Succubus Inquisition

A special thanks to JonB1969 for his editing. Hope you all enjoy my story and remember to vote and comment, it's what encourages me to keep writing.

This Story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Yshomatsu

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this story or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. The following is meant for Adults only, if you are under the age of 18 leave now.

The dark underground compound smelt of mold and dust. The place hadn't been properly cleaned ever since the succubus had been summoned. The moment the demon entered the world, her pheromones drove Yshomatsu mad with lust. The orange furred kitsune that had once been an innocent yet mischievous woman was left behind to keep him occupied. Bree had done just that. And after unknowingly helping the demon break free, she became another victim to the succubus.

Over time, and after lots of sex, her new kitsune's body was gaining power, and the side effect of gaining power was regaining her free will. Between her body's unnatural need for sex she spent her time reading from Ysho's vast library. She learned all kinds of important information about her new form, and the succubus. It took a while before her mind quit being forced to picture the demon during sex. Each new tail helped her mind's recovery, but it was clear it would take the monk much longer.

Then the images started coming in from the succubus' current exploits. A whole village being consumed in a massive orgy, and all for the creation of a new being. This time another succubus, instead of one like her. Bree had been human before but was changed. This new woman was created by the combined souls of the village. It all scared her, and the thoughts of her world being threatened by this evil demoness fueled her rebellion.

The orange furred kitsune rushed out of the library without closing the book she had been reading. She knew the monk wasn't able to think for himself yet, but she had to act. She hurried into the room they had stayed in for who knew how long now. The monk was curled up with all their covers, his body no doubt exhausted from their nonstop sex. She bent down next to him and lightly shook his shoulder.

Ysho groaned and rolled over. Men... Why were they always so hard to wake up? A light kiss had always been enough to wake her up. She shook him a little harder.

"We need to go hun, please wake up." He wasn't budging so she rolled him onto his back and already regretted what she was about to do.

A light tap between the legs felt worse than a punch to the gut. She grimaced as he reacted, hunching up, grabbing his assaulted privates. When he looked at her with groggy, sleepy eyes filled with pain, she almost cried.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you! We need to go." Tears filled her eyes and threatened to flow.

"Go?"

"Yes, go, unless you'd rather be a slave to the demon's desires for the rest of your life."

A slight smile formed on his lips as her image formed on his mind. He hardly went a moment without thinking about her. It wasn't like he had a choice. Anytime he tried to think or get horny she'd pop in there. It had been the same for Bree for quite some time. Slowly her free will returned and it disgusted her, knowing how easily they fell prey to the demoness.

The monk's body quickly recovered from the light tap that hurt way more than it should have. Countless times before they had spent hours upon hours satisfying each other's needs. But not this time. She wouldn't allow them to spend another night here. Or was it daytime? It was so hard to tell time underground.

"No baby, there's no time for that, we're leaving."

He looked disappointed, but before he could protest, she added, "Once we're far from here we'll fuck for days!"

The monk got excited and all of a sudden was eager to leave.

Bree couldn't wait until he could think for himself again. She only hoped that once he could, that he'd choose her over the demon. She had grown quite fond of him before all this had happened, and looked forward to the future. In order to have a future someone had to deal with the demon but worrying about that now wouldn't help anyone. First she had to help Yshomatsu get that demon spawn's influence off his mind.

From the images in her mind the succubus was heading northeast so Bree would head south. Far far away from the demon and hopefully enough to escape her influence. She heard many stories of the dangerous wildlife in that part of the world. It was a good thing she learned some defensive spells from the monk's library.

*****

Athanatos woke up with the most painful headache he ever felt in his life. Then again, he never had a huge boulder bring the entire building down on top of him before. After climbing free of a pile of rubble he reached up to inspect his aching head. To his disbelief, the hand came down free of blood. Having felt a few cuts he imagined how he looked, with golden hair stained with dried blood, a zombified appearance with a hungry looking body. He had been out cold for who knew how long, days it felt like. His stomach growled.

