This tale began in taverns along muddy routes through the Revenant Forest, and quite possibly began from Taraduin's own telling. No one knows for certain whether or not such a tale is true, but there had been such an incubus as that which matched the description in the story. It's nigh impossible to tell whether the demon bloke is still alive... elusive creatures are they. But, alas, I'm getting ahead of myself. I am the scribe of the people, and their tales must I tell to the best of my understanding.
Out of all the various versions, I have gleaned a fair understanding of the events of one whilom evening, some score seasons gone. Firstly, there was an incubus. Some named him Scryn, some called him Ferarok. Only one poor frightened lass ever knew the daemon's true moniker... and survived.
For the sake of the tale, we'll refer to him as I first was told: Lupaer Grenaan. In an ancient, tribal tongue from the great old forest fairens, it means "Beast with Hunger Eternal." That should give you an idea as to the lifespan of these creatures. He may well have seen several centuries pass before that one night, when he stole the dear virgin Noceres from her noble bed.
Her name remains the same in all versions, because she was a child of some renown. Daughter to the pious leader of the Krem folken of the Glass Mountains, Noceres was only one hundred and seven; barely feeling the blush of her womanhood.
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Noceres drew the curtains aside to gaze upon the full moon. Her pale hair fell like feathersilk upon her creamy shoulders, and blew lightly in the evening breeze. Her thin nightgarment rippled against her small and perfectly rounded bosom, prickling her skin with gooseflesh.
The castle of the Krem is fashioned from the white mineral found most prevalently in the Glass Mountains, lunorim. Her walls always glowed softly, just like the splendid moon she gazed upon. She sighed deeply, somewhat longingly. She wished dearly to be allowed to roam the castle grounds... She dreamed of running swiftly through the pale forest which surrounded their impenetrable walls. And, as the full moon often does, it sent her into wild fancy. She burned deep within for something that evaded thought. As the girl was kept innocent of all carnal things, she never knew the word "desire." She only felt restlessness, and knew not why.
Noceres fetched an airy sigh, and resigned herself to her white bed. Upon the wave of her slender hand, the luminescence of her chamber dimmed, and she continued to gaze at the moon. Just as her pale lids and ashen lashes began to flutter in a doze, a black, winged shadow sprung before the celestial disc. Her eyes widened instantly, and she gasped to scream. A great paw enveloped her tender mouth before she could scarcely squeak.
Lupaer, of legend, never took more seductive forms as his kinfolk oft were known to do. It is said he was very proud of his horrifying body, and I suppose in some lights he was not so very repulsive. He did have most of a fit, muscular man's body... but it was covered in dense, black fur. His head, hands and legs were that of a great wolf, and his great wings that of a raven. His eyes, most curious of all, were ever-changing colors like a child's wonderglass. His eyes were his very best attribute. Above the waist, that is.
It was his hypnotic gaze that caused the maiden's gasp to be exhaled in an awed whimper. Her slender body melted in tingling waves under his rough embrace. She burned more fiercely than she had under her very worst fever. Her quivering arms tried to push the daemon weakly away... She was simultaneously intrigued... and utterly terrified.
"These walls burn me..." the horror growled. Verily, thin tendrils of smoke rose from his wings. "We shall have to continue our night elsewhere, I fear."
Staring deeply into the poor, shuddering girl's tearful eyes, he grinned. "But... you don't want to return to your prison, do you?"
Her head slowly turned to one side, then the other, quite against her will.
Lupaer chuckled, and bore her away at once. Out the window, over the treetops. Her forsaken sheet drifted out the window after them, as if feebly beckoning them to come back.
The Magus Taraduin had been tracking the nightly progress of the daemon in question for some seasons, at the time of this tale. He had followed what he assumed was the incubus' familiar to an abandoned chateau on a hillside several wheels west of the Kremlands. Vineyards below ran wild with bitter fruit, and the forgotten bones of the caretaker still reached for the well bucket. The family, no doubt, still resided within, burnt to a crisp in the parlor. As the Magus bade his horse hasten through the grape vines, he watched the large black gryph land on the chateau's charred balcony. He hadn't gotten a very good look at the gryph, but he could tell by its flight it was a ratrook. Possibly the kind that can be taught speech and be made lookouts.
He dismounted as he neared the stables, leading his horse to a stall. He tethered the dapple mare, and pulled free his great staff. He may have been young at the time, but he was wary for his age. He had seen much in his travels, and this was not his first incubus intervention. He grinned to himself, spinning the staff cockily in one hand and flipping his hood over his ruddy locks with the other.
Lupaer had landed on the same balcony his familiar had moments before. After the ratrook had cawed the all-clear, he swept in and dropped the poor lass to the blackened marble with little regard. The poor thing was quite incapable of speech, and even less so of crying for help. She cringed against the doorway and awaited her death.
"I'm not going to kill you, saccharine angel." the daemon purred as he drew nigh. He took her blameless chin in one massive paw of a hand, and gazed with half-shuttered lids into her wide eyes. As the colors trickled one into the other deep in his tempting stare, her pupils dilated... and her frail body relaxed from its trembling tenseness. As he took her first kiss, the Magus had already entered the dwelling from below.
The ratrook had taken sentry on the great stairway before the chateau's main double-doors. Its beady rodent eyes flicked from one doorway to the next with a crow's hungry vigilance. He was a lover of carrion first, but fresh meat is also a delicacy to his ilk. His talons clutched the marble handrail greedily.
Noceres cried out as she was tossed onto a large bed. The sheets stank of old smoke and years of moths and mice. She crawled backward on her elbows, tears welling. The incubus sank one knee into the mattress, sliding a forepaw up the girl's silky inner thigh. She knew not to clamp her legs shut against his touch, and still knew not his motives. She only felt the wild blend of fear and reckless want.
With no effort, he flipped the maid onto her belly. He placed a powerful palm to her back, lifting her gown with one long dewclaw. He drank in her perfection, fetching a long, deep breath. He thrust apart her innocent legs, bowing his head for a taste of her delicate, dewy cleft. His rough attentions had caused her to seep forth pale honey... and his tongue made her gasp and jolt in shock. To her, it felt evil and wrong... and yet so wonderful. She buried her pallid face in a dingy pillow, simpering her very first sounds of pleasure.
Taraduin crept silently through the servant's door, leaving it ajar behind him. Only so many silencing spells could be cast before the ratrook might smell something amiss. Ratrooks were well-known for their ability to detect the scent of magik, and thus Taraduin's hands were somewhat tied. He would have to thwart the creature with guile alone... or surprise it.
He used a facet of the rough crystal on the end of his staff to spy the gryph from around a corner. He saw the profile of it's sharp beak, and drew back swiftly when its head turned his direction. It was much larger than any ratrook he'd seen. It was two thirds the height of a man, and quite plump. One should never doubt the swiftness of a paunchy predator; they only get to be that rotund one way. Fresh fat.
In the bedroom above this scene, Lupaer had pulled forth his most prized tool of misdeed, now swollen and pulsing lightly in the moonlight. He had positioned himself betwixt the milky thighs and pulled her delicate little rump upward, savoring the slick feel of her folds with his dark exposed tip... when a raucous cry of alarm came from the stairway. The incubus roared displeasure and leapt from the sheets, his phallus bobbing comically.
