed to observe this fight and could go back to the circle she had been working on. Eleanora was a bit perplexed until seeing that the undead she had stabbed was now clinging with both arms to her sword. She tried to pull back, only for two others to step forth and use their arms and bodies to keep the sword from being brought back. Uncaring for the cuts being made as they did so, Eleanora was forced to let go and jump back to avoid a fire ball that was inches from striking the side of her head. She'd slide to her left, jump forth, backwards, and swivel as each flame ball took a turn at trying to strike her. She was agile enough to continue weaving as she reached into her satchel and pulled out a small vial. With no time to spare, she smashed the vial between her hands and smeared the inner substance throughout her palms, fingers, and knuckles. Similar to holy water, this was a concentrated gel that had been blessed by the priests of Aberon. Seconds after she had coated her hands, a fire ball came in from behind. This time, instead of dodging, she spun around and punched right through it. The fire dispersed instantaneously.
She then faced back to the four undead. The one who wasn't holding the sword ran forth along with the remaining three fire balls, only to find their skull shattered into hundreds of fragments as Eleanora drove her fist through. She continued to counter every fire ball with another punch as she made her approach to the last three. Two broke their hold of the sword and charged forth. Both swung their arms with Eleanora managing to dodge and grab one of them to be used as an undead shield to black the five new fire balls that tried to hit her from behind. She then wound the body back and swung it forth to smash it through the body of the other with such strength that they were both made into a pile of broken flesh and bone. One left, the one who she had stabbed earlier seemed unsure of what to do. They looked from side to side at their fallen undead, but before they could come up with anything, Eleanora gripped the hilt of her sword and yanked it upward, cleaving the final undead in half. It was just in time too as six balls of black fire came in from behind. Now that she had her sword again, it was an effortless motion to slash through all six as she reached into her satchel and grabbed a small pouch. From within, she grabbed a handful of what appeared to be a golden dust, almost like sand. A blessed powder, she closed the distance between herself and the black orb before blowing said powder out from her palm. "Esare."
Reacting to her voice, the powder seemed to blow about in all directions and like an acid, ate away at the corpses of the undead as well as the black orb, all the while shining a bright light throughout the darkened room. Eleanora then took a breath and marched on over to the witch whose summoning circle was now glowing. Knowing that words would not sway, she threw her sword with all her might at the dark sorceress. The witch, who had noticed the earlier light, was already on edge over how quickly her spells were being dispatched by the paladin. She thought that she'd have more time, but she could not speak fast enough as Eleanora's blade pierced right through her right thigh and into the ground, effectively pinning the witch down. Her blood spilled from her wound in a mix of red, purple, and black. The witch turned the best she could, gasping as Eleanora stood just a foot away now, scowling down with merciless eyes. The witch then turned quick and sputtered out what she could.
"dNAm LAeRMoR FhTRo FLeVArTD nOYeB MoR FeRU tAEr CTaERg- Ack!" Uninterested in hearing the witch continue, Eleanora grabbed the witch by the hair and pulled her upward. Her sword, still embedded into the ground, cut through the witch's knee and upper calf, completely obliterating the muscle and bone throughout and ensuring that she wouldn't be using that leg again. The witch shrieked in anguish, flailing her one working leg as she tried to pry the palm of the paladin off. "NO! Wo NRet Sa MymOtk CaB emGniRb!" The witch then vanished into a purple haze, Eleanora's grip clenching tight where the head of the witch had just been. She grit her teeth, ready to curse herself out for failing her mission. Before she could however, her attention was drawn to the red summoning circle as it glowed brighter than ever.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Johnson Wayne Napier; the name of a man who had spent the last 8 years of his life in service of the Marine Corps. He had only ever wanted to do what he could to honor and defend the country he loved and he had done a damn good job. He had managed to earn several promotions and medals throughout his time, experiencing combat on the front lines, tactical planning with well decorated generals, as well as performing within several dozen covert missions all across the globe. As much as he seemed to thrive in such environments, he had gone through his fair share of close calls and through some pressure from his peers, he had been convinced to try his hand at a normal life away from the dangers of war. Now 29 years old, Johnson was a veteran in a world now unfamiliar. The military had worked it out with the government to give him regular checks every month to support himself, though he quickly found it to be a great struggle to find ways to occupy his time. He didn't have much family or friends outside of the military to socialize with and it had been nearly a decade since his last attempt at a love life. Even with a fairly nice and free apartment, he felt the need to do more. Alas, finding a hobby when you've spent so many years pulling the trigger was more difficult than he had expected and finding work was just as challenging. There were some obvious options, given his background. Even though he was no longer a soldier, he made an effort to maintain a well toned, muscular build. His hair, bright and brown, felt alien in any style other than buzzed. In theory, he'd make an excellent bouncer or security guard, though both jobs rarely lasted more than a few days as a result of him either going too far or feeling empty. Still, he assumed things would work themselves out eventually. He just had to keep going. It had been nearly a month of life as a civilian and through awkward struggle, he had made it through the majority of the day and was now lying in his bed. He was just about to fall asleep too when a purple light flashed around him and he felt himself falling.
