Path of Evil Ch. 04 Pt. 01

This was inspired by the Path of Evil Module for NWN2—little besides character names and abilities are used.

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The story thus far: All three of the factions within the tower have been subdued, or destroyed. Major players in all three somehow turned out to be gorgeous female monsters. Thurlith had some fun with all of them, however, the keep is generally in bad shape and the surrounding countryside is poor, infested with monsters and has essentially no wealth.

Getting everyone set up for the night was more trouble than might have been expected. The few surviving drow and their larger number of former slaves did not care for the undead, and rather instinctively attempted to destroy them (partly for revenge, partly to establish the pecking order among the servants of the adventurers. The undead were too stupid to avoid even obvious traps. But he was eventually able to get the undead down below, Fillra Baenre in with Jorra in the quarters she'd staked out as his future harem. Larel had positioned the undead to keep out anything that tried to wander in from the Underdark and posted a few of the more light-insensitive of her warriors topside to start plugging up the hole in the curtain wall and keep an eye out for anything that might come out of the forest.

"Any luck?" Thurlith asked Caracin, having found her in a rare moment when she was outside of the throne room, wherein she was spending her time ripping screams and a distinct lack of information from the devil she'd captured.

"Not yet. But he will speak eventually." The wizard said coldly.

"Indeed. I'm going to head out shortly, get things moving. I'll need you to keep everything here from going to crap. I'll be bringing back a lieutenant to run things while the rest of us are...working. I'll be clearing the road east to the city of Narito, so if you need anything from a city, get a list together before I leave."

"Got it." She said, and headed back in to the room, which, despite being constructed of solid stone, did not in fact muffle the devil's screams.

Then he hunted down the others. Kvas was dispatched through the northern forest to make contact with their allies in the thieves' guilds of the west, to ensure that trade going through their road would not be disrupted.

Mu'tasin was sent back down the western road to retrieve his clan to act as muscle and Tan was sent through the southern forest to make contact with their allies in Calimport and the related cities, to ensure trade would flow. And, of course, all three of them were to thin out the population of dangerous creatures so that, again, trade could flow.

Trade led to gold, which he would need, if he was to take his place amongst the rulers of nations. Gold on a scale beyond that an adventurer could accumulate and in rather smoother income flows.

He himself would take the eastern road, insuring the road to Narito was open, as well as deciding where his borders would be and who he would be responsible for protecting and who he would be responsible for protecting them from.

Tan wasn't thrilled. The tiefling wanted every waking moment to be spent pursuing the parts of the artifact he wanted Thurlith to reassemble for him. The sorcerer convinced the ranger by arguing that a base of operations would let them set up a more ordered search and mean that they would put word out that anyone who found a piece should bring it to them, instead of having them running around at random, trying to stumble over the damn things. Besides, they knew people in the Twisted Rune in Calimport. He could check in with them and see if the society of undead magic users had found anything.

Kvas was thrilled. He was one of the best thieves around and he liked to hang out with his own kind. Especially those of his own kind who were less well equipped than he was. Hopefully, he'd deliver the message, spend way too much gold in the local brothels and not start a war with any of the underworld groups.

Mu'tasin was pretty neutral about the whole thing. He wanted his clan with him. It had been enough trouble to claim control of the damn thing, after all. And being clan chief meant he got all the orcish pussy he could stand. But he had new orcish pussy he hadn't finished breaking in yet. And besides, traveling meant there'd be some time when he wasn't fucking. Though at least he'd probably be killing stuff. He was never any good at delayed gratification. But Thurlith had led him to big wealth and wet holes. So he'd do it.

Caracin probably wouldn't do much of anything, but since she had the power to kill anyone left in the tower, she didn't really have to. She just had to be the threat hanging over their heads to keep them from killing each other until he got back with someone he could put in charge, who would actually pay attention. And who he could leave behind without cursing their absence from the front lines.

Or at least, that was the plan.

