Succubus Inquisition Ch. 07

The innkeeper stood there without words, expecting the corpse to lash out at any second. Finally the pointed eared man turned to Arn and opened his mouth. Arn was unconscious against some crates of food, bleeding out. Whatever Sigmi was about to say could wait as the man rushed out of the storage room to seek help.

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Blurry vision revealed a dark tunnel with flickering light from a distant fire. Confused and wounded, he reached out with shaking hands as his weak legs moved him slowly forward. Breathing heavy, he couldn't hear anything else, with the pounding of his heart echoing in his head.

Fright painfully filled his chest as he realized it wasn't his heavy breathing. The armored man turned to the right. A shadowy form twice his height stood facing him, its shoulders heaving with each deep breath. The flickering light reflected off golden eyes and yellow teeth - sharp, deadly teeth.

The shadowy figure lunged forward into the light with a horrid snarl. The man's breath caught in his throat as he felt those sharp fangs dig into his flesh.

Arn woke with a start, covered in sweat. His heart beat thundered dangerously within his chest as he struggled to breathe.

A young woman with long golden hair quickly came to his aid. Delicate hands pressed down lightly on his chest, pushing him back down.

"Shh, it's okay, everything is okay, you are safe. Lay back down, sir." Her voice barely registered with his pulse consuming all his hearing. She kept pushing until he stopped resisting. Wet flesh touched the cold, damp pillow, snapping him back to reality.

The last thing he remembered was fighting a horrid humanoid rat. Nothing else. He couldn't recall how that had ended, although his body throbbed from the many wounds he suffered. Arn patted down his wet flesh, finding no wounds.

"Calm down, it's okay, you've been healed. You've just had a nightmare." Her velvet voice soothed his worries. It had an undertone to it that seeped into his very soul. The hand on his chest glowed with a golden light. It faded from her palm as she lifted the hand from his body.

Arn's breathing changed as he drifted off to a pleasant sleep.

Sunlight warmed his face when he finally stirred again. Briefly aware of low whispers around him. An eye opened slightly to look out at the burly and unfocused world. Sigmi stood at the door speaking to the young woman. Yet he couldn't make out every word.

The thin man thanked the healer for her aid as they both noticed Arn wake with a groggy groan.

"It's good to see you among the living again," the pointed eared barkeep said softly. The golden haired woman placed her palm upon his forehead and smiled.

"The fever has gone down. How are you feeling?" she asked.

Arn simply smiled, captivated by her features. Thin lips, small nose and high cheekbones. But her golden eyes held his attention. They shined with the same golden glow he had seen upon her palm.

He felt refreshed and healthy, yet words refused to come to him. The woman appeared to understand as her genuine smile widened. She stood back up and spoke with a heavenly voice.

"He's going to be just fine. His body just needs more rest." Sigmi nodded and came to his side as the woman took her leave.

"You gave me quite the scare. We're still mopping up the blood. That thing you found has given me nightmares. I can't imagine how you felt when it still breathed." Sigmi sat down in the chair beside his bed as Arn's eyelids closed, before he gave a start. His body refused to function as he attempted to sit up.

"You heard the lady, you need rest."

"If this is going to happen daily, I'll have to start charging you, Sigmi..."

The barely spoken words hardly met Arn's ears as darkness once again consumed him, and he slipped back to sleep. Quietly Sigmi stepped out of the room. The treasure hunter's dreams haunted him as he twisted and turned for the next few hours.

Once again his dreams were filled with an army of undead standing motionless in a field. This time he knew it was nothing but a dream. Yet it still unnerved him because it felt so real.

When he finally woke up he felt... Alive. No better way to explain it. His body ached, and everything still felt injured even though he had been healed.

After getting dressed in a set of new linens and a tunic he headed down to the bar. Things were different. The place wasn't packed full of drunks. Empty save a few quests. Sigmi came out of the back room and his grim expression turned to a smile.

"Arn, you're up! How are you feeling?"

"Like I got mawed by a giant rodent." The thin man's smile faded as he looked around but those few present paid no attention to them.

Arn sat down at the bar and Sigmi leaned in to whisper.