A quick glance around the room revealed a grotesque sight, a giant boulder embedded in the ground, right where his bed used to be. The walls remained standing, although barely, and the ceiling had collapsed as the boulder plummeted through the building, bringing all the debris down with it. Everything left standing creaked and made other threatening sounds, a warning of their eventual down fall. He reached down and retrieved his dirty but otherwise undamaged traveling pack and made for the exit, hoping everyone else was ok.

A slight touch to his door and the wood shattered, falling to the ground in pieces. Athan spared one last look back, and sorrow filled his heart. So many years had been spent in the now ruined room. He carefully made his way through the halls. The once great home to the monks for generations was a disaster area. Artifacts and many forms of artwork were scattered around, beyond repair. The hallway opened up into what was once the grand library, and what he saw mortified him beyond belief.

Dozens of his brothers were lying on the ground, dead. His heart beat faster as he panicked.

Never before had he been witness to so many of his brothers lying lifeless upon the ground. Without any concern of the building falling, he dashed between bodies, remembering each face as memories of flashed behind his eyes. Before long he realized what he was doing. He was searching, beyond all hope, to find one live body amongst the dead.

Elpis, a young man--- man, his heart sank; he was just a boy--- Athan had bonded with over the past few months. He was new to the Order and desperately wanted to learn all he could. The boy had started to hang around Athan, who had quickly befriended him. He even had helped Athan with his search for answers on the disappearance of many monks, not to mention sparring with Athan. He was a fast learner and his skills were proof of it.

The boy wasn't in the library. Athan allowed himself to briefly hope to find him alive, and with that he raced to the Elder's chamber. He raced through the ruined building, checking every room along the way. With each passing second the risk increased that the monastery would collapse on top of him, but he didn't care. He had to know if Elpis was still inside, dead or alive.

Every single body Athan came across he stopped to check. It hurt more than any physical wound he ever received in his long life, like someone was taking a red hot poker to his soul. The Elder's room was just ahead. A few more paces.

Something let out an unearthly squeal; it sent a shiver up his spine.

Athan had to force himself to take another step. Something about that sound was so familiar. Once he approached the door, he peeked inside. Greenish mist or fog covered the floor. Now he was certain the sound wasn't from this earth.

A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Whatever it was, it jumped out the window before he could get a clear look. But what he saw, he would never forget. Long smooth legs, a slithering tail and two leathery wings.

Whatever it had been, it was long gone before he got to the window and the mist began to part. Maybe from his sprint through the room or perhaps because the creature had departed the area. As he turned back towards the room he was devastated. There in the center of the room was Elpis, his body dried up as if it had been decomposing for a decade. What worried Athan most, however, was the wide smile upon the boy's dried-up face, as if he had experienced the best moment of his life.

Athan dropped to his knees, covered his face in his hands, and cried. Questions filled his head as to what brought all this destruction to his home. The monks had always kept the balance between good and evil. Something horrible must have woken up -- or been unleashed upon the world.

Off to the side, a sound interrupted his mournful thoughts. Coughing, Athan turned to look and found Elder Zoticus leaning against the wall, with a two by two sticking out of his gut. His eyes were glazed over with a smirk on his lips. He was softly saying a phrase repeatedly but Athan couldn't understand it. He leaned closer while eying his leader's painful and mortal wound.

"Beautiful... beautiful..." Over and over he repeated it, not acknowledging Athan's presence at all, as he slowly faded away with his last breath. Athan closed the old man's eyes and moved to get up, his feet brushed up against an object. A quick glance down and he recognized the Elder's ritual tattoo device that was used to imprint a monk's life story on their body for the afterlife.

The next hour Athan had shaved his golden hair, and, with the aid of the very blade he shaved with, cut a tattoo on his head, in the monk's sacred language. Each passing minute the building crumbled further, but he was determined to finish the final act of farewell to all those he knew and loved. The tattoo device hurt but he embraced the pain, for it numbed the ache in his soul.