A few words were enough to get Larel and Afa working desperately, trying to demonstrate that they were the best of his soon-to-be-lieutenants by getting the most work done during the time he was gone. Jorra was more trouble. She wanted to come with him. Given that she could disguise herself as...anyone or anything, it was hard to come up with a reason to leave her behind. Especially as he didn't particularly want to, at least not after he'd finished leering at the bounty of cleavage the succubus's skimpy outfit displayed. She appeared to be able to make skimpy black outfits appear, essentially at will. Not exactly a top tier power, but a fun one, at least to watch.

He gathered a few supplies and they left before the noon meal. Jorra at his side, wearing the guise of a half-elven woman, dressed in skimpy brown robes, swaying at his side. Though she didn't carry any weapons, she matched his aura of threat quite nicely. And for all that she was merely his consort, she didn't flinch from him. Quite the reverse, in fact. She was drawn to the power that the sorcerer possessed. More than the devil she had served, which wasn't saying much, except that he was human. That meant mortal, which meant one day he would die and that soul, that power, might be bound to someone else. An ambitious succubus, for instance. But until then, that power would draw her, draw any succubus to him like a metal to a magnet.

That was her nature.

Thurlith was disguised as well, cloaked in illusion to make him look like an ordinary traveler, more because he was looking to bait any potential bandits out than for fear of being recognized. This was far from the places where his name was known, let alone where his mere appearance was sufficient to identify him as ought but a mage. But even that would have been enough to send the bandits here scurrying deeper into the woods, looking for easier prey.

Or perhaps not, when the beautiful Jorra was sashaying by his side, busty form barely contained by rags.

Indeed, the group of bandits that burst from the woods less than an hour into their journey didn't even bother with the storm of arrows they usually would have begun an assault with, instead yelling jovial insults to each other regarding who would get to fuck the pointy eared bitch first.

They were promptly massacred.

Jorra and Thurlith followed their really obvious tracks back to their camp and cleansed the last of them from the face of his lands. Then they continued onwards.

Kvas began his journey next, mostly to get himself away from the quarrelling lieutenants before he got sick of them and did something that would piss Thurlith off. He massacred his way through wolves, bugbears and giant spiders and a couple of wandering undead. He was no ranger, preferring byways to treetops, but he could find things to kill wherever he went.

That was his nature.

Mu'tasin paused for a quick fuck with one of the orcish whores. Then he headed out. They'd mostly cleared the road on the way in, so he was able to travel more quickly than Kvas. After a few hours of travel, he came across a small band of halflings attempting to defend their wagon against a gaggle of goblins who were assaulting it. He slaughtered the goblins and let the halflings go, without molesting either of the small, but busty women. It would have led to trouble with Thurlith and Mu'tasin punched down, or level, never up.

That was his nature.

Tan was the last to leave, he'd watched Caracin tormenting the devil until even he was bored with the torture. Then he'd headed out, bow slung over one shoulder. No one saw him go, or heard word one from him of how his trip went.

That was his nature.

The nature he passed through however became the most peaceful of all the lands west of the keep.

After almost seven hours on the road, with only a brief pause for a meal (sandwiches for him, cum for her), Thurlith came to the village that was near the outskirts of the forest. Its inhabitants were split between small tenant farmers who theoretically owed their loyalty to the master of the keep and foresters, who theoretically owed their loyalty to no one. Both were actually loyal to whomever would keep the forest monsters from eating them.

The inhabitants were big, big in a way Thurlith associated with the barbarians of the north. Built at one and a quarter scale, with long blonde hair on the men and women alike. They were all densely muscled from lives of hard work. None carried weapons. Or, at least, none of them carried traditional weapons, even the foresters lacked bows. But farming requires instruments which can, when powered by muscles that have worked the land ten hours a day for twenty years, rip through plate armor like tissue paper. But he read fear in the downcast eyes of the villagers and the general shuffling, flinching and shifting eyes, not merely from Thurlith, but from the buxom woman at his side, who he would have expected to draw stares and drooling.

Something was very wrong here.

That was an opportunity. He couldn't blend into this crowd, he was too short, his hair too dark, and he wasn't sufficiently beaten. So he didn't try. Instead, he wrapped a possessive arm around the 'half-elven' wench, and stopped the closest person to him. A tall young man, damn near bursting with rage, barely covered by fear. A few questions got him directions to the inn where he could eat. And it had gotten the lad's eyes off the dirt and deep into Jorra's tits.

