Vindicta Ch 01 The Druids Revenge

Author's foreword:

I wrote the first part of "Revenge" in January 2023 as my first story ever. Since then, I've delved into other genres, other types of stories, but "Revenge" was the first and I continued writing further episodes.

In December 2023, I published the first episodes on Lit and got a lot of feedback. Reads, votes, some comments, and direct messages. While I was blown away by the way, my work was received, it also became clear what had bothered me about it: "Revenge" was not so much of a story, it was a kind of report - the husk of a story. When you are told, some things become obvious - if you have to figure them out alone, it may take a very long time to understand.

After long exchanges with Djmac1031, I decided to follow his suggestion and rework "Revenge" from scratch. The result is not a new story, but perhaps it could be called "Revenge Remastered." The main content remains the same, but I added a lot of detail to the stories of the characters and background information to transform the old report to a thrilling story. Whether I succeeded, is up to you to decide. I'm looking forward to your feedback.

To provide a clear difference between the old and the new stories, then new version is called "Vindicta", adopting the Latin word for "Revenge". After catching up with the already released "Revenge" parts one to three, I'll continue to rework the others in part never released ones.

@Djmac1031: My deepest thanks for the helpful suggestions and the time you took to edit the reworked stories. Check out Djmac1031's work on Lit, if you like mine, you'll love his!

~~~~~ One ~~~~~

Aithne's Demise

574bc / A Celtic village near Lake Hallstatt, today's Austria, Europe

~~~~~

Aithne hid in the bushes. Her squad had taken position around her, also hiding. This attack was important: the settlement they were observing was the last in the territory they planned to conquer. Just a few hunters, their women, and a few children stood between them and victory. They had killed uncounted settlers in the last few months to take their villages for their own.

It was a warm summer night; the half-moon provided enough light for their plans without revealing too much. She wore her light leather armor, sturdy, but still very flexible. Her fierce fighting style had taken her to the position of the clan's war leader in no time. No man would challenge her, and if they did, they would not have time to regret it. Adrenalin pumped through her veins, every muscle was tensed. Her senses were ringing in anticipation. She took a last look around to check the others.

On her command, they attacked. Sprinting towards the first house, she unsheathed her sword. In the corner of her eye, she saw that everything was working fine - each of them aimed for another house; they wanted to inflict maximum damage before the enemy had time to organize or worse - put up a defense.

Aithne burst through the door. It took only a second to process what she saw. Using the momentum of her speed, she decapitated the man standing in the middle of the room with a single swipe of her sword. With a second swift blow, she killed the woman sitting at the table.

Looking around, she saw a little girl in a bed on one side of the house. Aithne grabbed the candle from the table, and dropping it into the straw nearby, she turned on her heel and rushed out. She didn't even bother to look back because she knew the hut would burst into flames within seconds.

Outside, Aithne spotted two more huts ablaze, smoke rising from several others. She chose the next hut and sped towards it.

"Bowen! What do you think you're doing?" she shouted at one of her warriors. He was dragging a young boy out of one of the huts.

"But he's just a child," the man protested.

"So?" Aithne spat at him. "My order was clear: nobody lives. Follow it or join them." Without hesitation, she ran to the next hut.

---

A short time later, she turned around, admiring their handiwork. They had taken the whole village without any mentionable resistance. She stood between the central huts and raised her hands. Lifting her head, she shouted her victory cry towards the moon.

With a wet splash, her upper torso's front exploded in a spray of blood. Her cry transformed into a gargling. The spear crossed her body from the back at least half of its length. She stood there, a confused look on her face, she turned her head, and the last thing she saw before her world went black was a very young man, shivering in fear and looking in utter terror at her - it was the boy, she'd ordered Bowen to kill.

~~~~~ Two ~~~~~

Fatal Mistake

January 1999 / Eugene, Oregon, a farmhouse just outside town

~~~~~

I was eighteen and my world was still intact. Sitting in my room, I was reading a book when I heard strange noises from my parent's bedroom.

Having dismissed them for a while, I eventually went upstairs to check when they didn't stop. Sneaking through the house, I made my way to the door of the guestroom. I knew there was a peephole in the wall where once a water pipe had crossed to my parent's bedroom.