"I will remember," was all it said.

Athan mourned in silence, stood up and wiped the blood from his scalp, relishing the pain as it stung like an insect sting amplified by a thousand. A single tear escaped his eye and descended down his cheek. The world, as he knew it, was gone.

The moment he thought that, the building shook. He decided he had lingered long enough.

Quickly he bolted for the open window and soared through the air as graceful as a bird, until he rolled in the soft grass, using the momentum to rise to his feet and spin around. Forever he would remember this horrible moment in time as he watched his beloved home crumble to a million pieces upon the earth. His brothers at least rested in the ground.

Hardly a proper burial, but it would suffice.

Once the dust settled, he became aware the entire valley was covered in thick fog, just like inside the Elder's chamber, yet ten times thicker. Off in the distance he could hear shouting and screaming. Clearly whatever the men in armor brought with them had turned on them. Athan felt pride rise in him and immediately dismissed it. Revenge was sweet, but deep down he knew there was no reason for it. Something had upset the balance, and Athanatos would do everything in his power to set it right.

The screams faded slowly, as if they were being dragged away. A chill went up his spine as he imagined the creature, those wings and tail. There was this feeling of familiarity that he couldn't place, yet couldn't let go either. As the screams faded, so too did the fog or mist. Athan wasn't sure which it was or if it even mattered.

A silent prayer was sent to his family, all those fallen brothers he would miss more than anything in the world. Sitting upon the ground, he planned his next move while meditating, in an attempt to calm his mind. The last thing he needed was to make a rash decision because he was upset and sad, mourning the loss of so many. He closed his eyes and straightened his back, the traveling pack settled uncomfortably against his spine. So much had happened he completely forgot he had it.

With each breath he tuned out the world around him. All the pain he felt, both physical and mental, faded from thought. Everything became crystal clear. All leads pointed to Yshomatsu.

Athan's old mentor had been tasked with finding the missing monks. The armored Horadric warriors had come to the monastery seeking him; even the Order's Elder had asked Athan to find out what had happened to his old friend. And that was what he packed for. His path was clear. It was time to traverse the desert once again, after so many years. Once his meditation was complete, he would get to the bottom of everything. He planned to set it all right, to restore the balance.

As he got to his feet and stretched, he noticed all his cuts and bruises were healed, even his fresh tattoo was completely healed. Athan turned towards the setting sun in the west and headed off towards the desert. Unbeknownst to the monk, two figures had been watching him meditate and were now following him. One of the shadowy figures were limping, while hanging onto the other for support.

*****

Blake and Plymouth sat amongst the ruins, beaten and bloody, yet thankful to be alive. Plymouth dragged Sir Blake slowly out of the monastery's service exit, the two bonded on a deep level after their brief battle with the monks. The first monk the knight met had been extremely powerful. The monks at this now ruined monastery had fought bravely, yet even with their masterful training they didn't compare to the one with the glowing eyes.

Blake questioned whether it had been wise coming here, at the cost of so many lives. As the building collapsed the two became aware of one lone monk standing on the opposite side. They sat there and watched him, too exhausted to do anything else. They were too far away to see details but it was clear the monk was sad, as any sane person would be after losing so many. The three men had that in common. Before long the monk sat down with his hands upon his knees, palms up.

The sun began to set as the monk finally rose to his feet and set off towards the setting sun. Plymouth began to rise, knowing what the Knight was going to say before he even spoke.

"We need to follow him. He'll lead us to the one I'm after."

Plymouth expressed his doubts, even as he helped Blake to his feet and began walking in the monk's direction. "Do you think that's really wise? We came here with an army. What good did that do? Look around you. Everyone's gone. And what was that green shit earlier?"

