Succubus Inquisition ch 10
Thorn Bentley: Adventuring Specialist
The craft of adventuring changed in a way no one could have ever predicted. The creatures that wanted nothing more than their next meal had all but vanished. The remaining bloodthirsty horrors began to evolve, thirsting for 'other' fluids, such as human essence. However, those that experienced this new phenomenon rarely escaped to talk about it. The ones that did were met with laughter and humiliation for telling such outrageous, far-fetched lies, or wet dreams as others said in rolling laughter.
For adventurers like Thorn Bentley, it was like stealing the King's jewels in an abandoned castle! He hadn't needed to use his trusty daggers on anyone or creature in almost two weeks. At first, he didn't believe all the whispers and gossip. Embarrassingly he had been among those laughing at the stories. However, he started to believe, as fewer traveling parties were being attacked on the roads. Before long it became safe to tread in the forests and jungles and all places abandoned in between.
Thorn started small with old crypts and known caves. He easily bypassed traps and secured precious loot. It had been enough to purchase a new set of leather armor. Nothing over the top or heavy. Just enough to improve his sneaking game meanwhile protecting him if he missed a trap here or there. No one was perfect, after all. His old, worn armor was proof of that. He had made plenty of mistakes in the past, mostly against creatures that were no longer a threat.
The part of his new gear that had cost the most had been the custom designed sheaths for his daggers. He had requested them to make his daggers blend in with his armor. Add a simple, worn-down looking sword at his hip and no one would notice his best weapons right there on his chest.
Several months later the adventurer sat alone in his favorite tavern, drinking ale. Thorn Bentley listened carefully to his surroundings while pretending to be lost in his drink. This was how he learned of his last 'job.' Now, however, the hushed whispers spoke of people going missing.
It had now been almost a year since monsters and the like had dwindled down to rare occurrences. His ears perked up when two newcomers sat down at a table near him. They were hunched over toward each other. Thorn took another sip, making himself appear like another drunken slob about to pass out.
"It was like nothing I've seen before. A dried-up corpse with a big o'grin on its face. Looked like it had been dead for years but it's." The hooded man gestured down between his legs, "it was still hard!" He hissed with wide eyes.
Thorn almost choked hearing that, but kept his composure, pretending to be drunk, spilling a bit of his ale. The second man laughed while the first look around nervously to make sure no one had heard him. His clothes were tattered and filthy, sweat making him look greasy.
"I'm serious, it was the most disturbing sight I'd ever seen," the man whispered hysterically while trying to keep his voice down, making his voice almost squeak.
~*~
That eavesdropped conversation kept repeating on Thorn's mind. It had been a few weeks prior, and the tales just kept coming, like the olden days. Except they weren't the once common tales of bloody, half eaten remains. Thorn didn't know which was worse though, then or now. He imagined they were one and the same, death was still death in the end.
During the tavern's busiest hour, he heard what he had been patiently waiting weeks for. Hushed whispers of an abandoned dungeon, known for its troublesome vault. They spoke of how ancient and yet undisturbed the chamber appeared. Bentley didn't wait around to hear more. He had been waiting for a lead like that. One that would set him up for life, or at the very least for a while.
That's how he found himself creeping down a poorly lit tunnel, hand on his sword's hilt, for appearances of course. The only sound he could hear in the empty stone tunnel was the persistent echo of water dripping. That and his heartbeat thumping in his ears. The boots he wore never made a sound as long as he concentrated on each step, making sure he didn't make a rookie mistake by stepping on a stick, loose stone, or the like.
In days long gone the tunnels would have been filled with half decaying monsters or giant, nasty humanoid rats. He would have needed a group of fellow brave adventurers to even have a chance of reaching the vault deep within. Now though? He just crept along, all the lonesome, keeping watch for traps.
What had scared off all the world's creatures? Or an even scarier question, had they even been scared off? What if they had all been eradicated by something much more sinister? Survival of the fittest... he gulped at the mere thought of something killing off it's competition only to lure in adventurers with a false sense of security.
Just... like... him...