Looking through, I immediately noticed an orange-red light and something like smoke in the room. Next to the bed stood an impressive shape: the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Only - that it wasn't a woman. A dead giveaway were the huge bat-like wings on her back.

She had an unnatural but very appealing olive-brown tint, the nearly waist-long bright red hair bound in a tight ponytail. On the front of her head, I saw two little red horns. She was slim, muscular, and extremely well-proportioned. Tits just about the right size - not repulsively large, and a cute ass with a long tail.

Wearing a G-string, high-heeled thigh-high boots, elbow gloves along with a tiny bra and wide collar, all in black leather. There was absolutely nothing left to the imagination.

Her green eyes glowed mysteriously.

My parents were on the bed - my father kneeling over my mother when the demon commanded, "Don't just fuck her! She needs more stimulus. Choke her!"

His eyes absent, my father put his hands around her throat and started fucking her at an insane pace.

The woman looked at them with derision and commanded, "Choke her harder!"

After a while, my mother went completely limp. My father didn't react - still fucking like crazy and choking her at the same time.

"Ooops..." the demon said with played surprise, "Too bad, now you've choked her a bit too much. STOP IT!"

He stopped, like struck by lightning, and obediently looked at her.

After a dramatic pause, she shouted: "I'm Drenvynia, Succubus from the third circle of hell, and you laughable mortal dared to call me here to serve you sexually? This is so terminally stupid, that it's nearly cool again."

"But now I've had enough fun." She handed him a large knife. "You may kill yourself."

I watched my father die, and the demon disappeared into thin air. Somehow, I managed not to scream while she was still there. My father had slit his throat and collapsed over the dead body of my mother.

It took me nearly an hour of screaming to come to my senses. My mind was numb. I sat on my bed and thought about what to do now.

"That... thing... killed my parents!" I thought for the hundredth time. "As if it were nothing."

I thought about running away. I thought about killing myself. I was completely desperate. Where would I go? What would I do? Again, tears rolled down from my eyes, although I thought I had none left.

After what seemed like hours of fear, self-indulgence, and despair, I pulled myself together.

What had the demon said?

"I'm Drenvynia, Succubus from the third circle of hell, and you laughable mortal dared to call me here to serve you sexually?"

I shook my head. My father had tried to force a demon to serve him sexually? Why would he do something like that? I needed further information. I needed to do research. I needed to secure any evidence I could find.

Having a plan made me confident. I went to the bedroom, and trying to avoid glances at my dead parents, I collected the book on the floor and the other strange utensils in the room.

Days later, I had made my decision: No matter how long it would take - she would pay for what she'd done to my parents.

~~~~~ Three ~~~~~

Going to Hell

574bc / Hell - outside this plane of existence

~~~~~

She was kneeling on black cobblestones in a large hall. Grabbing her upper torso as if to keep her intestines from bursting out, she uttered a panicked cry. She felt excruciating pain; blood rising in her throat, then she noticed that the pain subsided quickly. Within a blink of an eye, it was gone.

Not understanding, she looked at her hands, then at her body - there was no trace of a wound. Her brain was on overdrive.

"What has happened? What has hit me?" she thought.

"Welcome," a booming voice said slowly.

She looked up and held her breath, her eyes open wide in terror. At once, she lowered her head instinctively.

"You know, you don't have to start again." the voice said.

A few seconds later, it continued: "The breathing. It's just a reflex, but it's not necessary anymore."

She took a moment to mentally brace herself and ponder this announcement. A strange feeling crept through her. Something was off. She'd been training her body and senses for most of her life, so she knew how to read the signs. But now, everything felt - for the lack of a better word - dull, dampened. The touch of the cobbles below her wasn't feeling right, her muscles didn't feel right. She felt like having drunk too much and waking up after only an hour of sleep. Then she realized that every piece of clothing she'd been wearing was gone.

"Fuck! I'm naked!" she thought, adding a rising panic to her confusion. She felt her heartbeat in her throat.

