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Path of Evil Ch. 01

By: herminius2



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

The story thus far: Our party of adventurers arrives at the decrepit keep they intend to turn into their base of operations only to find that not one, not two, but three groups of enemies had infested the keep. An emissary from the devils arrived as they were discussing strategy, after the succubus got caught spying, she attempted to convince our mercenaries, who she had mistaken for heroes to assist her in defeating the Drow (the undead are apparently not a real concern). Thurlith (human sorcerer/pale master/red dragon disciple—I know it's not an optimal build, bite me) the leader of our band of mercenaries, laughs at her and proves himself not a hero, by burning the clothes from her infernal skin and taking her in the dirt. The rest of the party amuse themselves, until Caracin (human wizard) finished her scrying of the drow portion of the keep. Her hatred of devils was infamous leaving Thurlith in an awkward position and Mu'tasin (half-orc cleric), Tan (tiefling ranger) and Kvas (gnome rogue/assassin) with a show.

*

"Explain. Now." Power flickered around Caracin's brown eyes, a worrisome sign that her control was weakening dangerously.

Thurlith's sense of self-preservation pulled blood away from his still engorged cock and into his brain. "Obviously you'll want to talk to—interrogate whichever devil's in charge. The Red Knight knows you've tortured enough of the low level ones we stumble over, or you summon up, trying to find your tormenter. But whoever's in charge of a succubus must be pretty powerful—"

"Which explains you balls deep in that succubus how?" Caracin asked.

"Trying to fuck answers out of her?" Mu'tasin suggested.

"Not helping." Tan noted quietly, his hand sliding almost imperceptibly towards one of his blades. He needed Thurlith alive and the last time he'd seen Caracin this angry, she'd blown up the bar they were in, then the three squads of guards who'd come to investigate, then the gates of the town they were leaving, when the guards there failed to open them fast enough.

"Not trying to." The half-orc said cheerily.

"Obviously if we just fight our way up, we'll either kill whoever's in charge, or he'll gate away. Either way, you don't get what you want." Thurlith stalled, then an idea lit up his brain, though he had a good enough poker face not to show it. "This way, we'll meet him up top, get a look at his defenses and I'll say that I want that bitch as part of my payment. He'll buy that, thinking she's fuzzed my thinking. I'll leave you behind to watch my new property, obviously I ain't leaving one of the others, I'd be too 'jealous' thinking of her with them." 

Mu'tasin snorted. "Jealously guarding a succubus's cunt seems like a good way to make yourself crazy."

Caracin's eyes turned from Thurlith for the first time. The half-orc shut up.

"Which will give you an excuse to be there, examining their defenses, with spells intended to bind and control devils. Then I'll return alone, they'll betray us and we'll be free to...resolve the situation in a way that satisfies both—all of us." Thurlith concluded.

"Do you actually want the succubus?" Caracin asked, her eyes no longer glowing.

"If possible. But the priority with the devils is getting the information you need. If I want pussy, I'm sure the drow brought plenty." Thurlith replied, which drew happy agreement from Kvas and Mu'tasin.

Caracin was silent for so long that one of the others would have spoken, if not for Tan actually slipping between them and the arguing pair and making it very clear that silence was the order of the day.

"It's a good plan." The words might have been dragged from her by tortures worse than those inflicted on her nightly by her devilish visitors.

"Thank you." 

"I apologize for leaping to conclusions." Those words were even more forced.

"I accept your apology. Now, Kvas, Tan, Mu'tasin, setup camp, get the wards up and schedule watches. Caracin and I will discuss what she found out about the drow and come up with a plan to present to the fiends upstairs."

Caracin started a fire with a wave of her hand and they sat together, discussing the deployment of the drow, apparently leftovers from an outpost that had been overrun by Illithids. They had fled, until they washed up here, a few dozen drow and thrice that number of slaves. They occupied the cellars of the keep and raided upwards for supplies. The keep had been taken by storm than abandoned, its granary was still full and the spells to keep the grain preserved and free of pests hadn't run down. Or perhaps the undead maintained it. A vampire would need a supply of sentients to drink from and they'd need food.

"Their leader is a priestess of Lolth. Then there's about twenty drow fighters, a mage and a big ass drider who acts as the priestess's second in command. The slaves mostly fetch and carry, but they've armed some of the orcs with captured weapons and they're using them as cannon fodder, more to reduce the number of mouths to feed than because they're effective. Then there's a couple of drow craftspeople and a handful of slave-whores who're keeping the slaves and the drow men entertained."

That caught Mu'tasin's attention. "Orcs?" He asked hopefully.

"One."

"Thurlith..."

"Fine, we'll try to take her alive."

"Good. I like 'em green as much as I like 'em black." The priest said, before resuming his chanting.

"There are several stairs down, all guarded by both sides, but the ground floor is collapsing into the cellar, and a number of the drow have items which let them fly, so they're able to get in and out without much trouble..."