It was early evening. Dark enough that farmers could justify getting out of the fields by arguing that it wasn't safe to keep working and too early for them to have either drunk or worked themselves into unconsciousness. They were flowing into the bar that he was heading for. A handful of other folks were scattered amongst the blonde peasants. Easily distinguished by being shorter, having darker hair, leather armor and things that might pass for weapons in a world without magic.

The bar was tightly packed, but the peasants had been beaten badly enough to stay out of the way of anyone who was willing to stand up straight and claim some space. There were ripples in the crowd, something that scared the shit out of everyone, far more than a pair of unknown travelers. Thurlith moved against the tide, forcing his way towards the roaring fire that was on one wall, near the long bar that covered the entire north face of the tavern. A slender woman with darker skin than the locals was cowering on the floor. Her skin was light cinnamon, wild, unkempt hair was black and her eyes were heavily hooded and darker brown than her skin. She might have been attractive if she had not been so badly abused and so thoroughly terrified.

One of the warriors was standing in front of her, holding a poker. The tip had clearly been heated in the fire. The point waved in front of terrified eyes while the rest of the crowd looked away. Except the large blonde woman behind the bar, who looked on with...satisfaction? Or merely gratitude that it wasn't her or hers? Either way, everything about this situation screamed not that this was a demonstration, or even a way of letting off rage after something had gone wrong. This was the casual cruelty of men with nothing to do, men bored out of their minds.

"Pathetic." Thurlith said, voice cutting through the murmur of people desperately not trying to draw attention to themselves.

The woman holding the poker spun around, ignoring the terrified woman, who was now at her back, so certain was she that her would-be-victim would not stab her in the back. "WHAT?" She thundered, drawing her fellow warriors to her, through the throng and driving the crowd of peasants out of the bar at an impressive rate. They weren't fearful of being caught in the battle, they were fearful of being around the warriors once their blood was up. Only the bartender didn't vanish into the night, though even she shrank back, finding business at the either end of the bar.

"I said, it's pathetic." Jorra slid behind him, pressing a delicious ass against his, watching the approaching warriors, hands rising as if they were clawed and ready to strike. Which they weren't, but could be, in a minute. "Attacking the powerless, who have done nothing to you? Pathetic. I see no reason to stand here and watch in silence."

The hard eyed woman stepped forward, lifting the poker so it hovered before his eyes. "You don't have to see anything, ever, shit-for-brains."

He smiled. "Have you ever heard of Thomas the Kitten-Slayer?" He asked.

The woman rocked back, then actually stepped back, confused. One of Thurlith's hands made a subtle motion, casting a simple cantrip. Words were spoken next to Jorra's ears. "Charm the rest of them."

She smiled and stretched like a cat, drawing the eyes of the warriors to her curves as she stretched out her mind to touch the minds of the lust-filled warriors ogling her and began to twist them. She was a succubus, charming her prey was a natural ability and one by one the warriors, six men and two women, fell under her spell.

"No." The poker-wielder admitted, not noticing, as Thurlith was between her and the stretching demoness.

"Of course not. Do you know why not?"

"Because you just made him up, you lunatic?" She suggested.

"No. Well, yes, but the other reason you've never heard of him is because slaying kittens? Not a notable victory. It can be done by any child with a sack. What you're doing here is not noticeably more difficult. Strength is demonstrated by mastering mighty challenges. Or people." He added, after a moment's thought, hand slapping down hard on Jorra's ass, behind his, causing the succubus to squeal in surprise and pleasure, though she never stopped in her work of enchanting the other warriors.

"Wrong. Strength is being able to do whatever you want, whenever you want, because no one can stop you." She said, turning back towards the woman and pulling back for a stroke.

Thurlith grabbed her elbow as it pulled back. "Then you aren't strong." He said coldly.

She slammed her elbow back against his gut and swore as it bounced off. It was like elbowing plate armor. "Kill them." She howled.

