[Writing] Tape's short stories - The Axeman Cometh (2014/06/03)

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Heh. A little scattered, if you ask me, but that fits Daryil anyway, I spose.

It's more of a slice of a story than a story in and of itself, though.

[Tapewolf]

It's more of a slice of a story than a story in and of itself, though.

My main beef with it was that it was a bit similar to the Simeon story, actually...

[Techcubi]

So, he used the rarely practiced art of turning Beings into Cubi, huh?

[Tapewolf]

So, he used the rarely practiced art of turning Beings into Cubi, huh?

Yes.  He could probably have done it less painfully, but he was in a hurry and besides, it was in many ways, a punishment.

[Techcubi]

So, is Zephyr a one-time only character?

[Tapewolf]

So, is Zephyr a one-time only character?

Probably, yes.

[Sprocketsdance]

Here I thought you had to kill off your (first?) female character minor, yes, but there.

Daryil is great, and Jakob's reaction to him is priceless! It ended very well.

[ChaosMageX]

So wait, did Daryil just perform the illegal and highly tabooed art of necromancy on that wolf succubus?

At first, when he was waking up, I thought that Daryil had instead transferred his soul into his victim, and his punishment would have been to spend the rest of his much longer life in her body.

Now that would have been morbidly funny.

But then again, why should I be telling you this, when I can write an even more darkly hilarious anecdote involving an enchanted soul-switching artifact.

Oh, and does this story take place before or after Daryil's...? (well, you know, FH Ch. 19)

[Tapewolf]

So wait, did Daryil just perform the illegal and highly tabooed art of necromancy on that wolf succubus?

Not as such.  With her brain skewered she wouldn't actually come back as a zombie anyway.  What he actually did was repair the tissue damage and bring her back to life.  This as opposed to reanimating her corpse as was done to Rancid,Hannah, RR3 etc.

Oh, and does this story take place before or after Daryil's...? (well, you know, FH Ch. 19)

After.  But it's only hinted at, for people who haven't read it.

[ChaosMageX]

So wait, did Daryil just perform the illegal and highly tabooed art of necromancy on that wolf succubus?

Not as such.  With her brain skewered she wouldn't actually come back as a zombie anyway.  What he actually did was repair the tissue damage and bring her back to life.  This as opposed to reanimating her corpse as was done to Rancid,Hannah, RR3 etc.

So, if he revived her by repairing the tissue damage, does that mean that her soul was desperately clinging to her body all that time or that Daryil had a way of capturing her soul before it went on to the hereafter and that's what he meant by "her soul cried out to me"?

Also, what exactly is a hovel or any living quarters in general doing in a shopping mall?  Or was that a homeless family using a niche in the mall as a place to sleep?

What was Daryil intending to do to that infant?
I mean, I know he wouldn't eat the soul or anything, but was he planning on inducing some kind of zany antics, like making the infant get up and sing and dance Ragtime, like in the movie Son of the Mask?

[Tapewolf]

So, if he revived her by repairing the tissue damage, does that mean that her soul was desperately clinging to her body all that time or that Daryil had a way of capturing her soul before it went on to the hereafter and that's what he meant by "her soul cried out to me"?

People who have died have been revived after about 5 minutes or so.  She was dead maybe 10 minutes.  The spell he was casting on her during the conversation was a stasis field to keep him from having to do even more complex tissue repair.

EDIT: He was able to sense her death, since clan members are somehow linked to that kind of leader.  (See Siar)

Also, what exactly is a hovel or any living quarters in general doing in a shopping mall?  Was that a family hobos?

Here's an example

[ChaosMageX]

Also, what exactly is a hovel or any living quarters in general doing in a shopping mall?  Was that a family hobos?

Here's an example

Oooooooooohhhh.  So that's what you meant.  So Daryil was going to play like he was devouring Jesus' soul?  Now that is blasphemously funny, especially considering Daryil's tendency to cosplay the guy.

[Tapewolf]

Oooooooooohhhh.  So that's what you meant.  So Daryil was going to play like he was devouring Jesus' soul?  Now that is blasphemously funny, especially considering Daryil's tendency to cosplay the guy.

Pretty much, yes.  Obviously he couldn't since it was made of plastic or porcelain or something.

Before anyone asks, Christ has been mentioned offhandedly in DMFA a few times - I'm assuming there are several faiths based around it.  Jakob, in his youth, belonged to a group who believed in a human Jesus (and that this was proof of divinity).

[Tapewolf]

For those of you who read Project Future, I was inspired to write a short story expanding on the battle of Dorcan's youth, specifically this:
http://www.project-future.org/stuff/things/DorcanFlashback_2-50.png

...for those of you who don't read it, I believe there should be enough explanation for it to make sense anyhow.  So I hope, anyway.

Be warned, this story is not all smiles and flowers by a long chalk.  Thanks to Ren and Keaton for mostly proof-reading it

Divine Judgement

Earlier versions of this spell had appeared as a floating globe.  This had created a number of problems - a glowing ball in the sky would panic most Beings, and even for the wiser and more magic-savvy - especially Creatures - it was a sure sign that they were under surveillance.
The spell Jefri had cast took the form of a feral common buzzard, making lazy circles above the village as though it was hunting for rabbits.  Meanwhile, Jefri - sitting in the forest - could see everything that went on below his bird.  He swore... it seemed that Harvis had screwed up.