"Unless they run into a squadron of imps. That was a sight, let me tell you. I didn't even know those little devils had pricks." Kvas began.

"Strategy, not pornography. At the moment." Thurlith said.

Kvas pouted at his friend. "Too bad, you don't know what you're missing."

"Okay, we'll go topside, then down the outside. Mu'tasin and me will go down one of the main ways, drawing their attention while Kvas and Tan sneak down the holes. Priests and mages are your priority target. Leave the slaves and whores alone, unless you have to kill them. NO FUCKING UNTIL WE'VE DEALT WITH THE DROW. And the devils." 

"One time that happened." Mu'tasin muttered.

"Yeah, but that was with a fucking harpy." Thurlith pointed out.

"I don't even know how you could get it up for one, especially as the rest of us were busy fighting her entire brood."

"I hadn't had any pussy in six weeks. When I came over to your side, I was promised gold, blood and pussy. I'd had plenty of the first two, needed more of the third. Let me tell you, that bird lady could sing given proper inspiration." 

"I know. We all know. We could all hear." Thurlith noted.

"Yeah, like you're one to talk."

"Fair point. But I at least don't fuck while my crew's bleeding."

"Something you'll have to get over if you mean to be king and have a sex life." Caracin noted drily. 

"Fair point. Sketch up some maps of the cellars before you crash. Watch order is Kvas," who whooped at being given the early watch. "Mu'tasin gets the middle watch, where his god can give him new spells, Tan's got the last watch. Caracin and I get a full nights sleep and the spells we'll need to deal with devils and drow alike."

There was a little grumbling, but not much, the warriors liked having summoned creatures and fireballs more than they liked a couple extra hours of sleep. Besides the mages took their time on watch on those days when they hadn't had to spend their spells on enemies. 

The next morning dawned clear. Thurlith opened his eyes to the feel of power surging through him. The power of the pale masters, the power of the red dragon disciples, the power of a sorcerer who had sacrificed much for power and then used that power to get back all that he had sacrificed. His skin shed blows that would cut through plate, but looked as smooth as the day he was born. He could paralyze, or kill with a touch, but otherwise his hand looked and felt human. The three nights he had spent in the tomb of the Elder Queen had paid dividends as had the long days spent deciphering the absurd ramblings of madmen who worshipped the dragons whose blood gave sorcerer's their power. 

With the power filling him to the brim, he cast the spells that would shield his comrades from harm, strengthen their arms and aim, quicken their steps and strengthen their resolve. 

He slid the belt around his waist and touched the wands that hung from them, to make sure they still had the power they should have. The pouch opened at a word, it opened too far, its magic reducing the weight of the gold, jewels, supplies and weapons that filled it to nothing. He reached a hand inside, feeling gold, the sharp edges of jewels and weapons, making sure that everything was as it should be. The Beggar's Nest taught you to do that, check your goods were still there in the morning. His had went to the length of wood that was strapped horizontally to his belt. Polished cherry, he'd carved the runes into it himself. It was hardened by fire and by spellwork, his, Caracin's and Mu'tasin's. The wands were for long range, the rod for enemy weapons, his hands for the kill. 

The succubus waited for them to get geared up, before she landed, carefully outside Mu'tasin's wards. The priest's god may have been one of war, violence and horrible death, but that didn't mean that he and the succubus were on the same side. Evil was no more monolithic than good, as the keep's status proved.

Mu'tasin gave them a lift to the top, where the demon lord was holding court. Thurlith made sure to pay close attention to the succubus...whose name he finally noticed that he hadn't caught. The leader of this group was a Malebranche, a close combat specialist. The negotiations were long and arduous, Thurlith made them more amusing by pretending to be distracted by the very distracting succubus. She'd found something that acted like clothing. It was as black as her hair, but with no need to support and no modesty to maintain, it enticed, rather than concealed.

The devil promised many things in exchange for their assistance dealing with the drow, but he (he was most definitively he, the cock swinging naked between his legs made Thurlith wonder how the succubus could be as tight as she was) didn't promise they'd be free and unharmed afterwards. He would keep his word and he would try to kill them. He would regret that. 

"We've almost got a deal." He said, waving at the succubus. She swayed forward and he pulled her tight against him, feeling the curves of her body pressed against him. She could feel his arousal as his lips claimed hers, his tongue penetrated her mouth as his cock longed to... "I want all that stuff, and I want her. My consort, exclusive to me, as long as I live."

The devil smiled, thinking that would not be long.

"Deal."

"Good. Caracin, watch her while we take care of the drow. It's not that I don't trust you," he said to the devil, "but she's a demon, not a devil."

"Not a problem." The devil replied.

