For the life of him, Roland did not know what had possessed him to stray so far from the cities: seeking work in this backwater hamlet, a day's travel from the nearest city and with a smell that reminded him of rotting custard. He stared impassively at the increasingly hysterical town Reeve, who gestured and gesticulated to him in comically humorous ways the world-shattering plight his collection of hovels and gap-toothed villagers were in, shifting his groin with a mailed hand and adjusting his long dagger in and out of its scabbard habitually.
"So whats the skinny, then?" He said, wiping a streak of his ginger-red hair out of his face as he sweated in the midday sun. "You've gabbed on for a good ten minutes now, and I ain't heard word one of your actual troubles. Single sentence: what do you need?"
"We...!" The Reeve paused to take in a breath, the mousy fellow clearly out of his element in conversing with a mercenary. "We need you to slay a monster, good sir."
"Aye. So I gathered." Roland spat upon the dirt track on which they stood, heedless of aim or direction. "What, who, where, And how much you payin'?"
"Well, the local lord, Sir Beaubran hasn't been back in-" The Reeve began before the armored warrior held up a hand, silencing him.
"I didn't ask who was not helping you, nor why you feel so desperate as to stoop to me." The large man said, fixing the Reeve with a long look with his weather-worn face. "I'll kill whatever you're seeking faster'n any prissy lord with a fancy bit of heraldry; I wanna know what I'm killin', who I need to talk to ta find 'em, where they are so I can kill em, and
how much you're payin
'
me
."
"Well, I..." The Reeve stuttered, shivering in his stance, terrified of Roland's imposing stature. "We don't rightly know
what
it is. It's been preying on the folk living out in the outskirts, men mostly. It completely ignores the livestock but folks keep disappearing for days at a time. When they return, they wander out of the forest with no clothes and no memory of what's happened. The townsfolk are whispering it's some sort of Witch."
"Demon, sounds more like." Roland said, cracking his neck from a creak that built there. "Probably a Succubus, if I had to guess. Omnibus would take both genders equally, though the womenfolk would come back with bellies fit to burst, and they're a whole lot scarier in the strength department. Most likely: you got a small demon infestation."
"What do we do?" The Reeve asked, clearly out of his element.
"Pay me." Roland replied, "Sixty gold coins. Real gold, none of that transmuted rubbish the Arjal Wizards are always handing out. You and your town get it together, and I'll hunt down your demon problem."
"But... we're just poor-" The Reeve began.
"Save it." Roland replied, "If you want something bad enough, you'll pay. When I come out of those woods I expect sixty gold coins in a purse, or there'll be more trouble for you than just a horny whore with horns, yeah?"
The next three days were an annoying state of rough-country tracking. The forests around the hamlet were deep and thick, and every branch and bush seemed to be meshed together into one gigantic plant like entity, seemingly intent on preventing Roland passage. Undeterred, the veteran followed the trail of fresh footprints, noticing with disdain that they were all men; just a bunch of gullible locals, pouring into the waiting gullet of the beast.
He camped in the hollows of rotted trees, the slow corruption of the Succubus turning the general area into a place of malaise and defilement. The branches of the oaks hung low, colored black despite their bark being a natural brown; leaves and twigs were spiky and sickly looking, and the forest floor was populated with far less grass the closer Roland got to his quarry. As he huddled in the cavity of the wood, he mused to himself in half-conscious thoughts.
The beast was not taking great pains to hide itself, despite the remote location of its lair. Usually their kind tries to infiltrate towns and cities, hide in plain sight. This one must be young, inexperienced, or gunshy; perhaps having been driven out of the territory of a stronger competitor, or even its own "parent." Demons were notoriously dispassionate about their own offspring, outside of the simple depravity to be gained from mating with them. Once they had served their purpose, or grew bored with them, they forced them off into the unknown to seek their own hunting grounds.The choice in victims was curious as well: the lone advantage being inexperienced and unsuspecting townsfolk. However, unlike a major city, crimes and disturbances were much more likely to be noticed, thus once an appropriate response was prepared, there was more danger of an active and overwhelming response. Strange.
Roland's suspicions were confirmed when he found the ultimate source of the corruption: a cave, set on a hillock deep within the forests. The front ot the cave was not even mildly covered or concealed, and he walked through with the kind of blithe indifference that came from decades of warfare and mercenary work.
Deep within the winding tunnels he could hear the sounds of carnal entrapment: moans, cries, and the loud
schlick