The next thing he knew, he was lying on a cold concrete-like surface. A purple-black fog surrounded him, startling him up onto his feet as his days in the military led him to believe that he had just been struck by some sort of chemical attack. He held his breath and waved his arms to try and clear the smoke. It would dissipate faster than expected and with there being nothing left to blur his vision, he was left wide eyed as he was face to face with what looked to be an absolutely massive, slanted structure of metal with a sharpened edge. He looked below, confused as said metallic structure was not connected to the ground. He then looked up and jumped back in shock of the titanic figure before him. It looked like some sort of colossal knight, and said knight was aiming her equally colossal sword right at him. He then looked around, and at himself, trying to figure out what was happening. This place was so large, though with this large figure before him, he figured it more accurate, though bizarre, to assume himself as the small one. With that said, he set his gaze back up at her. He had intended to speak, though found himself biting his tongue as her eyes speared him with a heartless glare. His heart raced, his mind trying to rationalize the situation. Had he done something? Was he dreaming? As much as he wanted to ask for answers, he was finding it incredibly difficult to speak. Thankfully, Eleanora was more than willing to break the silence.
"Demon!" Her eyes narrowed and her sword inched forth, its razor edge just an arms length away.
"D-demon?"
Eleanora stomped her boot on the ground, creating a tremor to shake Johnson and have him trembling. "Shut your mouth and listen well. You will reveal the location of that damned witch right now or so help me, I'll do anything but give you a swift death."
"W-wait a minute. I don't… What are you talking about?! A witch? I don't even know where I am! Who are you?"
Eleanora slashed her sword just an inch to Johnson's left, driving it right through the ground with enough force to create a shockwave that bounced Johnson up into the air, only for him to crash back onto his stomach. He'd struggle onto his hands and knees as Eleanora brought her sword back and re-aimed it at him. "I have no patience for your games. Small as you are, you were brought here by her and I can sense her energy in you. A witch rarely casts a spell without reason."
Johnson sat on his knees and stared up at her, shrugging as he had no idea what she was speaking of. Silence was evidently not what she was looking for as her sword drew closer until its sharpened tip was practically touching his chest. Dream or not, he didn't want to experience being on the other end of a skyscraper sized sword. "I…look, I'm sorry. I really don't know what it is that you're talking about. I don't understand what is happening and I don't know what you mean by a witch. I was at my home trying to sleep and just appeared here. I have no intentions of doing anything to bother you or anyone around wherever it is that we are."
Eleanora grit her teeth, keeping her position for a few moments before finally pulling her sword back. She was still suspicious and quite frankly ticked that the witch was gone, but this man couldn't have been any more than 6 inches tall. It was difficult to convince herself that he could actually be that dangerous, especially with how well she had fared against the witch's earlier magic. This man also genuinely appeared to be terrified and confused beyond belief. Given who she was, she could understand the fear, but he looked as though he actually had no clue on where he was. With a defeated sigh, she sheathed her sword and placed a hand to her hip as she looked Johnson over again. "I'm not saying that I really believe everything you're saying, but I guess you can't really be that much of a threat."