Jefri, the kangaroo rat, sat cross-legged with his eyes tight shut as he rode the spell, steering the buzzard slightly to get a closer look at something.  His diminutive stature belied the fact that he was a fearsome warrior, veteran of numerous battles and a distinguished warrior in his clan.  When he had been picked to lead this crusade, he had felt honoured - but not entirely surprised.  There were four of them in the woods.  Alongside him, defending his prone form, were Donovan the stallion, Jervan the doe hare and Pirgis the hyrax.

Like the others, Jefri had two pairs of feathered wings, tan at the top and cream lower down.  There was a larger pair on his back, and a smaller pair on his head.  They were incubi and succubi of the Rhu'Hahn clan, shapeshifting demons with the power to read minds.  They were all dressed similarly, with gauntlets and boots of steel plate, but there the similarity ended and a haphazard collection of leggings and mismatched armour began.  Jefri and the others didn't need the swords at their sides, but they kept them anyway, if only as a symbol.  They were holy warriors, a beacon of light and hope against the encroaching darkness of Being-kind and their wicked allies.

The village was fortified, surrounded by a wooden stockade and with guards patrolling the perimeter.  Most of them were young, probably conscripts.  Many villages like this had a system where teens served in the village guard for a period - that way it could be assured that all able-bodied men (and certain of the women) had had combat training at some point in their lives.  Now they were scrambling, running around the village like disturbed ants.  Archers were lining the walls, waiting for the rest of the attackers.  There... the idiot had broken disguise.  A dead man lay on the floor next to him.  Harvis turned and received a sword-stroke to the side, plunging into his ribs.  He fell, dying.  Jefri swore loudly and broke the link.  His buzzard vanished in a puff of smoke, but even if anyone had spotted it the jig was up anyhow.

Harvis, the fifth member of their team, had been sent into the village disguised as a Being.  He had concealed his wings and taken the appearance of a travelling merchant to assess the enemy's defences.  Harvis wasn't really Jefri's first choice for that task, but of the five, he was the most adept at changing his fur colour, muting the naturally bright shades of a Creature to a shade more socially acceptable to the infidel Beings.
But Harvis was always a bit of a hothead and it seemed he'd done something rash.  Jefri sighed again at the injustice - the Archbishop himself had blessed his team and annointed them with holy water.  They were warriors of light - why had the Gods allowed these unbelievers to kill one of his men?  Was it a lack of faith and piety?  Not for the first time, the rat wondered if he should have become a priest like his father had.

"Harvis has failed," he told the other three.  "He's alerted the village and must now answer to the Gods themselves for this error.  Meanwhile, we must attack now while the bad guys are still in disarray.  We will attack from the rear.  Use your tentacles to cut through the stockade.  Try and take the leaders first - left to their own devices the survivors will mill around and we can mop them up at our leisure.  They are only Beings, after all.
"If we can end this day with honour, the Gods will be pleased!" he summed up.  "For a greater glory, they will surely overlook our fallen brother's transgression."

Jefri's soldiers made short work of the wall, morphing their wings into tentacles and honing the edges, slicing through the solid oak like it was made of butter.  Jefri marched in triumphantly through the archway they'd made, his armour shining - only to stop dead.  A figure was standing there, straight and tall, surrounded by archers.  They had been expecting this.

His opponent was a Doberman warrior, sword drawn in challenge.  As Jefri watched in astonishment, his body flowed slightly revealing two pairs of leathery wings, terracotta in colour.  The Doberman was an incubus as well.

"This is our village!" the warrior snarled.  "Get out and leave us in peace!  These people have done nothing to you!"

For a moment the rat was taken aback and he was not the only one - the Doberman's allies were staring at him in horror and Jefri could hear the babble of their thoughts as they realised that there had been demons living among them.
Perversely enough, it was this which steeled Jefri's resolve to take the village.  'Cubi who lived peacefully amongst Beings like this had evidently gone native, traitors who had shunned the glory of their birthright and pretended to be the very scum which the Jyraneth and Rhu'Hahn clans had sworn to save the world from.  There was only one word for this crime.

"SLAY THE HERETIC!" he yelled.  The Doberman leapt back, cursing.  Pirgis jumped at his foe, sword drawn.  The other 'Cubi parried, and stabbed the hyrax through the chin with an upward stroke, skewering his brain.
Pirgis's body slumped forwards like a sack of potatoes and the sudden extra weight threw the Doberman off balance.  Worse, his sword was now stuck in his foe's skull.  This was his fatal mistake - instead of dropping it and using his tentacles to attack, he frantically jerked at the hilt, trying to free it.
Jefri took the advantage, extending his tentacles backwards in a sudden thrust and launching himself into the air towards his foe.  He cast a spell to fortify his strength and kicked, his booted foot slamming into the side of the canine's head with all his might and breaking the neck.  The Doberman grunted and collapsed, despair washing through his dying brain.  Jefri lapped the emotion up greedily.  Pirgis may have been lost, but Jefri had at least paid the killer back in kind.  It felt good.

The battle began in earnest.  Jervan and Donovan had slain many men and fireball spells had ignited several key buildings.  Sparing a glance in their direction, Jefri watched Beings scrambling in the confusion.  The two 'Cubi took full advantage of their distraction, cackling with delight as they leisurely picked off women and the elderly who tried to douse the flames.  Suddenly Jervan turned as a blade sank into her side, a death blow given to her by a feline in some moment of bravado.  The succubus died with a delighted smile on her lips.

