As the sun rose Chandri landed on the roof of her home in Cherryfield. The morning sun would bring the village workers out. Fishermen, hunters, and artisans would be starting their day. She surrounded herself with her large, leathery wings like a cloak as she dropped into her backyard. Her long blond hair darkened coal black as she entered her back door, locking it behind her. Frantically Chandri dug through her cloths for something fit for travel. She threw a pair of thicker, baggy pants on her table and frantically stuffer her head into a blue wool shirt.
"Fuck fuck fuck!" Chandri chided as the shirt clung to her horns. She took a deep breath, and slowly released to calm herself. The night had not gone as planned. She had led half the villagers of Cherryfield to Foreston for the ritual. A celebration to Myria, the sleeping goddess. She had done so dozens of times in the years she spent living in Cherryfield, slowly stealing the souls of the quaint village during one night of mischief and debauchery, an celebration of the fertility and harvest aspects of Myrian worship.
"Why did tonight, of all night, have to be the night the celebration was discovered by adventurers?" she thought scornfully. Chandri concentrated, and the horns that topped her head withdrew effortlessly into her body. She pulled her shirt over her head, and turned to her mirror. She checked the shirt for holes, then snatched her pants and hastily pulled them on. Soon followed long socks, and boots.
She stared at her boots for moment, and disappointment panged in her heart. Chandri remembered when she got this boots. She spent nearly four years living in Cherryfield, working as an herbalist. She tended the wounds and ailments of the town as best she could with poultices and potions, and what she couldn't, well... it was a simple thing for a succubus of Chandri's age to mend a the common wounds of townsfolk. She delighted in it sometimes. The boots were a gift from a local carpenter, a gruff man entering the later years of his life. They were given to her as a symbol of admiration, and the carpenter taught her how to care for them as well, to make them last. He was her first victim. She almost regretted taking his soul in the throes of passion. Almost.
Regardless of how fond Chandri became of the town, she knew she couldn't stay. The adventurers had slain all but one of her congregation. All but Keveth. She would see to it the traitorous fisherman got his. The adulterous fisherman. The coward. She already possessed a portion of his soul, he would not stay hidden from her. Chandri tore through the rest of her house thoroughly, taking everything she thought she would need for her trip.
"The adventurers came from the south," she thought to herself. She had heard them speaking, before the violence started. Half of the adventurers joined in on their fun, losing themselves to the primal beat of her thralls' music. Sampling from their feast, imbibing their scared ale. Once the orgy had started, two of them threw their inhibitions to the wind. A human who joined the band, and the draconic one. Burntscale Ashwyrm. He came eagerly to her, the first to offer his virility as tribute to Myria. As the villagers canvased herself and Burntscale with the sacred oils, she could feel the heat from his life force, and was impressed with the size of his cock. She had never had one of the dragonblooded as a lover, she was unsure what awakened her desire more if she were to be honest with herself. As their bodies writhed in passion, his mind was lost to her. His knowledge slipped into her with every great thrust of his thickness into her, enhancing her own delight. When he released his seed into her, he released his very essence. She fed on his spirit and he was no more.
"That's where it all went wrong... I shouldn't have been so bold," she thought as she stared into her mirror. With another deep breath her breasts shrunk from a bounty to a handful, and her skin darkened to a tone of sweet milk chocolate. Chandri pulled her pack on her shoulders, grabbed her walking stick, and left again out of the back door. She placed one last spell on her door, to summon hellfire to engulf her cottage once she was far enough away. She lept over her fence, and made her way down the road. It would be a long walk to this... Estival City. She knew the way however, Burntscale had shown her. Burntscale and the gnome... Bidli. As Cherryfield disappeared behind her she released a haughty chuckle. She would see these adventurers pay. If it was unsafe for her in the town that she had made home, if her friends would lay dead in an abandoned villages square, then they would not know fame. They would not know glory, or wealth. They would not know peace.
It was midday before Chandri reached Foreston again. She followed the main road to the town square, where the slaughter had taken place. The adventurer's seemed to have moved on. Two graves were dug for their fallen, but her friends were left to rot in the daylight. Chandri felt hatred boil in the pit of her stomach. Chandri walked up to the body of one of her followers, propped up against the statue of Myria. When she moved to Cherryfield she had taken a form similar to her goddess. Wide hips, buxom chest, flowing blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes with a warm smile. A smile, she thought, like a mother greeting her children who had been gone for so long. Now the only smile she could muster was one filled with bitterness. She cradled the man's head close to her chest, and ran her hand down the deep gash that cut him from shoulder to groin. As she did so, green flames crackled in her palm, sealing the wound.
She knew the boy well. Joresh, the butcher's son. She knew he had a crush on her while she masqueraded as an herbalist. He would pretend to have maladies if only to spend a few moments with her. He always brought her a slice of pie when his mother had finished the baking. Joresh had eagerly taken to worshipping her goddess, on more than one occasion declaring that Chandri was a spitting image of Myria. You must be truly blessed, he would say, that a goddess should choose to look like you. Joresh was a sweet boy, naïve. She had, on previous nights, avoided being intimate with him. She knew that if she did... he was too young to resist her. Once he had tasted her, either his own boyish crush or her infernal nature would have ensnared him. She knew she would enjoy the vibrant, candied taste of his soul but she knew she would feel guilt for doing so.
Now, now the butcher's son lay dead in her arms. She couldn't control her hunger, it had been so long since she had feasted on a soul in its entirety. Too long had she allowed nibbles to sustain her, because she foolishly fell in love with a podunk town. She laid Joresh down, and began moving nearby bodies together. They may have met their end because of her, but she do right by them in death.
As she struggled to lift Samantha, the town's seamstress over shoulder she heard a crash. From a nearby alleyway a man emerged clumsily.
"H..hey there!" he shouted, his voice unsteady. He stumbled toward her, a bottle of wine in his hand.
"Keveth," Chandri thought. Her eyes flared in fury. Keveth hiccupped, as he stumbled closer up to her. Tears streamed uncontrolled down his face, and he dropped his bottle. He attempted to wrap his arms around Chandri, who shoved him off. She knew she couldn't keep holding the seamstress if he grabbed her. Keveth landed on his ass, and laughed. It was a warm laugh, of relief. His relief would be short lived, she thought to herself.
"I'm so glad... I'm so glad someone stopped! There was a horrible battle here last night," Keveth breathed deep and attempted to stymie his tears before continuing, "Every... my neighbors.. my friends..." Keveth couldn't contain himself.
"Oh god they are all dead... I... I killed two of them myself... I had to," he weeped, "or they would have killed me to! I have a child, I had to live!" he shouted, begging for absolution. It was clear that after the adventurers had left he drowned himself in a bottle. A combination of guilt, and sorrow kept him tethered to this tragedy hours after safety left.
"It's okay Keveth," Chandri stated icily. "You will be forgiven."