Her words brought forth such relief and insult to Johnson.
"Can't be too sure though and I honestly shouldn't be waiting around like this. If you can't help me then I have to get moving to try and figure this out myself. I don't really know what I should make of you, but regardless of whether you're a scheming demon or an innocent pawn, I can't leave you here. That being said, I certainly can't trust you to be rummaging around my satchel, so we're going to have to work with this instead."
Johnson watched as Eleanora took a knee, her shadow casting him in darkness as she worked to undo the various buckles and straps of her right boot. Once loose, she slid it off to reveal her sock clad foot. What had once been a clean white fabric was now a darkened grey as a result of dust, dirt, and layer upon layer of sweat she had accumulated throughout her travels over the last few days. It was a sight that had both Johnson and Eleanora cringing, but Eleanora didn't have the time to second guess or pity what she was about to do. She reached on over to Johnson and pinched him with her index finger dug into his stomach and her thumb pressed into his back. Anything but gentle, she left him winded as she lifted him off the ground and brought him above her now vacant boot. Johnson was already trying his best to stay composed with the fact that he was being hoisted around by a literal giant of a person, all the while trying his best to breathe through the pressure of Eleanora's digits; but the second her fingers stopped moving, his attempts to squeeze in an inhale were replaced by gagging. He looked down with eyes wide. He could actually see the waves of heat radiating out of the boot, carrying with it a ripe aroma that washed over him. He looked up to try and ask why she was doing this, but couldn't even manage to speak a word as she let go and allowed him to drop within. He'd scream and fall for about two seconds before falling flat on his face, the front half of his body sinking softly into the heel of her insole.
The impulse to catch his breath after the fall would have him jumping up and falling back onto his butt as his nose was flooded with the pungent stench of aged sweat. The insole he was now on was practically a sponge that had soaked in a great deal of what Eleanora had been producing these past days and with every little prod from his body, the collected sweat seeped out and coated him until her sweat had in essence become his. Wiping the sweat off was about as vain of an effort as trying to hold his breath, though both issues would be overshadowed in the face of what now loomed. Eleanora's toes, still wrapped up in her damp sock, were wriggling their way back into the boot. They blocked out nearly all the light and forced Johneson to crawl backwards in an effort to distance himself. He wouldn't get very far however as Eleanora slid her entire foot down. Johnson had just narrowly avoided the greater pressure of her heel, but had found his legs and waist pinned underneath her arch. The ball of her foot would land firmly upon his stomach and chest, all the while he found himself unlucky enough to have her toes lined up perfectly with his head. In one quick motion, his entire body was pressed flat as Eleanora fastened her boot back on. The pressure that came with her standing back up was unreal. Any air that had been left in his body had been forced right out with his body flat and at the mercy of Eleanora's weight. Unable to move an inch, he let out a wheezed little whine. Sock, sweat, and toes muffled any noise he could make however, not that it mattered if she could actually hear him. With her new little companion secured within her boot, Eleanora got a move on.
It was hard enough for Johnson to think when having literal tons of weight and sweat compressed into him, but that first step made it clear that he really hadn't experienced the worst of it. As her foot swung him with enough force to make him feel as though he were in a jet, the pressure lifted off of him and gave him the chance to breathe. Of course the only air he'd receive was the dense steam of hot musk that was between Eleanora's toes. He'd gag at the stench, soon regretting his choice to open his mouth as Eleanora's foot pressed back down as a result of her step. Compressed once more, Johnson felt as though he was going to break as he was now being sandwiched between the sweat sponge that was her insole and the sponge that was her sock. His entire body was practically submerged and to make matters worse, a heaping pool of sweat had seeped from the sock and filled his mouth and nose. This salty, bitter brine had his body trying to convulse beyond control for how it both felt and tasted, though he'd be unable to budge. The most he could accomplish under Eleanora was a scream that just gurgled the sweat. Eleanora then took another step. Johnson would receive another chance to breathe, but any effort he made to spit the sweat from his mouth was proven pointless as more sweat simply took its place as Eleanora had more than enough to share. By her third step, he had no choice but to simply swallow and snort up the sickening liquid in order to finally catch a breath of her swampy toe flavored air.
