tagNonHumanYshomatsu and the Succubus Ch. 03

Yshomatsu and the Succubus Ch. 03


(I would like to thank Lazyhobo for an excellent editing job and very helpful comments)


He opened his eyes, his vision blurry and unfocused. He was back in the waking world. The first thing he noticed when he realized he was awake, was the fact that his lower robes were soaked. He let out a sigh, I dirtied myself, he thought. He tried to move his hands, but they were shackled. He jolted up to a seated position, now fully awake.

"What's going on," he called out.

"Good morning... Monk," replied a man's voice from the shadows, the voice full of hate. "Quite the dream you had, disgusting I might add." The man took a step into the light of the dying bonfire.

"You! What are you doing here," he demanded.

"I'm placing you under arrest, for the assault of his majesties' men. You'll be coming back to town with me... to be hanged," said the Knight.

'Trouble follows you everywhere, doesn't it lover.' The thought entered his mind as if his own.

A puzzled expression filled the Monk's face, "No, this can't be happening." He raised his shackled hands to rub his temples.

"Did you really think you could get away with it?"

Yshomatsu looked up at the Knight for the first time, "Shut up, I wasn't talking to you. Your affairs mean nothing to me Knight."

A flash of rage took over this man clad in armor as he closed his fists. "I want to know how you bested my men blindfolded and how you created that blinding light when I cut it from your face," he demanded.

"You fools made so much noise; I didn't even break a sweat." He looked back down to his robes and sighed with disappointment in his failure.

"Tell me about the light or I will beat you to an inch of your life and cut out those eyes."

"With a face like yours, I wish I was blind, do your worst."

With that the Knight lost his temper, striking his prisoner again and again with his fists. Blood flowed like a river down the Monk's face, yet he couldn't help but laugh. "Did I hit a nerve oh holy Knight," Yshomatsu laughed out.

The sounds of clanking armor could be heard down the cavern tunnel, the Knight's men had caught up. Swords drawn, ready for combat, "We're..." Their leader raised his hand to show he wanted silence.

"Secure the prisoner," he said to his men, before he kicked the Monk square in his chest.

The Monk let out a cough filled with blood as he violently slammed into the ground. A flash of white light filled his vision as his head cracked on a rock. His body knocked unconscious, but his mind's eye began to focus and clear the white light. A figure formed out of the light, Yshomatsu recognized her instantly.

The Succubus lay beside him; she rose up on her elbow into a sexy pose. A smile upon her demonic face as she licked her lips, 'Thinking of me in a time like this, naughty, naughty.' A shiver ran up his spine, bringing him back to reality.

He was being dragged out of the cavern and into the storm. The wounds on his face stung, he focused as much as he could to heal his face, just enough to stop the bleeding. The amount of focus required was difficult to achieve while being dragged.

Heavy snow and wind assaulted the mountain side with ever growing force. The dirt path was now covered in three feet of snow; creating a near impossible escape route from within the mountains.

In the brief moment while the Knight and his men were contemplating on the best way to proceed, Yshomatsu staggered to his feet. The stunning image of the demoness lingered on his mind as if placed there against his will.

The Knight stepped close to the edge of the cavern observing the storm. He recalled the slight landslide earlier and quickly thought of an idea. "Tie yourselves together; we'll go in two groups. Protect the men around you. Tread light and slow, there's no time to wait out the storm," said the Knight as he placed a make shift noose around the Monk's neck, "Just in case you try anything." He then tied the other end to his waist.

The Monk's bloody and bruised brow lowered into a hateful glare at the Knight. His intentions lost as that familiar voice entered his mind again. 'Wouldn't you rather be tied up by me, as I have my way with you?'

"Get out of my head," Yshomatsu screamed into the night sky.

"Shut up and lead the way prisoner," replied the Knight as he kicked the Monk forward out of the cavern and into the snow covered path. The Monk slipped to his knees, choking himself on the stretched robe around his neck. Once again he had to stagger to his feet, only this time gasping for breath. His hands desperately tried to grip around it to relieve tension. He took one step forward and begun the long and freezing cold journey back to town.

