Succubus Inquisition Ch. 01

"I need you to go find Yshomatsu and find out what has happened to him and please hurry."

"Right away sir," And with that Athan bowed, turned, and quickly returned to his room to pack. The journey to his mentor's hideout wasn't too far but it wasn't an easy trip either. He didn't want to consider that something horrible had happened to his mentor, but the idea kept creeping into the crevice of his mind. Perhaps something ancient had indeed woken from its slumber and was now feasting on mortals around the local towns and villages. Athan was lost in thought for a moment until he realized that he had stopped packing his things. He reached over and placed his rolled up throw bed on top of his pack and tied it up.

*****

Believe in it or not, it didn't matter the monks couldn't sit by idly and let these pale men harm the chained woman. It was time to act.

And act they did.

As if one the two monks sprang from cover of darkness, closing in on the nearest cultist. With a swift punch the pale man went down, creating an overly loud bang upon the ground. The monks braced for a counter attack, and were stunned when no one reacted. Not even the chained woman was aware of their presence. Athan glanced over to his mentor, it all happened so fast. Time seemed to freeze from the moment that cultist hit the ground.

Simultaneously all the candles in the room flared up. The room got so bright they had to cover their eyes. Athan looked down as he covered his face with his arm. And that's when he noticed it, these cultists were indeed blind. Where their eyes should have been there were scars, as if their eyes had been violently torn out. That explained earlier when the two monks had watched a few of the cultists enter the cave with no light.

The blinding light continued to brighten; they heard movement all around them. Yshomatsu realized the cultists were finally reacting and screamed out to Athan, "They're attacking, defend yourself." He tried to look and quickly regretted the act, blinding light, brighter than the monk ever thought it could be burned his eyes. He screamed out again but this time in pure agony. He collapsed to his knees, a wave of nausea washed over him and the content of his stomach ended up on the floor.

Athan on the other hand kept his eyes tightly shut, reached out with his senses and could feel the vibrations caused by the cultist's movements. He expected them to fight as one being fueled by their religious beliefs, considering they were blind and everything.

However they came at him wildly, as a rock slide would fall upon the mountain side. But come to think of it maybe they were acting as one, and he was just blocking their attacks. It wasn't like he could open his eyes to tell the difference. Instead he focused on keeping him calm and allowing his body to react.

Pale eyeless cultists swarmed around Athanatos, limbs flailing around. Athan's body reacted instantaneous by feeling the air move around him, effortlessly blocking or dodging their attacks. Blow after blow were blocked allowing Yshomatsu enough time to recover.

Ysh pulled at this robe's sleeve, tearing it from its seam; quickly he wrapped it around his eyes--- he wasn't going to allow another mishap--- and rushed into the fight. Like a drunken sailor he stumbled past everyone. If Athan would have been able to see it he would have burst out laughing. However all he felt was a gush of air go past him.

"Mentor."

Yshomatsu abruptly stopped and spun around, having heard his student speak he learned which of the many presences were friendly. He returned a similar phrase and the two fought as one being. Whatever guided the blind cultists proved to be lacking and one by one they fell.

Athan could feel his body weaken, he was human after all. Three cultists were left standing but to the monk's senses it felt like nine and he was getting tired. His reaction time slowed just enough to even the odds.

Yshomatsu could feel his young friend and student's movement's slowdown, as if they were connected. He couldn't however feel his emotions or know what was happening. The monks had practiced and mastered fighting blind folded, yet even the greatest among them could only sense another's presence and movements, and nothing more. Yshomatsu considered Athan as a young boy when in reality they were only a few years apart in age. The difference in position had been a result of Yshomatsu growing up at the monastery reading books from the library, whereas Athan lived a less sheltered childhood.

The Monk Order had found Yshomatsu early and embraced him, allowing his slightly obsessed quest for knowledge to flourish. Athan was found later as an elderly monk walked an empty city street late at night. A group of questionable characters cut off his peaceful walk, Athan appeared out of thin air just as things turned violent. The young orphan saved the elderly monk's life, fighting five to one. In turn the older man took Athan into the monastery, badly wounded and in need of care. From that point on Athan remained and trained his body in the monk's teachings.