After taking the time (1000+ steps) to fully check out the other parts of the fortress, Eleanora finally made it out. Unfortunately, she was unable to find any distinct clues that could lead her toward the witch. In this world, teleportation came in so many forms that it was pretty much impossible to really know how far she could have gone, let alone which direction she went. Low as her chances were, she figured that she could at the very least do a sweep of the area. Whether it be blood from their ruined leg or that fog, she wanted to be certain of the witch's disappearance. Keen as she was to get going, it was becoming rather impossible not to notice the difference in having a living being stuck within her boot. Though it did nothing to slow her pace, it was strange to feel Johnson's body beneath her with every other step. She could actually feel him fairly well, clocking in on the sensation that was his head wedged into her toes. He was being pressed deeper and deeper with every step of her right foot and for all that time being stomped on, he seemed unable to move. If she weren't so fixated on finding the witch, she may have taken some more time to appreciate this. She knew the kind of state her feet, socks, and boots were in and to think that she was currently putting a demonic entity through such a situation was something to give her some satisfaction. Still, to think that something sinister would willingly allow her to actively step on them had her doubtful. She would've expected more of a struggle, so the fact that he was currently not doing anything to try and get himself out told her that he was incapable of doing so and had her further wondering if he was actually just some guy that had been brought into this. While a bit more unfortunate of a possibility, Eleanora could still find some comfort knowing that regardless of who Johnson was, she had made sure that he wouldn't be going anywhere without her intervention.
That was about as much thought as she could really put to something she honestly viewed as insignificant compared to the matter at hand. She was going to have to act fast if she were to have any chance at relocating the witch. As such, she made her way back down the mountain and started the first of several dozen circles she'd be making to check the area. Of course Eleanora made zero effort to lighten herself when taking her steps, meaning that Johnson got to take the full brunt of her weight every single time. With each step, he'd continue to experience the brief torment of suffocation as Eleanora's wet sock pressed into his face like a second skin. It was as though he was being waterboarded with his only real window for air being when she took a stride. This wasn't much better though as Eleanora was continuing to produce fresh sweat that would mix with the old and make its way throughout Johnson's body. Breathing required him to essentially suck in the foul sweat that slathered him. Some strides he'd fail to catch any air all together, only succeeding in swallowing another mouthful of sweat. Other times he was so rushed to get said air that he accidentally sent the sweat down the wrong pipe, causing him to nearly drown every twenty steps or so as samples of her sweat entered his lungs. Then came the heat. It had already been so hot when he was first dropped in, but Eleanora's foot was like a natural oven that pressed all its freshly made heat into him.
An hour that felt like a lifetime would pass and it had become so hot that Eleanora's feet were causing some of the sweat to steam up, resulting in the more intense sauna of Johnson's life. It was as though he were being steamed, boiled, and broiled at the same time. He honestly couldn't understand the logic behind his continued survival as he expected himself to melt by now. Every stomp winded him, pounded his body with the heft of a building and yet his bones remained unbroken. Then came all the sweat. So many mouthfuls swallowed, but getting stepped on had its perks on literally squishing the sweat back out of him. This made sure that Johnson was never truly full and left him wide open to keep taking in what felt like gallons of sweat every minute. Stomp after stomp, he'd endure two more hours, both physically and mentally drained. Still, he remained alive and able to feel, smell, and taste everything with the same intensity as when this had started. The concept of hearing anything other than his own body squelch within the damp confines of Eleanora's boot was now foreign, and he had quickly learned the consequences of trying to see as opening his eyes allowed her accursed sweat soaked sock to scrub against his eyeballs. Still, for all he was enduring, there was only so much that a man could take. Four hours into her patrol, Eleanora had come across the edge of a hill that went several feet straight down toward the path she wished to follow. Hardly an inconvenience for her, she dropped down without hesitation and landed hard on the ground below. The additional force would be enough to actually knock Johnson unconscious, though that bliss lasted only a few seconds as sweat continued to make its way down his throat. He'd be startled awake, just to be put into a fit of choking, then stomping that reminded him real quick of the reality he was now in.