"Good. We'll be back soon." Thurlith said, stepping back, over the edge and muttering a spell to slow his descent. The other three men followed him. They nodded to each other and went their separate ways, Kvas and Tan fading into the background. They would sneak in through one of the holes in the keep, while Mu'tasin and Thurlith walked in the front door. It wasn't really guarded, the concern wasn't attack from the outside. He and the half-orc didn't announce themselves, they simply walked in, killed the zombies and skeletons that got in their way and headed to the nearest stairs down. Mu'tasin pulled a vial from his belt and took a draught.

"I hate nightvision." Mu'tasin muttered.

The vial Thurlith pulled from his bag was bright red. "Yeah, well, they'll hate this...Caracin's special twist on Alchemist's Fire." 

Mu'tasin turned around. "Last time she used that in the dark, I was blind until I could figure out what spell would fix it."

"Well, now you know." Thurlith said, hurling it down the steps and spun away, to protect his eyes, not his skin, flame couldn't touch one with red dragon blood in him. 

Flames burst out and upwards, screams came from down below and a figure so wreathed in flames he couldn't even tell its gender came running up. Mu'tasin's greataxe nearly split it in half and stopped its screams. Thurlith dropped from the top of the steps, knees flexing. Fires still illuminated the cellar and several figures still moved. He bopped them with the rod in passing, not bothering to discharge any of its power, it wasn't needed. Mu'tasin tromped down the stairs and took the lead, his full plate making quite a bit of noise and drawing the eye. 

Thurlith followed in his wake. They quite literally ran into a couple of orcs, both groups were surprised, Thurlith's for somewhat longer. As the orcs expired one in two separate pieces, another with a crushed skull from Thurlith's rod and the third burnt to ash by a touch of his hand, Mu'tasin complained about the fire in the darkness. 

A minute or so later they came across a pair of drow trying to retreat towards the main cavern where Thurlith expected them to make their stand. They'd engage the pair where they could bring their superior numbers to bear, though they'd be surprised as hell when Kvas and Tan moved in from behind. This pair, however, they'd have to take in a straight fight. One wielded an elegant rapier and dagger set, the other carried a longsword and buckler. The drow with the buckler made the mistake of thinking its enchantments would let it turn Mu'tasin's greataxe. The buckler didn't actually get split in half, but it buckled inwards, breaking the drow's arm easily. As he collapsed he managed to shove the blade up, perfectly angled to penetrate the joint of the half-orc's plate. Not that that accomplished much, as his skin was almost as hard as the plate itself. Mu'tasin dropped the greataxe, reached down, caught the drow's wrist and battered him against the walls until he stopped moving. Probably because most of the bones in his body were broken.

Thurlith parried the other drow's thrust with his rod and spoke a word. The rapier shattered. The dagger which had been heading towards Thurlith's throat wavered off as parts of the rapier imbedded themselves in his assailant's flesh. The backstroke impacted the drow's skull, shattering it easily. 

"Hey! Their gear is good. We'll either want it for our own guards, or to sell." Mu'tasin said irritably, dropping the drow, removing the longsword and retrieving his greataxe.

"Break another shield." Thurlith joked.

"Hardly my fault. He got it in the way of my chopping him in half."

"So rude."

Their confidence bolstered by the easy victories, they swaggered into the main section of the cellar. Except for load bearing pillars, most of the walls had been removed to create a communal space for the occupying drow. When they walked out they saw damn near fifty orcs standing between them and the drow. The orcs weren't armed with anything more than sticks, but in the time it would take to slaughter their way through them, the drow behind would pelt them with the throwing weapons they were holding, spears, darts, shuriken, but none of the bows or crossbows he'd have expected to see in a surface engagement. No one had made a move yet, until the orcs began to shuffle out of the way.

A massive drider, with arms as impressive as Thurlith's legs led the way, dwarfing the drow that followed her. The drow was wearing the vestments of a priestess of Lolth and carrying a mace wreathed with violet energy. Her long white hair was braided, falling to a waist which was slim, though probably not as well muscled as her guard's. The drider wore a leather band across large breasts and nothing else, trusting in her speed to protect her. She carried an axe as big as Mu'tasin's and moved with the lithe grace of a warrior. From the waist up she was the most impressive drow warrior Thurlith had ever seen. From the waist down she was a terrifying spider. 

"Can you speak?" The priestess asked, stepping beside the drider, placing herself opposite Thurlith, while her guard was opposite what she assumed to be his guard.

"I don't know, can we speak?" Mu'tasin asked.

"Usually. Unless we've lost the power in the last few minutes, which we don't seem to have. Besides the usual way to stop us would be a spell of silence and none of their spellcasters have anything on us." Thurlith noted.

"Listen, creature. It should be obvious, even to you, that this is a fight you cannot win. Submit and live." The priestess said. 

Thurlith stepped forward, the drider reached for the axe strapped to her back, but the priestess lifted her mace. "I can handle it Larel."