The Knight stepped out second, closely following his prisoner. Fifteen men in total were tied off in the first group. The second stayed behind in the cavern's warmth just a little longer. They weren't eager to journey back into the storm.

The wind howled and screamed at them as they slowly inched their way through the snow. Sight was limited to a few inches in front of their faces. Yshomatsu took each small step with the utmost care. A violent gust of wind slammed into his side, almost knocking his feet out from under him. He reached out quickly to grasp at anything to keep his balance. A handful of tree branches bent over by the thick snow filled his hand, saving him from a face full of freezing cold snow.

The Knight grabbed his shoulders to pick him back up to his feet and pushed him forward. "Keep moving," he said. For what seemed like an eternity they inched further down the mountain. They eventually came to a narrow part in the path. The snow masked the area from any markings or signs of the earlier landslide.

As his feet sunk into this patch of snow Yshomatsu could sense the difference in texture from the frozen dirt path. The Knight's men must have placed some tree logs down, he thought. The logs were coated in a layer of ice underneath the snow. A cruel smirk formed upon his lips as an Idea came to mind.

Once the Monk had stepped back onto frozen dirt he began to count his steps. After a few men passed over the area he made his move. He pretended to trip, grasping at his neck to prevent the robe from tightening. He yanked on the rope on his way down into the snow. The Knight and two more of his men were pulled forward into the snow beside him.

The few standing on the logs slipped on the layer of Ice underneath them. One man's feet slipped out from under him, crashing his face down into the ice. His limp unconscious body rolled off the cliff, hanging between the two men around him. Slowly they followed.

Screams could be heard from behind the Knight which caused him to turn. He quickly wiped the build up of fallen snow from his eye lids just in time to see the horror of his men's deaths. The men linked to him, fell over the cliff. "Grab on to something," he called out. Hoping it wasn't too late. The next closest man over the edge desperately clawed at the ground. Before they knew it, four men were hanging over the cliff, all screaming for their lives.

The mountain began to make cracking sounds, the inevitable sounds of an incoming avalanche. The last man in the long tied together group plummeted over the edge. Falling with such momentum that when he reached the end of the line, he whip lashed forward. The mere force of it pulled four more men forcefully off of the mountain.

Realizing it was too late, the frightened Knight called out for one of his men to cut the robe and save the rest of them. Everyone still on the path was too concerned with holding on for dear life to hear their orders. The others too busy flailing their limbs around as if they could fly to safety.

"Someone CUT the rope before we all die," yelled back the Knight. The whole line was slowly being dragged towards oblivion. In the panic all he could think was how horrible of an idea it was to tie everyone together. He regretted not taking a moment to clearly think. Perhaps it would have been wiser to wait out the storm, if only he had patience.

Next in line's feet hung over the edge as he was pulled out to his mid section. His hands had been dug into the snow, nails scrapping into the frozen ground. Blood trailed as he was dragged even closer.

Finally the second of the hanging men reacted, grasping his sword between his freezing fingers. He pulled it from his sheath and cried out as he selflessly swung, cutting the robe... below him... Seven men screamed in horror as they fell to their deaths.

With the weight lifted from their backs the remaining men pulled the two left hanging back onto the path. The one that hadn't quite fallen off the path sat with his back to the mountain. He brought his shaking hands up to be inspected. His gloves had been torn and his fingers were in bad shape from his desperate attempt.

In all the confusion Yshomatsu had untied his binds, lifted the makeshift noose from his neck and bolted down the path. In the thick layer of snow his efforts were clumsy and slow which made him exhausted quickly. His head throbbed from the Knight's earlier beating.

Once the remaining of his men were safe the Knight looked ahead to see his prize attempting to "run" away.

"To your feet men, our prisoner is getting away," the Knight ordered. A few of the men picked up branches and stones; anything around them. They began to throw everything at the Monk as the Knight tried to close the distance between them.

A stone whizzed past the Monk's ear, as his mind began to giggle at him. Confused Yshomatsu's movements were slowed. 'Nice try lover.' He shook his head in an attempt to force the being from his mind. 'You can't escape now, where's the fun in that?' An image of the Succubus bent over popped into his head. He was distracted for only a moment but a moment was all it took. The Knight jumped forward to tackle the Monk into the snow.