Donovan slashed at the attacker but his enemy dived back, taking only a cut to his side.  Shaking with terror, the cat ran around the building, past Jefri and back to where his leaders had barricaded the street with crates and the like.  The feline dived, throwing himself at the barricade and scrambled to get out of reach.  He was helped across it by one of the heretics, a Husky incubus with tan leathery wings.  Behind a crate and in comparative safety, he curled up into a ball and lay whimpering to himself as shell-shock set in, the sword by his side upon the ground.  It was still stained with Jervan's lifeblood and the rat felt nothing less than a deep desire to finish him off for this evil deed.

Moving in for the kill, he leaped up onto the barricade and extended his tentacles into murderously pointed ends that he may bring justice upon the wicked.  The Husky drew his sword and moved forward to block the cat from his attacker.  Jefri switched targets and lanced the Husky instead, piercing his heart, lungs and one arm, shivering with joy as he felt the hot blood of his dying victim upon his tentacles and the quivering of his stricken foe.  There was a yell of horror from one of the Husky's comrades.

The shock, pain and horror of the dying Husky flowed through Jefri, feeding him and lighting up every nerve with ecstasy like slow fire.  Waves of grief from his victim's companions punctured his mind-shield and he felt giddy with excitement.  It wasn't just the thrill of conquest, the excitement of battle, it was the nature of his prey as well.  Another heretic had been dispatched.  This meant that he was not some mere warrior but an agent of the very Gods themselves, an instrument of divine justice.  What Jefri did now was an act of truth, unutterably, ineffably right.  Ending the life of his foe was a rite of purification, bringing the entire cosmos closer to that state of glorious perfection that could only be attained by purging it of the those who stood in its way.  The rat sighed with pleasure at this vision - this was what his life was for.  It was why he existed.  When he killed the enemies of Creation... that was the time he truly felt alive.

Other 'Cubi would run at once to their enemy, clutching at the head as they died and drinking deeply from the immortal soul of the prey, consuming their essence greedily.  That Jefri had never managed to do this was an unending source of frustration to him.  Try as he might, the soul would always slip from his grasp, escaping into the safety of the void.  But with enough practice, he knew he could do it one day.  And the soul of another 'Cubi would bring him power that would take many Beings to equal.

He fleetingly considered trying it anyway, but there wasn't time.  Besides, the usual trick of shortening his tentacles and reeling in the kill like a fish would not work because the Husky was bigger and heavier than he was - the result would be Jefri being pulled to his victim, not the other way around.  In a battle as pitched as this one, drawing himself in range of the enemy would be little short of suicide and the Gods would not approve.

While he had been busily skewering one of the heretical scum, one of the 'Cubi had seized the opportunity, blasting Donovan with a sheet of pure magical energy.  Blinded as he was by the euphoria of the kill, part of him had felt the pain and heard the screams and not all of them were from the wounded.

Jefri did a back-flip and hit the dirt, landing daintily and flattening himself against the ground in a single, perfect motion.  He glanced up to make sure none of the defenders were about to return the favour by skewering him back, but it seemed they were too preoccupied with their fallen comrade.
Rising to a crouch, he scuttled over to Donovan and winced.  The smell of burnt flesh was almost as overpowering as the pain that the horse felt.  But it was ebbing... Donovan was not long for this world.  Whatever spell the heretic had cast, it had passed unharmed through the armour, frying the horse's flesh while leaving his clothes and possessions intact.  Nasty stuff.  Inwardly, Jefri shivered.

Donovan gave a sigh and blood trickled from his muzzle.  He twitched once and then fell back limply, the soul freed from its housing of flesh and bone.  Jefri swore and turned around - the next spell might be for him.  The rat slunk back to the edge of the building and peered around it - all seemed to be quiet.  He ducked back again to keep his foes on edge.  But at the back of his mind, something kept nagging him.  He was a warrior of the Gods - so how could mere 'Cubi defy their will?  'Cubi who had renounced the Gods, no less.  If these villagers were the enemies of all that was good and true... how could they have killed his team...?

He peered back around the wall once more, just to make sure.  A female doberman was kneeling as if in prayer, presumably over the body of her ally.  Jefri chuckled inwardly at this... a heretic praying!  What could that possibly achieve?  His lips curled into a smile and he drew out a small throwing dagger.  If he was quick and his aim was true, he could put it through the side of the dog's head, piercing where the skull was thinner and there would be one less heretic in the world.  Something smashed into the back of his head.

Jefri went down.  His face was in the dirt, someone was grabbing for his arm.  His wings started to flow - a quick stab upwards and he'd skewer his attacker like a pig, or like the Husky.  A cuff went on him and his wings faded, the sensation going and with it his empathic abilities.  It had been a decoy... the Doberman had been there to distract him while the others crept around the building and placed the restraints upon him, robbing him of his Gods-given powers and knocking him back to the level of the worthless Being scum.  This could only be the work of those heretical 'Cubi... mere Beings would not have been able to cloak their minds and emotions so thoroughly.