A few years later Athan was accepted fully into their ranks and began learning under Yshomatsu. The two bonded over years of exciting missions, learning much from each other. It was for this reason that Ysh now worried about his friend and stepped up his game. Only fair after all, that was exactly what Athan had done when he was on his knees unloading the contents of his gut to the cavern floor.

His longer, darker hair flowed behind him as he slid in between his pupil and the remaining cultists. Athan felt it and took a deep breath; a moment to recover was all he needed. He kept telling himself as he leaned over feeling light headed. The entire time his eyes had been tightly--- painfully--- shut, yet something tugged at his inner being, urging him to look into the center of the room.

A fury of fists kept the cultists attention, yet one skilled monk various three strangely guided blind men took all the monks energy to withstand. He quickly understood what he had felt from his young friend's presence, fatigue. The monk had taken on all the cultists alone at the beginning. A new wave of something, pride, washed over Yshomatsu as he realized he owed it to his great student to return the favor. He was beyond proud of the young monk.

Only a few moments had gone by as their past and present flashed behind closed eye lids. The cultists pressed on and he was forced to let the thoughts go as he focused his mind on the task at hand. He blocked and countered blows left and right, expelling more energy than Athan did in his defensive moves.

Yshomatsu was gifted with the pleasure of smashing a cultist's nose with the palm of his hand. However the feeling was short lived as he felt a sharp pain slice through his side. One of them had turned to dirty fighting in a desperate last ditch effort by using a blade. The monk grasped at the wound, applying pressure as he dodged the following attacks.

He could feel the presence of the first cultist, blood gushing from his face. He toppled to the ground as Ysh jabbed at this throat, feeling the windpipe among other things snap. The victory was short lived as the monk's side step was too slow and the blade cut through his shoulder like butter. Followed closely by a series of quick shallow swings, the wise darker haired monk screamed out his frustrations. Pain threatened to lose Yshomatsu over the edge and onto the ground.

His body wanted to collapse into the fetal position but he held on with an iron will that felt like a fragile string. The cultist swung at him again, only this time Yshomatsu spun, twisting his aching bloody arms in between the cultist's. With the momentum he used the pale man's arm as an extension of his own body. The last cultist, whose attacks had easily been blocked, ran right into the swinging blade, his lifeless body splattered upon the ground in two places.

The monk finished the act by snapping the gripped arm, the cultist grunted his frustration, Ysh imagined an evil glare if the cultist had eyes to glare with. The move drained him of his last resolve and he collapsed to his knees. The cultist wiggled free from the monk's grasp, hugging his broken arm close to his body. Ysh sat upon his knees gasping for air, his mind wondered to all the good memories he had in his life. Mostly those while training Athan, although in truth the young man did just as much teaching as he had.

His fondest, no proudest memory was of the time Athan had been given his first solo mission, the look upon his face would be cherished forever, even in death. Yshomatsu sat there in a daze for a while, given the cultist enough time to recover. While he still had his broken arm against his chest the other arm retrieved his weapon, a plain blade with a wooden hilt. Slowly the cultist made his way to the defeated monk, an evil snarl upon his lips as an unseen force guided the blind man.

The candles around the man went out, yet the ones behind the hanging woman remained bright, created a halo effect around the woman no one could see. The pentagram drawn upon the ground began to glow.

The cultist reached Yshomatsu and let out a sinister hiss as he raised the blade above his head, quickly bringing it down. The defeated monk tilted his head at the sound and instantly knew what was going to happen.

An unknown force entered both tired and exhausted monks; they gasped and simultaneously took deep intakes of air. It felt like their bodies had been stuck by an electric bolt of power. Yshomatsu moved faster than ever, circling around behind the pale blind man. With all he had left the monk reached up and snapped the cultist's neck and tossed him to the side. The burst of energy quickly faded and Ysh felt the full force of his injuries assault his nerves, he collapsed to the ground and past out. The battle had been won and his student was safe or at least that's what he thought before darkness over whelmed him.