She raised her head and looked at the speaker again. Slowly, hoping her mind had played tricks on her the first time, she'd glanced. She was disappointed: A creature at least twice as large as a human was sitting on a stone throne. It had a very muscular body, twin horns, and... hooves. The skin was a dark red. She didn't need much imagination to conclude who she was talking to.

"Am I... dead?" she asked sheepishly.

"Well, usually a spear through the breast does that to a human, doesn't it?"

"Damn! But why am I here? And more important: where is here?"

"You're not the brightest candle on the cake, are you? You weren't exactly the kind of person they welcome up there..." A finger with a nail that could easily slit a throat pointed upward.

"Anyway, here's the deal. You've proven resourceful and ruthless, so you might be of some interest to me. You can either work for me, or you'll go to hell like all the others."

She smelled a rat. Suspiciously, she asked, "What would I be doing for you?"

"You are either very stupid or incredibly clever! If I offer a deal, I'm used to the answer 'Yes, master. Thank you for the offer! Of course, I accept!' But I'll play along. I'd have to tell you what to do anyway."

"Hell is run by minions. While everybody not meeting the standards from up there becomes our guest," again the finger pointed upwards, "there are those with special 'abilities' - they have lived in constant sin, have committed particularly bad crimes, etc. They are offered to become minions - you could say wardens for our guests. If they accept, they fight for us, they protect us against the outside, and they succumb to my will. In return, they are not tortured eternally - at least not constantly. Depending on how well they perform, they can have quite a nice death here."

"To recruit more minions, I've created the Succubi - one could describe them as a kind of task force helping potentials to do their worst, to make sure they become minion material after their death. To ease the job of the Succubi, they are equipped with special abilities and distinct seductive properties."

"Should you - at any point - find it in your heart to accept my offer," he made an impatient rolling-forward gesture with his hand, indicating both, the stupidity in not accepting at once and his annoyance. "You'd become one of the Succubi. Your body would be enhanced to utmost beauty for maximum seductive power, you'd get some magical abilities, and you'd be free to follow your own will as long as you'd keep my interests in mind and perform well. Occasionally, I'd have one or the other chore for you to perform, but that's more or less all about it."

"Wait a minute! What kind of chores are we talking about?"

His face twisted in annoyance; shaking his head, he answered, "Pah, you know..., kill somebody who is getting on my nerves, hunt down minions or other Succubi fallen from grace, satisfy my sexual thirst."

She had noticed that he had taken extra care to utter the last part about the sexual thirst quickly and inconspicuously. Her brow raised.

"You suggest that I'd have to be at your service for the rest of eternity. I'd have to let you fuck me with... that?" she pointed in the general direction of a dick that was about the size of a horse's one.

"Not exactly. I have hundreds of Succubi, so I'd not ask you to be of sexual service all the time, but I insist on the right to do so. After all, you'd be designed to seduce - even I can't help falling for you from time to time. Mostly I ask my Succubi if they are interested before taking them. But you'd be at my service concerning my wishes towards your main task. Should you - at any time - decide otherwise or perform below certain limits, you'd be sent to hell as a guest like all the others."

She pondered the thought for a moment, then she replied, "Well, you had me with the 'hunt down potentials for me' part. I see occasionally getting fucked by you as a bonus. You seem well-equipped to satisfy even a demon specifically built for sex. I'm in."

"Great! Drenvynia, welcome to our ranks," he said.

"But my name's Aithne," she contradicted.

"Not anymore, my dear. Not anymore."

~~~~~ Four ~~~~~

Long Preparations

January 1999 / Eugene, Oregon, a farmhouse just outside town

~~~~~

Before I called the police, I made sure, no traces of the otherworldly part of what happened were to be found.

They arrived in full ceremony: sirens, flashing lights, and of course, only minutes later: the press arrived, too.

They'd examined the crime scene. Fingerprints and photos were taken. They talked a long time to me - obviously, I didn't mention what really happened and told them I had been asleep and had found my parents when I had woken up by strange noises.

Later, they concluded, that my parents had engaged in a strange sex game, my father accidentally choking her to death. Realizing what he had done, he'd taken his own life.