They rolled him onto his side, Jefri struggling frantically as they held him down.  There was a sword against his neck, they were just going to execute him, right here and now... He prayed silently.  Where were the Gods when he needed them...?

"We can't do that," the young Doberman said.  "He's the last survivor... he's our prisoner now.  Even shit like him... we can't kill him out of hand."

"You're right," the Husky was saying.  "That would be an execution, not self defence.  It would break the Code."  Jefri started... this was the man who'd killed Donovan.  He looked 25, but there was something in his eyes that a 'Cubi could recognise, his inner age.  He was old, at least 300 - several times older than Jefri.  They loosed his bonds.

"I will pit you against my son Dorcan," he continued.  "He is young and has not yet come into power.  With the cuff on, you'll be evenly matched."

Jefri hesitated.  There was something else, something they were waiting for him to do.  Some sort of test?  With the cuff robbing him of his thought-reading powers, he had no way to tell.
At his feet was a sword.  He reached for the hilt but his gauntleted hand stopped short.  The rat glanced up at the Husky... there was the faintest trace of a smile on his lips, the merest hint of an encouraging nod...  What were they expecting...?

Slowly, Dorcan crouched down to about Jefri's height and placed his own blade upon the ground, watching the rat intently.  Jefri burst into motion, snatching up the shortsword and leaping with a shrill scream, aiming for the throat.  If he could get a stroke in before the dog was even able to defend himself...

But Dorcan was ready.  He leapt to one side and the Husky's arm reached out, plucking Jefri out of thin air, and pinning his arms back.  Jefri struggled and thrashed, his armoured toes kicking helplessly in mid-air.

"You could have run," the Doberman said.  "You could have surrendered.  But you chose to attack an unarmed man.  Your choice has damned you."  Jefri glanced from side to side, three faces... two Doberman pinschers and a Husky.  Their eyes were blank, devoid of emotion, their faces grim and determined as if they were being forced to do something they really didn't want to do.
"For you, my dear son," the Husky said.  The kangaroo rat's mouth opened to scream, but there was only a gurgling sound as the blade severed his throat.

Evil has triumphed, Jefri realised in despair.  His vision faded to nothingness and his soul left the mortal world.

[ChaosMageX]

I got to read this latest story early, and it was entertaining.

First, I would like to apologize in advance for this brief rant.

<rant>
Is Fenholt a complete nutter, or just bloody dumb?

Openly revealing his wings in front of large group of armed beings and then not directly using them in combat is by far one of the absolutely stupidest moves I've ever seen any cubi make.  If he had not been killed by Jefri, he would have certainly been killed by one of the beings from his village out of fear or bigotry.

From the sounds of it, you were clearly writing it like he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.  You stated how chose to try to dislodge a being weapon that is quite frankly much less powerful than his wing tentacles, instead of actually using the tentacles on the wings he revealed to defend himself.

Did you really intend to make him sound that foolish and careless?
</rant>

And now that that's over, onto the praise...

The observation buzzard was a nice touch, a magical equivalent of a military drone.  I can only wonder if later versions followed the same path of development and could attack if necessary.

I really liked your battle scenes.  It reminded me of one of my favorite kinds of free form combat role play, in which each player has two characters, one belonging to each of the two teams, and then we all write about our characters attempting to defeat other peoples' characters on the opposing team.

I also liked how watching his comrades die around him began to chip away at Jefri's preconceived notions of his clan's divine right to purify the world.  However, I felt like the snuffing of his life could have been extended with further realizations.

It feels like a cake without the icing, and the icing could have been Jefri's frantic attempts to find closure for his failure as he died, an attempt to explain to himself why the Gods had forsaken his so called noble endeavor.

On the other hand, you may not have wanted to overly draw out the short story, or that just wasn't the chain of thoughts that Jefri would follow as he died.  I guess it's just one of the differences in our writing styles.

At the end of the story, they had Jefri cornered, and waited for him to openly attack Dorcan before killing him in order to not kill him "out of hand".  Does that mean that their code of combat follows a turn based system, like a sprite video game battle?

Was the other doberman Salomere or Mordrith that was surrounding him before he died?

And finally, maybe I'm not clear on what's happening, but why did Jefri, a seemingly competent warrior, suddenly turn stone cold stupid at the last minute and attack Dorcan instead of retreating?  It was as if he didn't know what they were planning, when it would have been clear to anyone else with half a brain.

This is where a final description of Jefri's thoughts as he died would have been useful, in order to explain what in the freaking hell he was thinking.  I can't think of a single logical reason why he'd attack Dorcan, unless I've missed some other delusional belief or overpowering emotion that was blinding his better judgment.  It couldn't have been that he felt he'd be dying a righteous death from his attempt to fulfill the noble cause of purifying the world of heretics, given the way he regarded Harvis's death.  So what was it that drove him to his death?

[Tapewolf]

Is Fenholt a complete nutter, or just bloody dumb?

Openly revealing his wings in front of large group of armed beings and then not directly using them in combat is by far one of the absolutely stupidest moves I've ever seen any cubi make.  If he had not been killed by Jefri, he would have certainly been killed by one of the beings from his village out of fear or bigotry.

It was to intimidate Jefri.  If he'd appeared as a Being, Jefri would simply have ignored him and tried to kill him outright.  It's also implied that if Jefri hadn't realised they'd been hiding, he would have believed the 'Cubi were running the village or had enslaved it, and his team would probably have just walked out again.