When the power forced itself upon the monks Athan had been struggling with an urge to open his eyes, something within him tugged at his will. He had been winning the tug of war but was overpowered with the rush of energy. His eyes shot open as the wave hit him and witnessed his mentor defeat the last cultist before falling to the group, out cold. But that wasn't what caught his attention; the blinding light was replaced with a sight he couldn't believe.

Athan's mouth hung open yet his dream turned to black. His mind reeled but couldn't continue the memory, it just wasn't there, replaced by darkness. As if Athan had blacked out at that moment in time. He sprang up right, wide awake and covered in a cold sweat. A chill ran up his spin and his body shook from it. His dream had been vivid as if it happened yesterday.

What troubled him was the black out, because he remembered recovering at the monastery with his mentor. How much time had passed between memories, what had happened in there after he opened his eyes, or seemingly more important the chained, hanging woman, what had become of her? Question assaulted his mind with no answers in sight.

After a while Athan gave up trying to remember, an unsettling feeling remained in his gut, but he ignored it and decided to carry out his day. Later on that night when it was time to sleep Athan focused on the memory. The part he could remember of the two of them recovering and drifted off to relive it.

Athan woke with a start, his vision blurry. In the bed next to him, Yshomatsu his mentor slept strung up with many bandages. The images he imagined from the fight were fresh on his mind, cultists swarming them and their best efforts to defend themselves. He lost his concentration when he heard a grown next to him. His mentor and good friend was waking up and it warmed his heart to see it.

Over the next two days the monks rested, their brothers in the Order attended to their every need. Warm soup and bread were served three times a day, different spices used randomly to keep their taste buds guessing. Something different was in the air, something about them. They didn't speak about it but subtle looks over the two days confirmed they both were thinking the same thing.

Yshomatsu had wounds that should have killed him and Athan had bruises but nothing too damaging. The thing that troubled Athan the most was, why he was in need of rest, sure the ordeal tired him but bruises shouldn't have kept him bed ridden for two days. Something happened after he opened his eyes that drained his body's strength. Never the less he shoved that uneasy feeling from his head, all that mattered was the two of them were safe and back at the monastery.

The thing that surprised everyone within the Order of monks was how quickly they were healing. Both were on the edge of death when they were found. Yshomatsu by physical means, Athan by unknown yet one of them had reached out within the Dream State and called for help. No one knew which one.

It was most noticeable with Yshomatsu, his open wounds were closing. A process that normally took months and it was happening within a week.

Brothers in the Order brought dinner in that night on the second day and the two monks devoured it while discussing how good it felt to be alive. One of them had said a joke and they both laughed. Yshomatsu laughed so hard it hurt and he accidently knocked over his drink. Athan reacted before anyone in the room realized what had happened, grabbing the cup in midair. He had moved faster than even he could see, everyone gasped, surprised by what happened. And the truth be told they both felt more alive than ever before.

Whatever had happened that night in the mountains had filled their lives with energy and power they had never imagined possible. With new found purpose the two discussed their need to test themselves once Yshomatsu was healed and able. And test themselves was an understatement.

The mentor's wounds--- the ones he should have died from--- took another week to fully heal. The moment they realized it they were out in the grass fields sparring with each other, beginning with simple sticks. Amazed at their own reflexes, the two didn't even come close to hitting each other. Before long they had an audience, the entire monastery had come out one by one to watch them. The last to arrive and possibly the oldest amongst them was the current Order's Elder, or their leader.

An hour passed before the Elder rose from his seated position, with the aid of those around him. He cleared his throat and spoke in that beyond wise voice, the kind everyone would stop any activity for the chance to hear it.

"You two have bonded together and I am proud to call you my students, however great it is to see you spar--- and believe me when I say it has a grace to it like wild animals working together on the hunt--- I believe everyone here would like to see a true challenge," There were many cheers, the elder spoke showing great respect and spoke the truth, everyone present did want to see more.