Thurlith's left hand rose to stroke her cheek. Her free hand rose to knock it away and he caught it, energy flowed down it. "No to your kind offer and no, you can't." 

She screamed and melted. 

One of the drow in the back row began to speak magic words and an arrow sprouted from her neck. The drider charged, driving Thurlith back into the hallway, as Mu'tasin held his ground against the orcs, which were being driven forward by their drow masters. She actually picked him up and slammed him against the end of the hallway, holding him off the ground almost like he was a child.

Path of Evil Ch. 01 Pt. 2



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

The story thus far: Thurlith and party are attacking the drow at the bequest of devils. Having advanced down into the cellar, their leader challenged them to surrender. Underestimating the human's power, she was melted. Her guard, a powerfully built female drider (think centaur, only with the bottom half of a spider, not a horse) reacted badly and has charged Thurlith while the rest of his party is busy dealing with the other drow and their slaves, he must deal with her alone.




His green eyes met her violet ones. "Larel, was it?" He asked, one hand on the wrist of the hand that wasn't holding him against the wall, the other was on her throat. 

"Yes..." She growled.

"You seem to have been loyal to that bitch?" 

"I obeyed her."

"She's dead."

"Yes."

"You're not. I'm not. It sounds like you need a new boss, unless you want to strike out on your own?" He asked.

"You know how long a drider lasts on her own?"

"As long as it takes someone to put a blade in her."

She nodded.

His hand dropped from her throat and slid down her side to the band that covered her breasts. "And if I wanted to put something else in...her?" He asked, as he openly groped her breast.

Her eyes opened wider, and her smile grew savage. "Are you mocking me?" 

"I never joke about wanting to fuck someone." He said, letting the hand fall from her breast and trace its way down her firmly muscled stomach to where her carapace began.

"I. Am. A. Drider." 

"I. Am. A. Pervert." He countered, hand running back up and under the band, between her breasts.

She dropped him. "Are you serious?"

"Always. I am not monogamous, however."

"Not a problem."

"Good. Are there any others I can trust to obey me and not stick a knife in my back?"

"Some."

"Round them up and keep them away from the fighting and you'll be in charge of them when it's over."

"And the other thing?" She asked.

"When I've dealt with all the factions. ."

She leaned forward and ran a tongue along his ear. "I have your taste, and your scent, I can find you if you betray me." 

He caught the back of her neck, as she started to pull back and she was surprised by his strength. "I don't betray people. I don't break my deals. If I did, soon no one would be willing to deal with me."

She nodded and leapt to the ceiling scuttling along over the battle. Thurlith walked back in and bellowed a warning over the sound of battle, that the drider had switched sides and that she was to be left alone, as were all who were with her. At the sound of that, the orcs broke, rather than face Mu'tasin's blade. 

They scrambled back through the drow, half a dozen falling to their masters' blades, only one of the drow went down in turn. 

"Those who Larel will speak for should join her in the back. Everyone else, prepare to die." He bellowed, striding forward, chasing the fleeing orcs. A few of the drow broke as well, the ones who thought they had a chance. The rest began to scatter, looking for a way out as their cohesiveness died with their hope.

Thurlith burnt his way through the remnants, as Tan and Kvas sped in pursuit of those who were trying to escape. Mu'tasin leaned on his axe for a moment, then glanced around. He noticed that behind the drider, there were no female drow. "Damnit! Those bastards are gonna get all the prime pussy? Are any of the female drow still alive? On the other hand, even the male drow are pretty...maybe...."

"We'll get you laid when we're done for the day, not before." Thurlith said.

"Like you weren't playing with the pretty spider lady." Mu'tasin muttered.

"Feel free to go with Kvas and Tan and have some fun with the captors. I'm going to go talk to her. We'll head upstairs after I sort things out with her." 

"You're a good man."

"No. But I'm a fun leader." Thurlith said.

Mu'tasin took a draft of a haste potion, so that he'd have a chance to catch up. And Thurlith walked over to where the slaves and a handful of drow were cowering behind Larel. He stopped five feet from the group.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. My name is Thurlith Allman. I am here to claim this keep for myself. I will rebuild it. I will claim the surrounding lands and I will rule them. All within these halls and these lands will be loyal to me. If you are not willing to be loyal to me, then you may leave, into the underdark, or on the surface. I don't care." No one moved. "If you are loyal to me, then you will give me your lives and your obedience. Say what you want. Think what you want. But obey me." There was more silence. "Step forward and swear, or leave." One by one the slaves, then the drow and finally Larel came forward and placed their hands between his and swore. 

"There are a few others in the back rooms, please follow me." Larel said.