Bigots or no, I really don't think the villagers would have attacked him while he was fighting on their side.  As is mentioned in the comic, things got a bit sticky afterwards, but during the battle, at least, you can make some strange alliances.

From the sounds of it, you were clearly writing it like he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.  You stated how chose to try to dislodge a being weapon that is quite frankly much less powerful than his wing tentacles, instead of actually using the tentacles on the wings he revealed to defend himself.

He was headstrong and inexperienced and for obvious reasons, hadn't had any practice with his tentacles.  He was also in a battle situation and people don't always think clearly in stressful situations.

I also liked how watching his comrades die around him began to chip away at Jefri's preconceived notions of his clan's divine right to purify the world.  However, I felt like the snuffing of his life could have been extended with further realizations.

Dragging it out into a torture would have broken their code and probably wouldn't have sat well with the Beings.

At the end of the story, they had Jefri cornered, and waited for him to openly attack Dorcan before killing him in order to not kill him "out of hand".  Does that mean that their code of combat follows a turn based system, like a sprite video game battle?

No, but killing your prisoners is generally considered a Bad Thing ethically.

Was the other doberman Salomere or Mordrith that was surrounding him before he died?

Salomere.

This is where a final description of Jefri's thoughts as he died would have been useful, in order to explain what in the freaking hell he was thinking.  I can't think of a single logical reason why he'd attack Dorcan, unless I've missed some other delusional belief or overpowering emotion that was blinding his better judgment.

He believed he had to fight Dorcan in order to win.  The test was to see whether he'd do that or give up.  Also he was panicking because he couldn't read their thoughts or emotions.
See also my earlier reply about Fenholt.

EDIT:
On reflection, you are right, though.  I've added Jefri's final thoughts.  Hope that helps.

[Gabi]

You're good at describing action scenes. I've started to doubt if I'll ever be able to learn how to do that. I only got lost once, when "the Husky drew his sword and moved forward to block the cat from his attacker". I couldn't find any prior mention to him, so I couldn't tell who the Husky was until later.

[Tapewolf]

You're good at describing action scenes. I've started to doubt if I'll ever be able to learn how to do that.

You'd be surprised.  Three years ago I was asking Paladin to help with them because I was hopeless at it.  I'm not quite sure at what point I became competent at writing them myself 

I only got lost once, when "the Husky drew his sword and moved forward to block the cat from his attacker". I couldn't find any prior mention to him, so I couldn't tell who the Husky was until later.

Thanks for spotting that, I'll fix it and try and remember to fix the FA copy as well when I get home.

[Tipod]

I'll always contend the DMFA-verse, whimsical as it is, would probably suck to live in since scenes like this seem pretty commonplace You kinda wonder why some more beings don't just live in total isolation from everything to avoid getting steamrolled by creatures.

[Tapewolf]

I'll always contend the DMFA-verse, whimsical as it is, would probably suck to live in since scenes like this seem pretty commonplace You kinda wonder why some more beings don't just live in total isolation from everything to avoid getting steamrolled by creatures.

Maybe you meant as hermits or single families in isolation, I don't know.  The Ja'Fell guys picked that village to live in precisely because it was in the back of beyond and they managed to live there for at least 15 years without needing to reveal themselves.

At a guess you could probably consider Creature attacks on villages as something akin to an air crash in this world - they happen, they're nasty and they make a big splash when they do, but they're actually pretty rare.

What does seem to happen fairly regularly is that you'll get an Angel or Demon turn up and offer to protect the town in exchange for some kind of power or tribute.  And then of course you have something like Zinvth where the whole city is protected.

[Tapewolf]

My writing seems to have taken a turn for the darker lately, but I hope people find this interesting despite the fact that some of it is really rather nasty.  It was a long time in the writing, I wrote the end first, some time ago.  Now I've finally been able to write the beginning.



Only Children

The wolf climbed off his Namorai GX1100 and removing his helmet and gloves, parked it, warding the bike against theft with a wave of a white-furred hand.  He had heard of people using a mechanical digger to steal a bike by removing the ground underneath it, but that was practically the only way unless you had an almost Fae-like skill at reversing an encryption spell.  On balance, it was probably safe enough here.  In all likelihood this wouldn't take long.

Once upon a time, not so very long ago, Seth had been an incubus.  He had devoted his life to hunting - and occasionally killing - criminals.  In other words, he was a bounty hunter.

Some people viewed this as a career only taken by scum... Sethir didn't really care one way or the other.  To him it was a natural extension of the adventuring career and in any case, he had a very personal stake in the matter.  His foster parents had had their souls removed and quite possibly consumed by his natural parents.  They had very shortly died themselves by Sethir's own hand, but since then he had sworn to bring to justice anyone else who ate souls.

Most of a century ago Sethir had died himself, in a motorcycle accident.  To his surprise he had been revived by the unlikeliest of allies, but at something of a cost.  Though android technology had improved in leaps and bounds since his original resurrection, he was still only about as good as an ordinary, mortal Being when it came to spells.  Shapeshifting - the primary talent of his race - was completely out, at least until they could figure out a way to allow a robot to do it.