By this time the second group caught up with them. After hearing the distant screams they had stepped up their pace. Upon reaching the narrow log bridge they were greeted by the sight of their fellow soldiers. Many men were missing and the few left were seated in the snow.

The mountain had enough of their echoing screams carried by the harsh wind. Its cracking sounds increased. The mountain side exploded with activity as if the very gods knocked off its peak. Snow picked up speed as it plummeted down creating a massive avalanche.

It all happened so fast no one had any time to prepare. The avalanche crashed down upon everyone and continued on without a care in the world. Those few left in the first group hugged close to the mountain. The second group having still been tied together let out horrifying screams as they became one with the avalanche.


Eight armored men sat around a fire looking towards the mountains. They had been left behind to make sure their commanders target didn't sneak out from the path. The outskirts of the mountain storm howled, the horrifying sounds brought along with a cold gust of wind. The fire crackled, threatening to go out with the wind. One of them stabbed the fire with his sword to keep it lit.

Off in the distance they could see a group of frozen men coming their way. The group was covered in snow and ice from head to toe, their armor was stiff and hard to maneuver. To the untrained eye they looked like a pack of beasts. The sight was worthy of legend and myth. It had been hours since they left the warm shelter of the cavern.

"Sir Drake you're alive," called out one of the men seated around the fire. All of them rose to their feet and saluted their commander as he approached dragging the Monk behind him.

"D-D Don't just stand there fools," the Knight stuttered, his whole body shaking from the cold. Drake fell to his knees in a coughing fit, those behind him staggered closer to the fire. Those that had been seated around the fire rushed to the new comers' aid.

"Sir there's so few of you, what happened to everyone else?"

The Knight looked over to the Monk with pure hatred in his eyes. "They didn't make it. Only eight of us survived the storm, two more died on our way here." He sat down close to the fire, rubbing his arms with his hands in an attempt to get warm.

Yshomatsu laughed, he seemed unaffected by the cold. "Rub your chest not your arms, your body will take care of the rest." He told his captor, not realizing that he was helping his enemy. His thoughts were distracted by constant images of the sexy demoness. He secretly hated himself for being so foolish by thinking he could prepare himself to fight a succubus.

He sought to free his fellow Monks and had succeeded. However he couldn't help but think that they were beyond help. Left as sex starved husks. The price Yshomatsu was paying for freeing his comrades may have been too high. For the Succubus now seemed to hold a mental link to his mind. A link the Monk would do everything in his power to remove once and for all.

Sir Drake rose to his feet once he was warmed by the fire. "We have to get moving, the faster we get to a holding cell, the fewer chances he has to attempt another escape," the Knight said as he pulled the Monk to his feet and pushed him forward. Within the Knight's order there was a prophecy of sorts, or perhaps a warning. It detailed a mysterious being of great power appearing in the world, that being would be a foreshadowing to the end of mankind. Sir Drake believed in his heart that this was the being of great power, and he would put an end to it and be a hero to his king... his people.

The sun began to rise off in the distance as they made their way back to town. Drake was all too eager to get this over with. Once the Monk was safely behind bars he would prepare the gallows. The small town was adequate for the job, but Drake had little choice in the matter. The next closest town or city would be far too risky traveling to.

Along the way Drake told the horrifying tale of how the rest of his men had died in the storm, while the Monk had attempted to escape. Even though he didn't make another attempt, Yshomatsu kept his eyes open for any opportunities. He only allowed himself a few distractions from the Succubus, as if he had a choice in the matter. Once he even caught himself thinking of Bree.

The brief thought had caught the Succubus' attention. Although she didn't let the Monk know, she began to plot her entry into the waking world. Bree would come to be a blessing, she was sure. The Succubus stretched out her arms into the fluffy white clouds she laid upon in the dream realm, a shiver ran up her spin at the thought.