"People have started to go missing, the whole town's spooked. I have half a mind to pack everything and run. This inn has been in my family for generations. So that's no easy thing for me to say. You should move on, friend, and get far away from here."

Arn looked at him thoughtfully, yet sadly. "I dropped something very dear to me down there. Where's my armor?"

"Leave it, best forget it and move on. You barely made it out against just one of those . . . things." Arn gave a stern look and Sigmi folded. "I sent your gear to be repaired for you, it's the least I could do for sending you there."

The thin man had a plate of roasted meat brought for Arn. With one look at the meal he looked up at Sigmi with a raised eyebrow.

"Pheasant." They both laughed as the thin man continued. "I've decided not to prepare the rodent meat after seeing the larger fiend. That thing had more in common with humans than I'd like to admit."

"Fought like a feral beast nonetheless. Caught me completely off guard. I had expected more dog sized rats."

"So you're really going back down?"

Arn gave a nod as he bit into the roasted pheasant.

"I don't pray often to the gods, but I will for you tonight." Sigmi raised his glass as Arn gave a half-smile in return, and raised his own.

Before Arn headed to the blacksmith he visited the stables to check on Stormbolt. His noble steed couldn't have been happier to see him and appeared to dance in his stall. The sight brought a big smile to Arn's face as he lightly scratched the horse's neck. Stormbolt nuzzled his large head against Arn before the treasure hunter wrapped both arms around his companion's neck.

"Don't worry boy, I haven't forgotten about you. I just have to retrieve my sword and we'll be off." One last scratch before he headed for the blacksmith. Sigmi had boasted on the man's craftsmanship and said he had paid for everything. In truth Arn hadn't visited a true blacksmith before. His armor had been put together by the monks to protect him on his travels. It had served him well and he had no desire for any other armor. Yet the thought of visiting a true blacksmith that earned his craft by years of apprenticeship and hard work intrigued his interest.

The town streets weren't as busy as he remembered upon arriving. It gave him a chill as he recalled that horrifying dream, not to mention the fiends that lurked beneath the streets. The building cast vast shadows over the street as the sun reached the peak of its rise. Every shadow resembled its own hideous monster. Fear caught in his throat for a moment before it passed. Arn had nothing to fear walking out in broad daylight. Or so he hoped.

The blond haired man passed the Mossy Log tavern and kept walking until he saw a large sign swinging in the wind. An anvil marked the sign, a symbol and tool of the blacksmith same as a sword and shield was considered the symbol of a solider. He approached it with his mind back on his armor. The fight against the humanoid fiend had caused great damage to his body. Enough that he didn't dare think of how much the armor had suffered.

The large wooden door took all his strength to force open. If it weren't for the loud banging of a hammer he would have thought the door had been boarded and the smith had closed up shop. A few drops of sweat ran down his face as the door gained momentum and swung open. The man standing beside the forge swinging his hammer onto an anvil shocked Arn. But otherwise explained the large and heavy door.

The blacksmith had to have been two meters, or more than six feet, tall, and fatter than anyone he'd ever seen. Sigmi had said his name was Robert. Arn found himself wary of calling out the name in fear of getting it wrong. This wasn't a man bred for war or long marches. The craft became the man. Large yet tough, slow yet powerful. Each downward strike echoed in Arn's ears, sending a jolt through him.

The man's long black hair had been slicked back with grease, sweat and dirt. Every exposed part of his body had a layer of filth caked on it. From the looks of things he had been working all day, his whole body and soul poured into his work. And the items hanging around the room revealed the skill he had mastered. All types of armor in various phases were strung around. Even blades were racked up, each different from the last.

There were few items of the same design but those that were, were expect replicas of their twins. The huge man turned his head and greeted Arn with a toothy grin as he called out over the blazing fire. The black stubble on his face blended in with the dirt.

"Be right with ya, lad!" No doubt he had felt the breeze which felt like the howling winds of winter compared to the heat within the room. The metal the smith hammered went back to the flames as the large man turned towards Arn with a friendly smile. "What can I do fer ya?"

"Sigmi says he paid to have my armor repaired?"

It only took a few moments before understanding flashed before the smith's eyes. "Yes! The chain mailed leather. A fine design for armor not made by a metal smith."