Because of these limitations, Seth relied mostly on his gun and katana for self-defence - or when the occasion called for it, bringing someone in dead.  This was not something he did lightly, though.  Unable to read thoughts as he had done before his death, Sethir took great care and was far more picky about the contracts he accepted.  In some ways he considered himself to be retired - concentrating more on private investigations and other less violent work - but from time to time there came up a case that attracted his interest, and this was one of them.

To help make up for the deficiencies of his android form, the weapons he owned had been enchanted and he also had a number of other charmed items which could subdue a Creature for a few minutes, and some cuffs that would rob them of their powers long enough to to bring them in.
For all its drawbacks his new body did have some benefits, though.  Before the accident, riding in full leathers in midsummer was a draining experience - now he could go out in any weather he liked, and having broken his neck once, he never had to worry about it again.  Being synthetic also meant that didn't need to shower anywhere near as often as before, since he didn't perspire, and that went for his racing suits at well.  Since his death, the bills for having them cleaned had plummeted.

Sethir drew his gun and held it before him, switching his eyes into light-amp mode as he entered the apartment building.  He knew he wasn't going to like this.

***

The first disappearance had taken place four months ago, a young child taken in the middle of a shopping centre.  The victim had never been found.  Nor was the perpetrator for that matter, though his likeness had been caught on closed-circuit television.
Such kidnappings did occur from time to time, and although it had made the headlines for most of a fortnight, the media had gradually lost interest.  Then another child was taken, and another.  Once a month, once a fortnight, once a week.  Then several times a week.  It had thrown the province into a frenzy and the perpetrator had still not been found.  There was little obvious pattern to the kidnappings and the person - or persons - actually responsible for each abduction never had the same appearance.

Sethir had immediately assumed the worst, that it was another incubus responsible for doing this.  His kind were able to change their appearance, and being highly emotional creatures they were often quite unpredictable.  In his mind, he had drawn up a number of scenarios, ranging from best case to worst case.

In the best case, the kidnapper wanted a child of their own and was willing to go to any lengths in order to achieve this.  Things like this sometimes happened and if this had turned out to be the case, Sethir would be willing to treat the kidnapper reasonably gently since they were most likely in need of psychiatric help.  The main problem with his theory was that too many children had been taken for it to make sense.
In the medium case it was a member of Que'tnar's clan.  They were attracted to two emotions in particular, despair and gratitude, and many of their less scrupulous members were more than willing to steal a cub in this manner so that they could feast upon the parents' despair, and then gorge themselves on the happiness of a foster couple, desperate enough to resort to such measures in order to have an infant of their own.
In the worst case, it was someone who had taken their lessons at the 'Cubi academy to heart in all the wrong ways.  Though it pained him to admit it, Sethir knew that there were members of his race so callous that they saw nothing wrong with torturing a child to death and 'tidying up' afterwards by consuming the infant's soul.

***

Sethir entered the building, moving slowly to try and avoid having his leathers creak too much.  The lights in the foyer were out, but he wasn't surprised, the building had been abandoned for years and was home now only to the occasional squatter.  But someone resembling the last person to have been caught on CCTV had been sighted in the area.  It wasn't much to go on but Seth had done his homework... plotting the kidnappings on a map had split it up into rough clusters, and this apartment block was just off the centre of the last one.

Though he could no longer hear thoughts, Sethir had some expansion cards fitted that enabled him to sense minds, if not what they were thinking.  It wasn't great but it was the best that was currently available and he had sprung for it as soon as it became available.  He disturbed a squatter on the lower floors and in exchange for his silence, they had told him of a stranger on one of the upper levels.

This seemed to be the only other mind in the building, and jimmying the lock, Seth opened the door as quietly as he could.  There was a dim light in one of the back rooms.  In the front, a bowl and some tins of food.  When he entered a bedroom, Sethir gave a barely-stifled gasp of horror.
There was a large pile of clothes on the floor, small clothes that a child might wear.  There were also a number of jars filled with what appeared to me some kind of ash.
The wolf sagged against the wall... it appeared that his worst-case scenario was closer to the truth.  If he had been alive, tears might have come, but that was impossible now.  He shelved his horror and replaced it with a grim, red rage.  Gritting his teeth, the white wolf and drew out his katana with murderous intent.  Whoever was responsible for this outrage would be lucky if they got out of it with their head still attached.

He kicked open the dining-room door, turning off the light-amp in his eyes as he entered the one lamplit room.  There, leaning against the back wall was a bright yellow jackal.  She looked very pleased with herself.

"Got here at last?" Keaton said, glancing up.  "I knew someone would be along soon.  Didn't think it would be anyone I recognised though.  Ain't it a small world?" her smile faded for a second.
"Pity.  Another half-hour and I'd be gone... would have saved so many awkward moments."  She brightened.  "Don't suppose you could go back out and come back in 30 minutes or so?"

Sethir just glowered at her.  He seemed to be having difficulty speaking.

"Too bad.  You should have been here earlier, but that's always been your problem.  Too soft-hearted, too hidebound... and too late."

"You... disgust me," Sethir said, forcing out each word as if it was poisonous.  "I should kill you now, but I want to hear your explanation first."
The jackal looked at him and smirked.  She removed from her pocket a small round gem which glowed with its own inner light and began playing catch with it.

"Like I said... too late," she sang.

"How could you do this, Keaton?" he gurgled.  "I did not think that even you would ever do something so depraved.  For the gods' sakes, they were only children!"  Keaton's expression turned to ice.