~*~
It felt like it took hours to find the correct path in the ancient tunnels and enter the grand chamber the whispers spoke of. But finally, he felt the stress of his adventure lift from his shoulders as he laid eyes upon the large golden vault door. He smiled wide and walked up to it, placing his hand on its surface, only to gasp at its warmth. He had expected to feel cold steel, ancient stone or something of the like.
"Mmhmm..."
Thorn jumped a foot into the air, pushing off the vault as the strange unnatural moan echoed all around him. In a fit of panic, he unsheathed his sword, spinning in search of the culprit. Someone had beat him, reaching the vault. Frantically he searched for the possible ambush.
Alas he stood alone, he sighed and took notice of his surroundings, a noteworthy detail met his troubled eyes. Bodies everywhere in various states of decay, all around him. Humanoid remains, but not all were human. All of them shared one common trait, large smiles on their dried-up faces... just like the rumors had stated.
He started to feel lightheaded since he started hyperventilating... the rumors were true! Something was killing off everyone, creature and adventurer alike! Using the vault as a lure and taking the bait just like all of these fools.
"Screw this! No treasure is worth my life," he mumbled to himself, frantically looking for the way he entered. There were three identical doors and for the life of him, he couldn't remember which one he entered from. Had he spotted the vault door at an angle or head on?
"Damn it man!" Why didn't he take a moment to look around before rushing straight in to touch it.
A hiss and echoing grinding of gears sounded as Thorn dreadfully glanced back at the vault door. A small hatch about waist high slid open and black smoke bellowed out, as if an intense fire had started within the great vault.
If he thought he had panicked before, now his heart was pounding in his chest. He spun on his heels and decided it didn't matter which door he picked, he had to get out now. Only his panic intensified when he was met with solid stone walls. The three entrances were gone!
"No no no!!" He rushed forward, touching the wall across from the vault, hoping it was just an illusion. Either that or his mind playing tricks on him. He would be ok with either, but unfortunately the wall was solid, and sturdy. The smoke tickled his ankles causing him to glance over his shoulder. The hatch no longer spilled out smoke and he noticed the thick vapor lingered on the ground in a thick layer just at his ankles.
The tickling sensation continued as he felt his body starting to warm up. A thin layer of sweat began forming on his brow as he stared at the open hatch. Faint moans were coming from within the vault and the more he focused the more the sultry sounds echoed around in his mind as if all around him. If he concentrated, he swore he could hear a voice mixed in there.
His body was reacting even though he couldn't make out the voice's words. He gulped and scratched at his belly, just below the leather chest plate, feeling his pants getting tighter by the second.
"Put it in..."
"Give in..."
Thorn Bentley struggled as he stood there, sweating. His pants were achingly tight as one hand crept towards his belt. The other let the sword slip from its grasp, the echoing clang went unnoticed as he reached up and pulled his shirt's collar away from his neck, sallowing, staring at that small hatch, perfectly situated at waist level. As if meant for his...
Within that hole he couldn't see anything, only darkness. He took a step closer. The moans and sexual sounds pulled him as if caught on that lure he had pictured earlier. With each step towards the vault, he could make out that mysterious voice just a bit clearer.
That's it my love, come to me..."
Her words trailed off as a shiver ran up his spine. The hand at his waist pawed at his growing desire, rubbing himself through his leather pants. He pictured himself undoing his belt and placing his member within the hole, back arched in organic bliss. Only to blink away the images, as if they weren't of his own volition. Confusion mixed with arousal, clouding his mind. Despite how distracting that voice was he still glanced around the room. Particularly at the bodies laying all around him. They all looked happy, as if they felt intense pleasure... before they died.
The image of him thrusting his dick into that hole flashes on his mind again to no avail. His fear won out in the end, removing his hand from his aching crotch, and stepping backwards. The alluring voice cried out as if pained by his departure.
"Ignore them, for they can't hurt you any longer. Come to me morsel..."
The voice tickled, making him flinch as he scratched his ears. His body felt the pull as if unnaturally reeling him in. His blood kept pumping south and things became difficult to focus on. Anything other than the hatch of course. The hole beckoned for him, and his body wanted nothing more than to obey its call.