The whores were back there. A surprisingly clean orc, a (somehow) surprisingly dirty pair of orcs, a goblin, a drow male and, shockingly, a drow female. Fillra Baenre, as she was introduced to him, by the reticent Larel. Completely nude and hairless. She lacked even eyebrows. Her eyes were black within black, her slim frame lacked either the muscle or the voluptuous softness he expected. She repeated the words as if they held no meaning and flitted around the room, one moment pressing her nakedness against him, the next reclining on a pile of cushions. 

"What's wrong with her?" He asked as Larel led him out. 

"You want her?" She asked, jealously.

"Not right now, but perhaps later. Right now, I want to know what's wrong with her." He said, stepping forward so he was pressed against her. His hands ran up her back and undid the buckle that held her strap in place. Her breasts, freed from their confinement swelled against him. His hands ran over her well muscled, elvish torso. Hers reached for him and he ducked under them, slipping between two of her legs so he stood behind her, almost astride her. His knowledge of drider physiology was rudimentary, but probably sufficient. "Answer my question."

She tried to turn, but a hand caught the joint of her first leg, as the other stroked over her carapace, finding smooth, armored perfection. "Underneath..." She whispered.

"That's not an answer to my question." Thurlith noted, his hands stilled themselves. 

"Fillra Baenre...when Lolth was silent, House Baenre tried many ways to communicate with the silent goddess..." she had been speaking quickly, to induce action. She succeeded and he took the hint, exploring her underside. But as his hand found a soft depression that fingers could penetrate easily, her words turned into a low moan, empty of words but with a deep meaning. He considered the distance of the hole from her nimble hands, the sharpness of her spider feet and her shock at the very notion of his interest in her...had no one every penetrated her before? Not even her own exploring fingers? Nature had cursed her by placing her hole outside her own reach—no, not nature, whomever had cursed her into the form of a drider. He froze as well, partially from surprise, partially because she'd stopped speaking.

She continued as his hand rose from her leg, up to her human hip, then up further to the absurd swell of breasts that more befitted a whore than a warrior. "The House wanted to show how willing they were....they summoned up a Balor, and offered one of their own in trade, a promising young priestess, they said—lying whores—She was a daughter of the house, but Lolth had never answered her." The hole he explored was warm and wet, but no lubricant came off on his fingers, oddly enough. Her shudders and her hole's shudders left him in no doubt that she enjoyed his attention. The nipple hardened under his expert ministrations and he permitted himself to smile as he worked her powerful body towards a frenzy, pausing each time she did, forcing the tale from the mighty warrior. "The daughter of a lesser house might have been cast out...made drider—"

He pressed down hard on a nerve cluster he'd found, distracting her from that.

She was panting now, as if she'd just fought the hardest battle of her life. "The Balor took her, right there on the floor. Took her with him when he left too, laughing at the Baenre bitches and their impotence! I hear it was quite a show! Can you imagine? Those noble bitches watching one of their own, raped by a demon, all for nothing? I bet that was the worst part for them, getting played by a demon, almost like they'd been RAPED TOO!" The last words were a shriek as the thought of the noble drow women beaten and taken drove her over the edge. Thurlith's hands had something to do with it to. She staggered as if drunk, her eight legs swaying absurdly and she fell to the ground, bringing herself to a convenient height...

Thurlith walked around her and grabbed her by her short white hair, lifting a head that drooped to her chest. "Then how came she here?"

"When Lolth spoke again, the Balor had to return her, or face the goddesses wrath. He did, but not to Baenre, gave her to another city...thought it funny, maybe cause chaos later, but she was useless after what had been done. Sold as a whore. 's all she's good for now..."

Her eyes opened again as she heard Thurlith's belt hit the ground. He opened his robes, revealing an almost painfully hard cock. Larel tried to rise, but a soft hand on her shoulder kept her in place. "I will fuck you when I choose. For now, I will sample your mouth." Her eyes looked up at him, with fire in them, drow women did not pleasure men...at all, but especially not in such a fashion. They took, they did not give. And Larel, for all her current state, had been born and raised a drow. "Oh...I will not fuck you until your skills in this arena prove...acceptable. After all, you do not give a trainee a sword if he's still tripping over his spear."

"You know I have fangs..." She whispered throatily.

"Adds spice." He replied, stepping forward, cock bobbing in the air in front of her.

It was just out of reach and he waited. They might have stayed like that, except for a sound of motion from Fillra's cubby. He glanced up and Larel pushed herself forward, pressing her lips against it, as if she was kissing his hand at some formal event.

He laughed. She glared up at him, deeply offended. "Drow never know how to suck cock."

Lips parted, though whether to berate him, or thank him for thinking of her as drow, he didn't know, because he took the opportunity to thrust easily into her mouth. A hand rested on the soft hair of her head. "Think of it like another cunt. Sometimes I'll want to take what I want." Both hands caught her head, one on either side and he pistoned in and out of her mouth, hands guiding her head to move against him as if she was bobbing against his cock, trying to savor every inch as it pillaged her mouth, defeated her defenses and entered her throat. Her mouth hung open, her tongue flat against the bottom, as his cock slid between fangs dripping with paralytic venom.