Robert moved much faster than Arn thought possible, from one end of the shop to the other. Arn's surprise didn't go unnoticed, as the large man laughed. Arn knew the armor hadn't been masterfully crafted but he had gotten accustomed to it nonetheless.

"My brothers at the monastery made it for me." Robert nodded his understanding.

"My condolences, I heard what became of the place and those within its walls. The armor came to me greatly damaged but I could still see its worth. Had you been wearing armor made by lesser men you wouldn't be standing here, if I dare say so myself. Whispers have spread of the horrors beneath our streets." The smith grabbed a set of armor off a rack. Arn scarcely recognized it. He had expected leather patching to repair the tears and new mail rings in various places.

The armor brought to him looked brand new. Robert had proven the mastery of his craft to a man he hadn't even met. The leather had been boiled with added plates between its layers. Mail rings protected the weakest points around the joints.

"No piece leaves this shop without my approval. No matter the cost agreed upon."

Arn began to put the armor on and found it to be easier than before. It fit snugly but comfortably. He bent and twisted, this way and that. It felt new, looked new but didn't creak like new leather.

"To your liking, lad?"

"Y-yes, didn't expect this honestly, was expecting leather patches." The laugh Robert made hurt Arn ears as he bellowed out, almost doubling over. By the time he stopped his entire face shined bright red.

They briefly talked as the smith went back to work. The man spoke of having to put plans on hold for an apprentice because of the recently troubles. Arn began to think on his lost sword, face scrunched in thought.

"You're not fixing on going back below are ya? You're lucky to be alive, that armor had been shredded."

"Yeah I might have need of your service again." Arn was joking, but Robert didn't laugh. "I just need to retrieve my sword."

"Blast. Take any you see here, it's yours! I'll be packing up shop soon to return to Legion lands. Too much weird stuff has been happening here."

"Thank you but I can't. That blade has sentimental value to me."

"Take one anyways, I can't just let you walk to certain death unarmed." Arn tried to turn him down again but Robert insisted.

The blond haired man left the shop with a new sheath attached to his belt, a sharp short sword within it. Arn had tried to pay the man but the smith wouldn't hear of it. Robert said anything that didn't sell before he left had the chance of being stolen on the trip. The treasure hunter couldn't believe how nice the smith had been.

Arn strolled into the tavern with a purpose, eyes set on the back storage room as he walked past those drinking themselves into a stupor. Sigmi looked up from the bar, pausing in his cleaning. The blond treasure hunter kept on walking as if he didn't see them. Before he could slip down the sewer hatch Sigmi grabbed his arm, pulling on it.

"What are you doing, this is madness!" The barkeep pleaded with him to forget the sword.

"I'm honor bound to safe guard the blade. I need to retrieve it."

Sigmi was shocked and speechless. The thin man just stood there as Arn disappeared into the dark. Reluctantly the barkeep closed the hatch and went back to work with a heavy heart.

The familiar stench reached Arn's nostrils like a wall of filth. It felt like he had left his world behind and walked into another. Before the smell would have given him a feeling of nausea. It settled on his tongue. He recoiled and spit in an attempt to rid himself of it. But his determination didn't allow the stench to linger on his mind. He pushed through it, moving onward.

The light from the torch he had lit upon descending into the depths allowed him to see. With caution he took each step slowly. He hoped to arrive without detection, knowing full well that the torch would be the first thing any creature would see. Deep down, he prayed for another source of light so he could toss his own into the sewage.

The closer he got to his destination the more he felt that small hope diminish. Fear replaced it, as if a boulder was slowly crushing his body. When he reached the area he dropped the sword he searched the area. He couldn't locate it, despite searching everywhere. Finally frustration got the better of him and he continued onward, ever closer to that large chamber where he first spotted the humanoid rodents.

His attempt to keep quiet proved easier thanks to the mossy, filth-covered walkway. The chamber came into sight as Arn ducked down low, lowering the torch into the sewage. Darkness closed in on him and he froze. The fear gripped him like a giant hand, squeezing his chest. His eyes even played tricks on him as creatures spawned in the black space around him. Startled and shaking, his body refused to move despite his instincts screaming at him to run.