"Oh yes," she said.  "They were only children.  Who gives a fuck about them?  No-one.  They don't matter."  The jackal turned away.  "They're like dustbunnies.  They're so small and can get lost so no one can find them and no one will notice..."

"But you promised Daryil, you promised your father, you promised Dorcan," Sethir grated, "You promised them all that you wouldn't eat another soul.  Even Jyraneth herself would surely destroy you for such a crime!"

"I haven't eaten this soul," Keaton said.  "I just... borrowed it."  She giggled.  Sethir looked like he was about to explode but forced himself to be calm, something that was a lot easier now his emotions could be overridden by software control.

"You've been on my shitlist for centuries, Keaton," he said.  "I swear upon all the gods that if you so much as look at that poor, innocent soul in the wrong w-" he trailed off as the jackal threw back her head and collapsed in a peal of helpless laughter, the stone falling from her grasp and skittering across the floor.

"I ain't going to eat them," she said, reaching out to retrieve the soul-stone.  "You wouldn't eat a lump of shit, would you?  Me neither.  And besides..." her eyes became unfocussed for a moment and then narrowed horribly.  "Besides... that would be too quick and too easy for scum like that." she glanced upwards.

Sethir followed her gaze in spite of himself and gasped in horror.  Suspended from the ceiling by a pair of manacles was a lump of twisted flesh that had probably been a person once.  There were no wings in evidence so it had presumably been a Being at some point.

"You tortured him...?" Sethir told her.  "I should kill you for that alone."

"Her," the Jackal grunted.  "I guess it is a little hard to tell now.  But yeah, she had it coming.  'They were only children'...  What kind of an excuse is that?  Children are innocent.  Even Being children don't deserve to be murdered by some sick fuck.  Do you disagree...?" she stared at Sethir defiantly.

The wolf did a double-take.  "She did the murders?!"

"Took you long enough, bish-boy," she grinned, throwing the stone for him to catch.  "She used a concealment charm to change her appearance, 'case you're wondering.  I was gonna to keep her as a pet, but I've changed my mind.  You can take the glory for this one, though... don't think it would look too good on my record."

"Sounds like a deal to me," he said.  "Just get out of here - I don't think the others will be so understanding.  And Keaton... you were gone before I got here."

Now, he pondered, looking at the mashed corpse, I wonder if healing spells work on
dead people...?

[Gabi]

...I guess it would depend on the spell. Nicely played. I guess Sethir should have paid more attention to what Keaton was saying, but considering how he fell about her in the first place, it makes sense that he didn't.

Oh, in the 6th paragraph there's a duplicate 'which'.

[Tapewolf]

...I guess it would depend on the spell. Nicely played. I guess Sethir should have paid more attention to what Keaton was saying, but considering how he fell about her in the first place, it makes sense that he didn't.

Yes, he'd just found evidence of a grotesque crime and then immediately ran into a known criminal.  That caused him to jump to conclusions, forgetting that it's the one crime Keaton would never, ever commit.

Oh, in the 6th paragraph there's a duplicate 'which'.

Thanks, that should be fixed now.

Also, I forgot to thank Keaton for proof-reading and her line about the dustbunnies.

[Tapewolf]

Okay, this is a short story that is somewhat different from my usual fare.  Again it's fairly dark and frankly, it's the sort of thing which people are either going to find hilarious or disturbing.  In my defence, 'Cubi are not all sweetness and light and I have been somewhat guilty of sugar-coating them.

The idea has been kicking around for a little while and people who are observant may have seen references to this already.

I owe a debt of gratitude to Keaton for helping me finally nail this story in the dealer's room at Anthrocon.  I guess time will tell which of us was right about the wisdom of actually posting it here.



Cass

Nallman closed the door and took off his jacket.  It had been a long day at work and he was tired, so after fixing himself a quick meal, he watched the box for a little while and then, as he began to find himself nodding off, yawned and headed to bed.

The tiger slept soundly for a while, until something roused him from his slumber.  He wasn't quite sure what it was, until his fur fluffed slightly in a sudden draught... oh, wait.  The window was open.  How did that happen?  No matter, he reached up and closed it, and then, rolling back, bumped into something that hadn't been there before.  There was another person lying beside him.

"Mary..." he mumbled sleepily, and then a horrible chill stole through him, bringing him to full wakefulness.  His wife was away on a training course for her work.  She wouldn't be back until the following week.

"Who... who's there?" he exclaimed, his voice cracking.  The window hadn't simply been closed, it had been locked and now this person - or thing - had opened it and parked themselves right next to him in his own bed.

"Ohhh," the intruder crooned.  "It's sooo cute when they figure it out!"

Nallman let out a yell and ran for the door.  Something wrapped itself around his legs and he fell.  When he looked up, the lights were on and a female figure stood next to him, looking down with a sinister expression and a slightly curled lip.

"Yes," the jackal said.  She was dressed in an outfit of black silk and leather which Nallman would - under normal circumstances - have described as 'stunning'.  However this feeling, brief as it was, was very quickly replaced by stark terror.  This was not just any jackal... not just any jackal succubus, even.  Nallman had seen pictures of her before... documentaries and dramas about her evil life and wicked deeds.  This was Keaton Jyraneth.