"You don't want to kill me, and him, right?" Jorra simpered at the other warriors.

Their weapons were already drooping towards the floor, though, at least for the men, other things were on the rise. Thurlith pulled hard and the woman rolled towards the bar, coming to her feet with surprising agility for a woman in full leather armor and, still, holding a red hot poker. She flicked the poker towards his face like a rapier.

He caught the point and smiled as it didn't burn him. "Sometimes strength is innate, sometimes it is brought out through training and experience. I like to think most of mine is the latter. But if you go back far enough in my family history, you find a red dragon. Flames aren't going to hurt me." Neither was any other element, not with the mystical equipment he was wearing, but there was no reason to admit that.

Her eyes went wide as she began to realize how thoroughly she was outclassed. He ripped it from her hands, grateful for his mystically enhanced strength. Her mouth opened to respond to his philosophical meandering, only to stop, because his hand was tight around her throat. The other hand tossed the poker into the fireplace.

"Jorra, send your friends to Afa." Thurlith commanded.

"Aw...you don't let me have any fun." Jorra complained.

"Night's not over yet."

She smiled at his back. "You want to go down the road to the keep and find a woman called Afa. Tell her you're there for any...service she desires. I think you'll be...surprised at the...uses she puts you to." She managed to make it sound as if they'd be spending their days fucking beautiful women, maybe even beautiful her, not serving as walking bloodjugs for the vampire.

The charmed warriors left at a rapid trot.

"Now, I believe there was some mention of fun for me?" Jorra asked.

"And what about us?" The bartender asked, powerful hands on meaty hips. She was a big woman. A little plumper than the rest of the absurdly, almost hungrily, thin woman he'd seen in the village, her pretty face was rounder and her blue eyes harder than any he'd yet seen in the village. "They were our only protection. Or are most of us to die so you can find the strong amongst us?" Her voice was acid.

"Of course not. This is my land and making you strong will be my job. The dead are, definitionally weak. Speaking of, my dear," he glanced at Jorra, "I think it's only fair to give you a treat since I had you send them to Afa." He pulled the woman in close and wrapped an arm around her throat and another around her stomach, pinning her against him, facing the disguised succubus. "I thought you might like a taste?"

Jorra smiled as she realized what he was suggesting. She swayed forward, her beauty, lust and magic pulled the, entirely straight, woman's eyes to barely covered breasts, glimpses of long legs and ruby lips parting to reveal a luscious tongue and white teeth.

The warrior tried to pull free, though it wasn't clear whether she wanted to lunge towards the approaching succubus, or flee. Soft lips pressed against the woman's mouth as she opened it, either to moan, or scream. Jorra pulled at the woman's life and soul, trying to suck it out her mouth. She may have been a weak, sadistic bitch, but she had enough will to cling to her soul, resisting the succubus's efforts. Jorra smiled and pressed her busty body against the slim, leather clad warrior's body and strong fingers slid in through gaps in her armor to find breasts, nipples and an already wet sex.

The warrior gasped into the succubus's mouth, and distracted, her will faltered. Jorra ripped at her soul and life as her fingers nipped at a hard nipples and a nubbin that begged for rough caresses. Then it was two kisses.

Three. The woman lightened in Thurlith's arms, as if she was being drained into the succubus from her mouth.

Five. The woman gave a scream of terminal ecstasy, that was mostly muffled by Jorra's mouth and collapsed to dust, leaving Jorra standing there, licking her lips and meeting Thurlith's eyes hungrily. He smiled.

"You, bartender. Go get your leaders. Tell them to gather in front of the bar to tell me what they need protection from."

The bartender was a hard woman, for all that she looked soft, but even she was shaken by the...consumption of the warrior who'd scared the shit out of her. She fled.

Thurlith turned back to the woman on the ground. She'd given up cowering and was lying deathly still, an instinctive reaction, hoping the predator would not see her.

"I meant what I said."

"What?" Jorra asked his back.

"Strength can be learned. Teach her." Thurlith explained.

"What are you—Oh, ho! You want her in your harem, sir? I can do that."

"Indeed I do, but, a word to the wise, I have plans for my harem."