Four hours later had allowed Eleanora to march a two mile radius with no luck. She had checked just about every tree, river, and crack in the ground, but it had become clear that she wasn't going to be finding the witch this day. It was infuriating to know that such a wicked threat still roamed free, but at the very least, she had ensured temporary security. She really did want to just keep moving, but the sun was now dipping into the horizon and she had been on her feet for eight hours straight since exiting the ruins. Topped with the prior days leading to said ruins, she was exhausted and in need of rest.
She'd make her way Northwest for roughly five miles in order to get to a town she had become more acquainted with as of late. It was known as Barod, a relatively small town within Aberon's territory that she had been using as a sort of checkpoint between travels along Aberon's edge. It would have to do for now as Eleanora was beginning to feel fatigued. She'd enter the town and make her way straight to the inn so that she could book a room for the night. She paid and made her way into her room, locking the door behind herself. The room was simple to say the least with a bed, table, chair, and candle light. More than enough for her needs, Eleanora was beyond ready to make herself one with that bed. Before anything though, she reached into her satchel and pulled out a small wooden figure. "Efassu peekdna susselb" She then placed the figure on the table and started to remove her gear. She placed her sword at the corner of the room. From shoulders and torso to forearms and knee caps, she removed the iron. Her boots would be the last bit of metal and as she slid them off, she didn't even acknowledge Johnson as she continued to take off her satchel and the upper parts of her leather armor. As she did so, she came to notice just how sore her left foot was. Her travels to the ruins had already left her muscles a bit worn, but her foot was full on aching now to the point of hurting now whenever she applied pressure to it. On the contrary, her right foot felt just fine. Sure it was a little tired, but was nowhere near in as much discomfort. She paused to wriggle her toes and stretch her ankles, trying to figure out why there was such an extreme difference.
For Johnson, he had no idea what was going on or where they had even gone this whole time. Since finding himself prisoner to her boot, Eleanora had taken over 100,000 steps, meaning he had been stomped on for half of that. It was a beating unlike any he had ever experienced in his life. His entire body was sore, feeling like he was a living bruise. To see even a portion of light in the now vacant boot nearly blinded him as he had spent so many hours in darkness. So much time spent soaking and swallowing. Even with her foot now removed, it was all he could smell or taste. Worst of it all was how quick the repetition of steps had conditioned his mind. It actually felt strange that he was being given more than a few seconds without that mass of a foot coming back down. He was so tired, having faded in and out of consciousness multiple times, never able to truly escape the nightmare of being awake.
While he struggled to exist, Eleanora finally worked out what had happened and darted her head toward her right boot. She peaked, but was immediately repelled by her own self made stench, gagging and plugging her nose with one hand as she used the other to tilt the boot upside down. Johnson's body slowly slid down out and plopped to the wooden floor below. A stream of sweat followed suit, adding insult to injury as it trickled over him. "Huh, so you survived. I won't lie, I honestly forgot you were in there for the majority of the time. You don't look too good. I mean, I can smell my boots from here, so I can only assume how rough it was for you." Eleanora chuckled at the thought, but quickly set her focus back on her armor. She'd go on to take off the remaining leather while Johnson lay a dazed mess on the floor. He hadn't even registered what Eleanora had said, being far too fixated on the sensation of the wood he rested on. His body was literally steaming from how long it had been cooking in that boot. Compared to the wood, it felt as though he was lying atop an ice block. Then came the air. It was so cool to the touch. It was like a sensory overload that had him letting out a weak sigh of relief.