"Anyone willing and able to fight step forward," The Order trained in many aspects, fighting was just one of them. And even though they learned how to fight, it was more about peace than it was about fighting. Their martial arts were just that, art, a form of it anyways. However not everyone in the Order had training in martial arts, some were merely cooks, gardeners, book keepers or farmers. Basically the point is a lot of monks stepped forward but not all.

"Those of you that took a step starting with you," The elder pointed to a monk closest to him. "Every other man step forward again."

It wasn't a difficult task but it sure did take a while.

"Now those of you that stepped forward twice..." He paused for effect.

"Attack," He yelled out while chuckling. Forty monks charged at Yshomatsu and Athan, who honestly didn't have a clue what to expect. Even with their new found gifts the two looked at each other worried but they still smiled, it was just a big sparring match, a game if you would. Now remember forty monks charged into attack, there was still forty more standing by that had stepped forward, waiting for orders to attack.

Yshomatsu and Athanatos braced back to back, prepared to have fun and truly put their new so called skills to the test. What happened next was glorious, as the old saying goes.

Everybody was Kung-Fu fighting!

*****

In a dark underground room candle light flickered, as if fighting against the all-consuming darkness that wanted to swallow the room whole. At the center of the room a summoning circle was fading with time, having not been used in a while.

Within that circle lay a bunch of cushions that gave comfort to two beings atop them. A man with long golden hair and an unkempt beard spread across the cushions, a beautiful woman sat upon him, slowly riding him.

Bright orange orbs stared down at the man's glowing green eyes, both smiling at each other. The room stunk of sex, the couple had been going at it for longer than they could remember. They were held together by some magic that prevented harm from befalling them. That same magic prevented them from having any rational thought beyond their next orgasm.

For what seemed like ages the two continued to pound into each other, brief blackouts were the only break they could find, yet it couldn't stop the one that remained awake.

Anytime one of them gained any insight on their situation a presence would cloud their mind, filling their every thought of a red skinned demon. The presence invoked on them an over whelming wave of lust that drove them on in pleasant treatment for countless days.

The man for instance was having one of these moments. It was as if he was waking up from a dream, a dream he wasn't sure he really wanted to wake from. His body ached, every joint was sore beyond belief... yet he felt so good, the woman on top of him was giving him such pleasure.

Bree, he remembered her now. An innocent barmaid from a inn he stayed at who knew how long ago. Yet she was different, her eyes for one thing were large, bright and orange. Her open mouthed smile revealed pearl white and slightly pointed teeth. Her hair was still long and brunette but something twitched atop her head. What... are those two fluffy ears? What the hell was going on?

In a panic he grabbed her hips with intent to throw her off of him. Her arms were waving in the air as she twisted her hips like an exotic dancer. He couldn't help but glance at her bouncing tits, everything he saw was memorizing. It was like a dance meant to reduce his willpower to ashes.

It all happened so suddenly, he grabbed her hips and just before he threw her to the side something wrapped around his wrists. He had been too distracted admiring her body to realize what they were. By the time he looked down they had tightened, two fluffy tails, one around each of his wrists. Another tail waved hypnotically behind her.

Then it all came rushing back to him. Missing monks, he was tasked to find them and fell into a trap. A trap planned out by a cunning ancient being he didn't realize at the time was a succubus. Events played out and Bree had helped her gain her freedom.

He looked around the room, candle light flickered around them but the rest of the room was too dark to notice anything.

Her tails tightened their grip and he found himself in turn tightly gripping her hips, urging her on. His brief moment of clarity was threatening to be thrown to the wind, the mind between his legs quickly taking over.

Yshomatsu could even imagine seeing the succubus in his mind, looking as sexy as ever. The monk began to enjoy himself, flexing his lower body as his hands brought her down hard. His glowing eyes glazed over as he gave in to the coming orgasm.

Speaking of orgasms Bree's body tingled in a series of small rabid explosions as a connection she didn't even know she had opened in her mind's eye. Meridiana was contacting her for the first time since she departed the area.