"Whatever it was or whatever happened to the men, it'll have been all in vain if we don't find that one monk and put an end to it. That man didn't seem to know anything when questioned, but the old monk did. If we're lucky the young one will be on our side. I feel horrible about what happened here, but clearly someone was practicing the black arts. You saw whatever that, as you put it, green shit was."

A few hours passed as they slowly progressed west, clearly towards the desert, and it almost seemed like the monk knew they were following because he took his time. Plymouth expressed his discomfort again. They had arrived with an army, and failed. What could two men possibly do alone, especially with Blake's wounds? They had stopped bleeding but otherwise still remained.

The black haired knight shared his friend's doubts, but was convinced the person responsible for the black magic horror show needed to be stopped. And if they didn't do it, who would? Blake had to at least try. The way that one monk reacted--- What did the old man call him, Athanatos--- made him believe they knew who Blake was after. At the same time that reaction of pure worry for a friend had him second guessing the theory that all monks were evil worshipers. Perhaps that one had just been a bad apple, or perhaps he was reading too much into it. Evil beings still had feelings and felt fear, worry and possibly love.

On the other hand, it could all be a big misunderstanding, and some other being was to blame. The monks could have been allies all along. If that turned out to be the case, he had blood on his hands to repent for. Everything would be decided in the end, or he would die trying to find out.

The climate change from grassy valley to desert was noticeable, but it wasn't sudden. The grass gradually stopped growing until there were only small patches of it sporadically around. Yet the air gave way to the coming day, steadily rising in temperature. It had been a chilly uneventful night of traveling west, following the young monk's trail. Off on the horizon behind them, a beautiful array of colors formed as if an artist was creating their masterpiece.

Plymouth pointed ahead and they witnessed the monk entering the desert dunes, now clearly visible with the morning sunrise.

"Is he insane? Entering the dunes just as the sun is rising? The heat alone will be the death of him."

"He's determined to find the one I seek. We must not lose him," Sir Blake responded, knowing full well that traveling in the coming heat was the worst idea, suicidal.

For two days they pressed on. Their armor had been stripped down to the bare minimum, and any loose clothing was torn and wrapped around their heads, yet the heat was still getting to them. Athanatos had gained quite a lead, as if this was nothing more than a hike on a cool breezy day. The men of the Horadric Legion pressed on, even though their water had run out and their bodies sweat so much it felt like burning salt was pouring into their eyes.

Plymouth's back was sore from supporting his companion for so long. Without time to rest, Sir Blake was becoming worse, rather than recovering. Large buzzards circled overhead, waiting for the two large pieces of meat to drop dead.

In every direction there were giant sand dunes as far as the eye could see. The two of them would have been lost if it wasn't for the monk ahead of them. Hell maybe they were lost; the monk was nothing more than a mirage upon the far horizon, it could have been their imagination, a hallucination caused by the hot sun melting their brains.

Just when all hope seemed lost, Plymouth spotted something. His heart filled with hope and he rushed forward, absentmindedly dropping Blake to the ground. A moment later and his prayers were answered. It was indeed food and water, in the middle of nowhere.

There was only one explanation; the monk who obviously knew they were following him had left it for them. Perhaps Sir Blake's worst fears were wrong after all, and the young monk was an ally, possibly even a friend. Why else would he leave them food and water when they needed it most? Another hour without it and they would have surely perished.

It wasn't a meal for the gods, but at that moment, to the two tired and hungry men, it sure felt like it. They were so distracted by the meal that neither one of them noticed the creatures born to the desert closing in on them.

Lost in thought, Plymouth was startled as a heavy breeze blew by his face, a buzzard swung in close, testing their resolve. It circled around for another pass. He was ready this time, pulling his sword from its sheath and stood at the ready.

Sir Blake remained on the ground, eating the remaining food, too exhausted and weak to be of any use in the fight for their lives. His spirit didn't want to give up, but his body had the opposite reaction, its need for food and water more urgent. There was only one thing his body needed most now, and that was rest, it had had enough. Darkness overcame him as he slumped backwards into the sand.