Stripped out of her leather, Eleanora still had her cloth clothing. Drenched up in her own sweat, she was tempted to remove it all, but decided against it since she'd have company this night. "I suppose to some extent I did notice your presence though. Take it as you will, but it seems as though your body was exactly what I needed to provide me with some well needed support. Demon or not, I suppose I can at least thank you for that."
Though still greatly overwhelmed by his past and present environments, Johnson was starting to settle down enough to hear Eleanora. It was after her thanks that he finally recognized the fact that he was no longer trapped within her boot. Upon realizing this, Johnson tried to sit himself up, only to fall flat as his muscles were still getting used to not being flattened. For the time being, he'd just need to relax and take what he could get. The air was so much better to breathe now, though with how much sweat had gone through his nostrils, any air that entered still smelled of Eleanora's foot.
"With that in mind, I would like you to further help me with something." Eleanora then pinched Johnson's torso and sat him up at the foot of her bed. It took so much energy for him to keep himself upright, his eyes finally adjusting and locking in on the giant woman that stood before him. His eyes widened and his breaths hastened at the sight. Even in just a shirt and pants, Eleanora was an imposing sight, though it was entirely possible for that perception to be a result of what she had just forced him through. "My left foot feels horrible. I'm far too tired to be looking for a proper masseuse and it hurts too much to even stand right now. Seeing as you did such a good job with my right foot, I want you to do what you can to make my left foot feel better. Just give it a good rub while I try to sleep, alright?"
She could see his little head shaking from side to side, his little eyes full of dread as he was obviously opposed to her proposal. "Look, I can kinda understand you needing a break as well, but I've been on my feet for days now and the way I see it is that I've not only spared you, but am now stuck with having to keep you around and make sure you are safe. I think it is more than fair for you to make some use out of yourself to bring me a little comfort. Besides, you've already had plenty of time to get used to how my feet are. I'm just requesting some rubbing while I try to go to sleep and once I fall asleep, so can you."
Eleanora went on to peel her sweat soaked socks off and toss them to the side as she got into bed and laid down before Johnson. She'd make sure to position her left foot in front of him, letting out a yawn as she flexed her toes. The sight of her bare, wet sole had Johnson trembling as he scooched himself a few inches away. "If you don't start rubbing, I'll have to get back up and if I have to get back up, you'll be spending the night in my socks."
Inspired to avoid that at all costs, Johnson gulped and steadied himself. With deep reluctance, he stood himself up and moved in on her foot. It was unnerving to see what had been the source of so much sweat. His own skin was still muggy from it all and the skin of Eleanora's sole was still radiating a warm stench that had Johnson shuddering as he pressed both of his hands into the center of Eleanora's arch. His hands sank into her skin with relative ease and with a little pressure, he began to move his palms across the length and width of her arch. Though damp, he was surprised to find how soft and smooth Eleanora's skin was. It made it all the more easy for him to actually feel the more tense knots that were deeper within. He'd apply more and more strength as he rubbed them down and as he loosened her inner muscles, Eleanora let out a coo of bliss. "Oooooo, that feels soooo good~"
Eleanora nestled herself further into the bed, closing her eyes as Johnson continued. At his size, it was similar to having a singular finger pressed into her foot, but with his little hands and fingers, his efforts were far more detailed and managed to break her tension down so well. Getting through her arch took about ten minutes and though he still preferred avoiding her feet all together, Johnson found this task to be fairly easy. It wasn't any easier having to breathe in her foot funk, but he figured he could endure so long as it meant some rest. From her arch, he knelt down and moved on to her heel. Arguably the part of her making the most direct contact with the ground, the skin was thicker and firmer. He'd have to shift from just using his hands to pressing in with his elbows, much to Eleanora's delight as she gave out the occasional "Mmmph~" or "Aaaah~".
