Interlude

The stomach of a dragon was not a kind place. Beyond the fact that it was completely dark and painfully constricting, it was nearly impossible to breathe. Riakon struggled mightily against the monster’s powerful esophagus, but once he was beyond the thing’s tongue, it was all for naught.

The burning started when his feet had reached the part of the stomach where what he assumed was the acid it used to digest its food. Thankfully, his gift from Tiamat made it significantly less painful than it would have otherwise been. Another benefit was the glow produced as the resistance activated. The faint green glow gave him just enough light to give him his orientation within his fleshy prison.

Riakon’s first thought was to wedge his hammer sideways to make space for him to crawl out except he couldn’t find his hammer. He was pretty sure he had it while being swallowed, but the shaking and chewing that followed the dragon closing its mouth around him was when he must have lost his grip.

His second plan for escape was to unleash his breaths except those had their own problems. Poison wouldn’t do in such a confined space. Acid felt like it would only compound his dilemma. Cold seemed so stupid it was immediately his last resort.

He had already used his lightning breath, so that only left fire and his holy water. Riakon decided he would wait for just the right moment given those were his only options, confined as he was with his arms trapped and his toes sloshing around in stomach acid.

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The smell was something altogether unique. It reminded him of how bask liqueur tasted, but it had a putrescence to it that was nauseating on its own level. If all of those other impediments weren’t bad enough the rumble and undulation of the rest of the dragon’s gastrointestinal tract was a constant reminder of what was in store for him if he didn’t escape.

Shortly after being swallowed, Riakon had faith Errrkkkk would get him out. Between him and Roden, they would get him out. When he felt the dragon tense up and expand, his previous level of optimism dropped. When he felt the dragon exhale he noticed a faint blue glow like a light at the end of a long tunnel.

It was at that moment he decided that would be his signal. The next time he saw that glow he would unleash his flames. When the time came he took as big of a breath as he could, a requirement to propel his elemental attacks.

What he hadn’t accounted for was the revolting assault on his senses such a deep breath would bring. Instead of flames Riakon vomited a deluge of acid for the second time in his life. By some miracle he was able to aim the stream down into the dragon’s stomach.

The powerful acid burned his legs and ate away at the fabric of his pants. In typical Riakon fashion he had made the situation worse. He could feel a powerful cold press in around him as the dragon was no doubt releasing its powerful cold breath.

Riakon was desperate. His options were bleak. It was then he remembered he had one saving grace. He reached into his dimensional bag and pulled out his mask from the mushroom cave from their first adventure.

He held the mask over his snout, breathed as deeply as he dared, and released his breath of fire straight up the dragon’s throat.

What Riakon didn’t know was the state of his hammer. It had slipped from his grasp and fallen all the way into the dragon’s stomach.

There it laid in a mixture of powerful draconic acids, first from the stomach itself and second from Riakon’s very own breath. The various carbon based metals within the weapon were rapidly oxidizing, a process that while destroying the weapon was producing a substantial amount of colorless, odorless, and non-toxic hydrogen gas.