She gagged and choked as she tried to breathe. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears and his, through the palms of his hand, but that was all she could hear. Finally he thrust deep and stayed there, cock blocking her windpipe. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him. Her hands rose and his fell from her head. She stayed in place, holding herself against his trim stomach. As he began to swim in front of her eyes, he pulled back, so just the tip of his cock was in her mouth. She could taste a fluid there, it was...pleasant.

"Other times, I'll want you to show me how much you want me." He said, lifting his hands and resting them behind his head, standing there, for all the world as if he had neither cares, nor a beautiful drider kneeling before him.

She responded instantly, driving herself exactly as deep, and holding herself there. There was only his cock and those emerald eyes, she slurped on his cock, tongue moving, even daring to touch it with her teeth and fangs, making it clear she could have hurt him, could have forced him back, but didn't, she gave him her mouth, her air, her life.

As the world began to fade and she came close to passing out, he withdrew, his face contorted in pleasure as he came, one shot in her mouth, the second and third on her face as he withdrew, the last across her mammoth tits as his cock bounced, freed from her hungry lips.

The white lines lay across black skin, almost like tattoos, or brands, marking her as his. Black fingers rose to touch the burning lines. The flavor of him filled her mouth. It was an odd flavor, made good by her desire for him, for someone who would give her the pleasure drow—other drow?—had all their life, from slaves if not from other drow. But not a drider, not since she'd become a drider. The lines burned in her mouth and on her skin, warming her skin against the cool air of the cellar. 

Thurlith staggered back to the wall, almost as insensible as Larel had been after her orgasm. His voice was as controlled as ever, however. "Good." 

"Good enough?" She asked.

"Yes. Clean yourself up, showing proper reverence for my seed and get your people organized. I want lists of skills, equipment they have, equipment they need and everything else you deem relevant when I get back from concluding my business with the devils upstairs."

"Be careful."

"Always."

Thurlith turned away, pausing only to lift the belt, heavy with his equipment back to his waist and buckle it tight.

"What's due reverence?" She asked his back.

"My seed is meant to be in women. One way or another." Thurlith said without breaking stride.

Larel smiled to herself. There was no one around, but she began to collect the seed, the only question in her mind was whether she should eat it herself, or go put it in Fillra, one way or another.



Path of Evil Ch. 02 Pt. 1



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

*

The story thus far: Our party of adventurers arrives at the decrepit keep they intend to turn into their base of operations only to find that not one, not two, but three groups of enemies had infested the keep. Thurlith bargained with the devils, offering their assistance in defeating the Drow, in exchange for certain payments (including the succubus courier whose company he'd enjoyed earlier). Knowing the devils would betray them, they created the opportunity for them to be betrayed at a known time, then left Caracin behind to prepare to deal with devils upon their return from eliminating the drow. The rest of the party marched into the cellars, after massacring their way to the main cavern where the drow hoped to bring their superior numbers to bear, their leader, escorted by an impressive drider, came forth, demanding his surrender. Thurlith killed her, while Kvas and Tan struck down the most dangerous of the drow from behind. Mu'tasin held off the orc slaves while Thurlith convinced the drider to switch sides. She agreed and gathered the slaves and drow who were trustworthy. With their leader, priestesses and mages dead and their drider switching sides, the remainder fled. Kvas, Tan and Mu'tasin went in pursuit of the fleeing drow to kill and loot any males and rape, kill and loot any female drow they catch. Thurlith and the drider spent their time...entertaining each other and learning about Fillra Baenre, a drow who spent almost a year in the abyss, before being returned, broken to the underdark, where she makes her way as a slave-whore.

Thurlith walked back to the main cavern, feeling remarkably good. With his fellows still out, chasing down the fleeing dark elves and his lust, temporarily, sated, he got some work done. He looted the corpses and sorted those which could profitably be raised as undead from those which could not. Those under Larel's protection began to drift back in. Some looked longingly at the bodies he was dragging about. After a moment's thought he said. "If you wish to see one of your fellows buried in a particular manner, you may do so. However, you will owe me a body. You may pay that debt yourself, or with gold, or with service."

Only two took him up on it. A hobgoblin and an orc. The drow happily left their fellows where they lay, while the other slaves did the same, though less happily.

Larel returned with the lists he'd requested. "Good. Get these people organized and get watches back on the stairs. I'll deal with the undead after the devils." He hadn't exactly been discrete, but he was well protected against scrying. No one was trying scry and fry tactics on him and not just because he was fireproof.

She snapped orders, ignoring the fact that she hadn't bothered to put her top, such as it was, back on. "Some of this gear we have, some should be elsewhere in the keep, or the abandoned lands surrounding the keep. The rest we'll have to buy from the nearest market. Is there anywhere in the underdark less than three days away from here with a useful market?"