After ten minutes of tenderizing the heel, Johnson was starting to feel a rebound of exhaustion. His eyes were growing heavy and to get up from his knelt position had proven more challenging than expected. Alas, as he looked up, he could see Eleanora's toes wiggling about, letting him know that she was still awake and very eager to feel him continue. With a deep sigh, he forced himself up and reached his arms up to get started on the ball of her foot. He could just barely reach at his height, but soon enough, he came up with the idea to just use Eleanora's heel as a sort of stepping stool. The feeling of his little body as it scrambled atop her heel was confusing, but Eleanora had zero complaints once she felt his hands all over the ball of her foot. She was nearly at the point of drooling as he released her of such tension and to top it off, his feet were now pressing his little weight into her heel at the same time, further soothing that area too.
Fifteen more minutes would pass and Johnson had finally finished with the base of Eleanora's foot. All that remained were her toes, a part that he had become all too familiar with. Still, given how relatively small they were, they seemed to be an easy finale to this grueling task. He further climbed up, his lighter weight and mild stickiness of old foot sweat working well to keep him from slipping. As soon as he could reach, he got to work on Eleanora's pinky toe, pretty much just squeezing the nub within his fingers. He then looked to the side of the toe, noticing a build up of dirty lint and dead skin. Further observation revealed little piles of this jam between each and every toe, further reminding him as to why he needed to get this all over with. He'd shift down the line of toes, giving each about two minutes of attention up until her big toe. Much larger, it would take four minutes of attention for him to get through it. As soon as he had finished, he breathed heavily and took a moment to rest his eyes. Hardly able to keep himself awake, it was a blessing to hear the sound of Eleanora snoring as she had finally drifted off into a blissful slumber.
Johnson was so worn out that he could honestly just pass out right where he was, but with Eleanora asleep, he could find himself his own space on the bed to give himself the rest he craved. This dream for sleep would continue to evade him however as Eleanora started to move. In a subconscious effort to shift herself into a more comfortable position, she clenched her toes. Her sweaty nubs would grip Johnson's head and pull him close until he was neck deep between her two largest toes. He screamed in response, both out of fear and hope that she'd hear him and stop. His voice would however be silenced as his face was pressed into her sweat drenched toe jam. The nasty gunk clogged his mouth, plugged his nose, and filled him up with all he had smelled and tasted before. Cranked up to another level of foulness, Johnson pressed his hands to her toes and feet to the ball of her foot. Try as he might to pull himself out, her two toes were proving stronger and it would only become more of a challenge as Eleanora continued to move until she was lying on her side. Johnson's body would essentially remain as it were, though this new positioning left him lined up with the remainder of Eleanora's toes.
Then, as if things hadn't gotten worse enough, Eleanora gave out one last flex of her toes. They'd stretch out, briefly freeing Johnson for about a second before all five of her toes clamped back down on his entire body. His arms, legs, and torso were now pinned tight with her biggest toes squeezing on his neck. He could feel the clammy mash of toe gunk clinging to his body, his mouth filling with her filth. Wishing nothing more than to break free, he began to squirm, but such movements only worked to slightly tickle Eleanora just enough to make her want to clench even harder. It was a painful sensation that had Johnson feeling as though he were going to be squeezed into a paste. It was only when Johnson stopped trying to escape and remained still that she lightened her grip. Even then, it was impossible for him to free himself as the natural weight and pressure of her toes pressing together kept a firm hold. To find himself in such horrid circumstances, Johnson had to wonder what he had done to deserve any of this. Why had he been ripped right out from his own world? Why was he so small? Was all his life, all his time fighting to serve, really meant to end with him at the mercy of someone's colossal foot? Unfortunately for Johnson, his questions and freedom would not come tonight. All he wanted at this point was to sleep, but the only one who'd be getting a good night's rest was Eleanora. She was so comfortable as a result of Johnson, her mind in a world of dreams to keep her smiling as she slept; and in her sleep, she'd remain completely oblivious to the fact that her toes were squeezing any would-be comfort right out of Johnson with a self made slurry of toe funk sliding its way across his body and down his throat, ensuring that his own desires for rest would remain a fantasy.