"We're both going to enjoy this," she said and scooped him up, placing him back in the bed.  "Keep me entertained and you'll live a bit longer.  Maybe," she added and giggled childishly.  The tiger just stared back at her, terrified.  He was only a regular Being... struggling wouldn't help against someone as powerful as her.

Keaton advanced and did the usual succubus business... a starter of seduction followed by a large main course of rape.  Her eyes stared into his with delight, feasting upon his terror and the various other emotions and feelings that someone in his predicament would go through.  She was enjoying this.

"And now the dessert," Keaton said.  She kissed Nallman, and the tiger uttered one final scream as she began to tug at his soul.  I'm sorry, Mary... he thought as the core of his being was invaded and violated, giving way to blackness and nonexistence.

* * *

Nallman opened his eyes.  His soul was quite clearly still in his body and apparently undamaged... he didn't even have a headache.  So it was just a dream, then...?
No, probably not.  The window was open again and there was something left behind in the bed.  Two grey feathers.

What the hell?

Nallman had watched enough accounts of Keaton and her crimes to know that she had demon-style wings, not angelic ones.  Incubi and succubi were shapeshifters, it was true - they could hide their wings or assume a different wing-type entirely.  But assuming an alternate form with feathered wings was not usually enough to allow the feathers to actually shed.

At this point Nallman's eyes fixated upon the letter, lying on the dressing table in the corner.  It was addressed 'Mark Nallman' and it had been sealed on the back.  The succubus would appear to have kissed the envelope, leaving a print of her creepy black lipstick on the join.

"Dearest Mark," the letter read, "I had a marvellous time last night. You were great fun.  I'm sorry I scared you but if it's any consolation, your fear was delicious and yeah, that kinda was the idea.  Anyway, I'm not supposed to do this and my Leader will be mad if he finds out so this is just our little secret, right?  I hope this little something will make things better.  Love and kisses, Cass"

Inside was a cheque for 10'000 gold dollars.

* * *

Cassandra Daryil closed the door and relaxed her disguise.  Her wings faded slightly and became feathered and grey.  The black markings on her cheeks and her eyes slid off like oil and beneath her dress, the intricate patterns down her side followed suit.  She took off her arm-length gloves, the fur of her hands becoming her natural yellow and losing the black markings.

It had been a long night and she was tired, so after fixing herself a small pastry, she headed into the bedroom to rest for a bit.

There was a noise.  The yellow jackal sat bolt upright... she could sense another mind there.  It was shielded but radiating anger and she quailed slightly.  Just then there was a click and the room was flooded with light forcing her to cover her eyes while they adjusted to the sudden brightness.

A dark, bat-winged figure was standing in the doorway, cracking his or her knuckles.  Cassandra's feathery grey headwings drooped.  Oh shit...

"Hey there, bitch..." Keaton said.  "...we need to have a little talk."

[Chairtastic]

A splendid little story.

A couple of errors, but that's unavoidable.   "It's sooo cute when the figure it out!"  I believe you meant 'they'.  "...help against someone as powerful than her."  Again, I believe you meant 'as' there. 

In less nitpicky news!  Angry Keaton makes me giggle.  I wonder if she intends to 'talk' with blunt force trauma, sharp force trauma, maybe some amputation.  ...Perhaps even all of the above?

[Tapewolf]

A couple of errors, but that's unavoidable.   "It's sooo cute when the figure it out!"  I believe you meant 'they'.  "...help against someone as powerful than her."  Again, I believe you meant 'as' there. 

Fixed, thanks.  'The' was in there since the beginning, 'than' was a more recent one and may have been added after proof-reading, in fact.

In less nitpicky news!  Angry Keaton makes me giggle.  I wonder if she intends to 'talk' with blunt force trauma, sharp force trauma, maybe some amputation.  ...Perhaps even all of the above?

Probably more of the blunt force kind.  Otherwise Daryil will get angry.

[Lisky]

Keaton: "Allow me to introduce you to Catastrophe"

*giggles*

that's about all i've got for mental images there X3

[Corgatha Taldorthar]

Amputation might not be so bad; we have some evidence that creatures can regenerate limbs.

Still, I'wouldn't be worried, I didn't find it terrifically dark. That the rape is only alluded to instead of described lightens the tone, and since it "all turns out to be a dream anyway" lightens it further, despite the terror that our tiger feels.


The narrational direction split was kind of interesting, although the ellipse placement from the first to second chunk somewhat confused me, a short paragraph describing Nallman coming to in stages and realizing he's not soul-dead might have been more effective, not really sure.


All in all though, an interesting story, very nice level of detail that kept things flowing while keeping the core themes of fear/exploitation/ vulnerability intact.


Best wishes,
Corgatha Taldorthar.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

I do have one minor nitpick, and that's that since Cubi don't usually sleep, after they reach the age where they start preying on others... why would Cass be taking a nap, for Keaton to interrupt her?

Other than that, a most interesting idea. Still sugar-coated, I think, a bit, but still well performed.

[Tapewolf]

I do have one minor nitpick, and that's that since Cubi don't usually sleep, after they reach the age where they start preying on others... why would Cass be taking a nap, for Keaton to interrupt her?

Well, 'Cubi don't have unlimited stamina.  If you wear yourself out, you're going to need to recuperate somehow.
Also, if you're persistently up all night and all day, at some point someone is going to notice...