"No. We fled here specifically because it is far from anywhere useful."

"Then we'll go overland." Thurlith muttered.

"That would be...difficult for me." Larel noted, quite tactfully.

"Indeed. Which is why you will be my Captain of the Guard and protect this tower."

She flushed slightly, in pride or embarrassment, he wasn't quite sure. Either way, it was hard to see in her dark cheeks. "And you? What are you?"

"For now, merely a mercenary. Soon enough I will be the lord of this tower, then I will bring the surrounding lands under my control. I will choose my title then based on the amount of land I have under my control. And the size and power of my army." Thurlith stepped forward and let a calloused finger run all the way from her cheek to her lower carapace, casually scraping over a hard nipple on the way. "So, your success is my success," he kissed her lightly on the lips, "your obstacles are my obstacles," he pulled back, meeting her eyes, "and your failures—" his hands locked in her short white hair twisting it painfully enough to make her lips screw up in pain, "are my problem. Though never my failures." He released her. "I do not fail." His pride stiffened his spine and weakened her legs. In drow society, no man would speak thus and few women, for pride was beaten out of most early. To have pride proved you worthy of it.

"I will return to work." She whispered hoarsely, before turning back to the confused slaves and commanding guards set up, bodies cleared away and supplies organized. Thurlith sat quietly on a box which he covered with a silk hanging ripped from where one of the drow had hung it. The stylized spider of Llolth went under his firmly muscled backside.

Tan was the first back. In all the time Thurlith had known the tiefling, he'd never seen him indulge in any activity fuelled by lust. The demonspawn could have been smooth as a doll down below for all Thurlith knew of it, but it hardly mattered. The tiefling needed him, at least until they found the rest of the fragments of the demonic crown the ranger wanted. Afterwards...there might well be a reckoning. And given the speed and ease with which he had hunted drow through the Underdark, enough drow to collect quite a bit of loot, that reckoning might be unpleasant, if the ranger had reason to dislike his sorcerous commander.

The ranger dropped a pile of supplies he had no use for on the floor near where Larel was working. Tan took a seat beside him and they began planning their return to the apex of the tower and dealing with its...inhabitants. Tan insisted on referring to them as devils. Thurlith didn't much care. There was a difference and he knew it, but all it changed was how they would betray and attempt to murder him, not the fact that they would do so.

Mu'tasin was the second to return. He'd dragged back a couple of corpses as well as his loot, making good use of the strength his orcish half gave him. He swaggered over to the group and with yet another joke about how many drow he'd split, he dropped down beside them, exhausted from the hunt, but still trying to participate in the planning. At least until he noticed the orcish whores moving amongst the throng. His exhaustion fell from him, even as his satiety did. And he abandoned planning for sex with a roar exclaiming the length of time since he saw a decently green woman.

The whore squeaked when she was picked up and tossed over his shoulder, but she didn't protest or struggle. The other two orcs followed along at his command, used to obeying. 

"Well, that's going to be loud." Tan noted.

Thurlith agreed, but they got back to work on coming up with a plan to ensure complete victory over the devils. Mu'tasin fairly blatantly cheated, using his prayers to restore the energy he needed and to heal any...aches that his activity produced, in order to ensure that he could sample the charms of all three of the orcish whores.

Kvas stumbled in, trying to act as if nothing was wrong, despite the fact that the tip of his nose was missing. It had rather clearly been bitten off. All he would say about it was that you shouldn't try to kiss drow. And that she'd regretted biting him. And she'd regretted summoning the giant frickin' spider.

That was enough to conjure images into Thurlith's brain that he wished didn't exist, and so they moved on. And, after Mu'tasin stumbled out of the back, leaving the orcish women asleep in a, quite literal, pile of naked green flesh. The noise of his...activity had left Thurlith powerfully aroused, which had survived Kvas's complaints. The priest healed the gnome with a touch of his hand and then they were off, moving upwards, in accordance with the plan.

Thurlith alone staggered through the halls, covered in the blood of the fallen and limping as if his leg were injured. His disguise was entirely physical, a mystical one would probably have been spotted by the devils inside the throne room, though it might well have fooled their guards, as Mu'tasin's party was fooling the imps who circled the top of the tower by simply ingesting a few potions of invisibility before the priest's spells lifted them all from the ground to the top of the tower. They would be ready when the time came.

Finally, Thurlith reached the top of the tower. He'd kept up the act all the way up. Partly for practice, partly for verisimilitude, if there were any spies watching, partly because it amused him to play the part of one who was helpless. He truly enjoyed that moment where his enemy realized it was all an act...

The pair of large guards opened the door to the large hall that held the lord of the devils who'd occupied this tower. Thurlith forced himself straight and walked as if pain was barely concealed under pride and fear. His eyes darted, theoretically to the barely-dressed succubus, actually to the fully dressed Caracin standing behind the succubus. The wizard nodded slightly. Everything was ready.