On one hand, I was very upset, that the police's work didn't bring the least bit of justice, but on the other hand, I knew that it couldn't have. Had I told them the truth, I'd be spending a very long time in a psychiatric ward. And I had better things to do.

My parents had left me quite a decent fortune, so I didn't have to worry about money a lot. I worked part-time in various jobs to keep up a front for the neighbors, but most of my time, I studied.

It was a fascinating ride. The book I had found turned out to be an heirloom from my father's ancestors. It dated back to medieval times and to Western Europe: Obviously, my father's forefathers had been druids in France. At the pinnacle of the witch-hunts, the church in Europe had turned on everything only slightly mystical, and they had found themselves being forced to leave. Crossing the Atlantic, they had migrated to the new continent.

I used ancestral databases to reconstruct where my origin lay. On a flipboard in my room, I had drawn a family tree, ranging back to 1630, when my father's forefathers had reached America. It still had some blind spots, but most of it was complete. Occasionally, I still had to fight the tears, when I read my parent's entries: "Peter Warren" and "Melissa Warren". The only entry on the board not having a death date was mine: "Jack Warren".

--

I was a lonely guy. While the people around me went to parties, engaged in sports, and the such, I kept to my books and studies. I found, I had a really hard time trusting anybody and didn't like to meet people in person.

Keeping in shape, I ate healthily, and exercised a little bit - but my life had only one focus: Revenge on the demon.

I kept the memory vivid. Replaying the events of that evening in my mind again and again. I didn't allow them to fade. I made them stay. Crystal clear, firing my red-hot rage.

--

The book was the only anchor to that other plane. Heaven? Hell? I had never bothered to think about them, let alone believe in them. But the book told otherwise. It claimed, there were both. And Hell was influencing the world of the living all the time. Based on the information in the book, I pieced together the lore I found elsewhere - in libraries, on the internet.

I found that certain people had special abilities. Wizards, witches, druids, and more - they were real. Of course, a lot about them was made up, but basically, Magic existed. I found the negative parts of lore - witches are evil and the such - to be mostly made up by the powerful beings of that time, and specifically by the church. The thought of somebody having special abilities without being under their control seemed not to have arrived very well with them. The general thought was: if you can't control it, demonize it or - even better - kill it.

This is how I found out, that I was a druid. At first, I felt stupid. Then I tried some of the simplest 'spells' I found in the book. And found them to work. It took me days to cast a spell that would cool down the water in a glass by two degrees, but to my amazement, eventually it worked.

For me, the book was some kind of dictionary, and every page in it led to tens of thousands of pages in other sources I had to explore. It took me years to learn what it taught.

~~~~~ Five ~~~~~

A Succubus' Deed

May 1879 / A saloon near Raton Pass, Colorado

~~~~~

Bat Masterson was a young cowboy. His 25 years had seen him as a successful gambler, buffalo hunter, and sheriff. It was afternoon and the sun was burning mercilessly.

The saloon was the only place to be; a cold beer everything he needed. At least that's what he had thought up to the moment when a young beauty about his age entered through the swing doors. She was dressed like a man, and that alone would have been a sensation. Additionally, she was the most beautiful woman, he'd ever seen. She had a muscular body, her shirt couldn't hide a pair of fabulous boobs, and she had the general air of attractive determination. Her face in contrast was sheer beauty. Full lips, an inviting smile, and green eyes a man could drown in. Her hair was a fiery red and went endlessly down her back; she had tied it together in a plaid.

She looked around the otherwise empty saloon; her eyes rested for a second on him, then she headed for the bar. Knocking on the counter, she nodded at the barkeeper: "Get me a whiskey, please, I'm dried out."

"Sure, lady," he replied and started to rummage around.

Bat got up, took his beer, and walked over to the bar. He stood next to her, casually saying, "What does a beauty like you do so far from civilization?"

She looked at him in mocked amusement. "Listen to bad pick-up lines from strangers?"

He laughed out loud, while the barkeeper carefully tried to hide his amusement. "I have to admit, you're one of a kind!" Bat said.

"Well, a woman's got to know what she wants in this world. I've been traveling for weeks and right now, I could use a proper riding-in in this new town, if you know what I mean. Are there any cowboys around who'd be up for the task?"