A week later the Knight walked through the dusty streets back in town. His heavy armor shined brightly in the morning light. All signs of the mountain storm had been washed off, yet it still caused a chill down his spine anytime he thought about it. Sir Drake entered a small building that had been the town's prison, holding cells were in the back of the old abandoned building. He didn't acknowledge the guards he had posted as he approached his prisoners cell. They saluted him as he past regardless.

The prison was in poor condition. Iron bars rusted, slowly falling apart as the years went by without use. All save one, in the back of the prison, where a single cell had been rebuilt. The Knight's men had thrown some dry hay into the cell for their Monk prisoner to sleep on. In the center of that cell sat Yshomatsu, with his legs crossed and his hands resting palms-up on his thighs.

Over the past week Sir Drake's prisoner had remained in that same seated position. Calmly meditating, it annoyed Drake immensely. The Monk's wounds, caused by the Knight and avalanche had completely healed in that small amount of time. As he closed in on the cell Drake kicked the iron bars and coughed to bring all attention onto him, as if the Monk didn't already feel his presence.

"The time to hang is approaching... Monk," he stated with a smirk upon his lips. The response he got was far from what he had wished to receive. Yshomatsu's eyes had remained closed, his face as calm as ever. Drake's patience was at an all time low, he had hoped to get a response. It would give him great pleasure to see remorse or even guilt on the Monk's face before he hung, or ever better a confession to being part of the order's prophecy.

He couldn't understand how the man on the floor before him had such great self-control or power. None of it made any sense to Sir Drake. While blind folded, the man had bested a whole squad of his men including himself on horseback. Yet any wound he had inflicted upon the man had vanished without a trace. Part of him wanted the man to hang and serve as an example; any resistance against the King's men would end in death. The other part of him wanted to study him, to find out if there was any truth to the rumored end of mankind. But without any cooperation from the Monk Sir Drake couldn't learn anything.

Sir Drake had considered feeding the Monk at first but second guessed himself. Why waste the food on someone you were just going to hang, he thought. The little food he had access to would be best used to keep his men happy. Each morning he would wake thinking that today would be the day he would break his prisoner, get answers to all his questions. However each day his wish was not granted, and he became angrier than the day before.

His thoughts were turning to torture, but the last thing he wanted to do was give the man a chance to escape, like he almost escaped on the mountain pass, even if it meant he would never learn the Monk's secrets, the least he could do was put an end to the prophecy. Sir Drake dragged his boots across the filthy floor impatiently as he paced back and forth. He took a few moments to study his prisoner. On the outside he looked completely calm, but there were small, hardly noticeable, signs of his distress. His skin for one was slowly going pale. His body was also showing signs of hunger, even if the Monk wouldn't admit it his body was slowly eating itself.

A few moments passed, Sir Drake cleared his throat, about to speak once again. He opened his mouth but at the last second he decided against it. Perhaps the silent treatment would shake things up for tomorrows visit, he thought. The Knight raised his head up high and turned to leave. An idea sparked within his mind. On his way out of the room he motioned for the posted guards to follow him, and to stand out of sight of their prisoner.

With the guards posted outside Sir Drake moved to the side of the building. There in the dusty alleyway the Knight waited, peering into the room through a crack in the wall. Since the cell was recently rebuilt there was no fear of escape without aid. Perhaps with a little patience the Knight would over hear a starving man blabbering to himself, revealing secrets.

Hours went by, the sun set before anything of note happened. Sir Drake sighed in disbelief. He had waited hours for the Monk to do anything, anything at all. Yet all he did was lay back into the dry hay and drift to sleep. The Knight cursed at himself for letting another day be wasted.


Days went by for Yshomatsu as he sat in the small cell meditating, hoping... no wishing that an opportunity would present itself to him. The Knight would come in each day offering food while demanding conversation. Yshomatsu respectfully declined his offers, or did he? Nah he simply ignored the Knight while inwardly laughing. In reaction the Knight had refused food each day. After a week he had started to feel weakness seep into his body, getting worse slowly each day.

Yet he held strong, meditating each day to keep his spirit up. Unbeknownst to his captor, the old building allowed rain to drop from the ceiling. Had it not been for the small amounts of water, he wouldn't have held on for so long.

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