Monsters roared overhead with rows of razor sharp teeth. Arn ducked his head under his arms, closing his eyes tight. Nothing moved. The monster never existed. Eventually the treasure hunter got his breathing under control. Slowly his eyes opened to peek out into the dark abyss. Shapes formed but this time they weren't formed by his imagination. It took time but his vision adjusted to the environment. The large chamber revealed itself in shades of gray and black.

That's when he heard it, crunching and snarling low rumbles. In the center of the chamber two of the gruesome beasts were hunched over chewing away at flesh he couldn't recognize. To him it looked like they were eating a dark shadow. A shining object caught his attention behind them. On top of a type of stone altar sat his sword. They must have found it where he had dropped it. That meant they had some intelligence after all, unlike the dog-sized rats.

If he could just get to the blade while they were distracted, he could strike with the element of surprise. Arn managed to take two steps before that fear reared its ugly head again and he froze. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. What if he walked into a lair of thousands?

The thought felt insane and he reasoned with himself that there couldn't be that many. A thousand of them would have devoured the entire town. The food they'd require would force them upon the world like a flash flood. Yet reports of missing people had only just begun, few and far between. That meant they were starving and venturing out, but only a few at a time. Arn had fought one and killed it, almost at the cost of his own life, and here stood two more.

He could end them with a single swing of his sword. . . If only he could reach it.

He took a deep breath, and courage filled his heart. Another step and his fear threatened to overwhelm him. He fought it down and took another step. With each step he closed in on the sword, fully aware of getting closer to them as well. Each step felt like it echoed around the chamber. But that echo was only his heart pounding in his ears. Before he knew it he was within reach of the blade. Arn out stretched an arm to -

A loud ear-piercing scream stopped him in his tracks. The hairs on his neck stood up as he slowly turned. The two hunched over were confused, sniffing the air. Arn had a clear view of their meal now. A bloody carcass that had once been a man. They had been gnawing on it for hours, most of the flesh gone or torn. If they hadn't spotted him -

Behind them he saw an emaciated rat standing where he had entered. It held a small torch in its bony hand. It looked in his direction with intense hunger. White foam drooled down onto the floor. The thing's appearance caused bile to rise from Arn's stomach. He spit it out and the two hunched over snapped their heads to look up at him. The fear he felt gripped him again, squeezing until he couldn't breathe.

The emaciated one pointed at him and squealed, spittle and foam flew out from its snout. The two with blood all over their faces snarled and pounced. Arn gasped in fright but managed to remember his blade. Athanatos entrusted it to him to be used only when honorable and justifiable. Well this moment definitely met that criteria. Courage surged within him as he spun, and grabbed the hilt. With the momentum he kept spinning. The blade cut through the air.

The closest giant rodent's out stretched arm got a thin line of red. For a moment the rat paused and looked confused. Blood welled up on its arm before spraying out. The arm fell to the ground as the pain registered in the rodent's eyes. Painful grunts escaped its mouth as it grasped the stump, pulling the arm back against its body before fleeing the room with a squeal.

Arn's swing went wide as the other creature plowed into him, sending him flying backwards. His back slammed into the ground with an echoing thud. His arm flung out and his grip loosened. Yet before the sword could spring free, his grip tightened. A grunt of pain, frustration and determination bellowed from deep in his chest. Pain shot up his spine as he took a deep breath. The tackling rat rose, opening its mouth for a deathly kiss to Arn's exposed throat.

With blurred vision and ears ringing Arn saw double as he squeezed his grip and screamed out. The bloody snout closing in stopped before its entire head was removed from its neck.

The world spun as the wave of dizziness slowly faded. It took effort to push the large body off to the side, blood oozing out of the wound. Arn rose, panting for breath. He stared at the third and final humanoid beast. For a moment it looked like the emaciated creature's body shook in fright but its eyes stared at him with intense hunger.

The small torch's light revealed patchy gray fur covering a sickly looking body. The runt of the litter. Easy target. . . Suddenly a dozen pairs of eyes appeared behind the runt. Orange and green orbs reflecting off the torch. The twelve new comers' inched forward, stepping into the light. Their bodies were equally disgusting as the runt's was, with varying colors or gray, brown and black.