"It's done. My payment?" Thurlith asked.

The demon lifted a massive chest easily with one hand and tossed it directly at the staggering sorcerer, who just barely dodged it. It splashed open, revealing the goods he'd been promised. Thurlith lay sprawled on the floor. "Oh, and you also wanted Jorra, yes? Go to the man, be his consort, serve him, for as long as he lives." The devil said, emphasizing the last clause so blatantly that his intent was even more obvious than it had been from the start.

"Then our business is concluded." Thurlith noted.

"Indeed. Kill him. I'll take care of the bitch!" The devil said, swaying towards her, his naked cock swinging a menacing counterpoint to his nasty weapons.

"Now?" Caracin asked, as if Thurlith was a coach driver and she was a child, impatient to reach her destination.

"Now." Thurlith agreed, rolling and tossing the sprightly succubus directly at the guards who were closing behind him. A window shattered as the others dove into the fray, slaughtering the devils with the contemptuous ease of those who'd faced competent foes who had reason to fear death.

Thurlith himself rose with a surprising agility. A breath of acid swept half the room, leaving many of the lesser devils screaming and writhing on the floor. Only a handful of imps had escaped above his breath. And they rapidly fell to Tan's bow. 

Mu'tasin roared a challenge and met the largest of the devils, probably the second in command, matching his greataxe against the devil's massive pincers, for precisely long enough for Kvas to slip between the devil's legs, and jump straight up, blades extended above his head. A moment later, the devil fell, neatly bisected (horizontally, vertically would have been impossible given his carapace.

Caracin meanwhile had not been tardy in enacting the spells she'd prepared as the boys had played with the drow down below. Runes appeared, filling empty air with mystical light. The devil lord skidded to a halt before them, rather than risk whatever effect they could cause, being caused upon his flesh. A moment later, he regretted his reticence when a massive hand lifted him from the grounds and pinned him to the ceiling. A word and a wave of her hand sent acid skittering towards him. He flinched, raising an arm to protect his eyes as the rest of him struggled against the restraining hand pinning him in place. This turned out to be unnecessary as none of the acid hit him. Instead it melted into the rock, carving runes and other mystic symbols into the rock. 

A second wave of her hand and the rock below him melted, a second circle of power appeared below the pinned devil lord. A devil leapt to free its lord, talons extended towards the distracted mage. It went down, screaming as Kvas materialized behind it, blades buried in the back of its legs. It slid into a heap by the focusing mage. Thrulith stepped over and stomped hard, snapping its neck, before he turned back to the guards who were finally detangling themselves from the luscious and lust-filled succubus. The pair of barbed devil guards attacked. Thurlith slid under a blow and placed a hand against the barbed devil's carapace magic flared and the barbed devil screamed as ice spread from that point over his limbs, then over his head, silencing him. A blow from the other knocked the sorcerer halfway across the room. 

The succubus stepped forward and suddenly she looked like Thurlith. The barbed devil rather stupidly attempted to strike the succubus, despite the fact that she had changed in front of the barbed devil and she was hovering, which Thurlith did not. 

Four blows hammered the air where the succubus was not. Thurlith rose behind the distracted barbed devil, but before he could get there, three arrows sprouted from the giant devil's back. And as it turned to face Tan, who'd turned his attention from the furious devil and resumed dropping silver arrows amongst the broken scattered handful of devils attempting to organize themselves into some sort of resistance around the room. Kvas however scampered up the barbed devil's back, using the arrows as hand holds and then, reaching its shoulder took its head off with half a dozen absurdly quick blows, then tumbled away as the devil collapsed. The rock gnome paused smash the barbed devil's frozen counterpart, more for fun than any tactical reason.

The remaining devils fled, their leader captured, their lines broken, defenses compromised, they had no plan and so they fled, rather than be banished from the plane. Thurlith rose, unhurt and glanced around. The devil lord was trapped in Caracin's net and her eyes never left the pinned, writhing creature.

"Kvas, Mu'tasin, and you, Jorra, was it?" The succubus nodded. "Go through everything here, get it organized. Especially anything on this list." Thurlith passed the list to Mu'tasin, who could read, not Kvas, who couldn't. "Anything else, we split the usual way. Mu, collect anything that's useful alchemically, then sort the useful bodies from the ones too badly—" he glanced at the frozen and collapsed barbed devil, then shot a sardonic look at Kvas, "damaged to be usefully...reused." 

They nodded. Only the succubus didn't know him well enough to bother asking what he was going to be doing while they were working on this. "Dealing with the undead. Two factions down, one to go. I don't sleep in unsecured territory." His eyes raked the succubus's once-again-voluptuous form, "and I'm very tired. Oh, but before I forget, he—" the sorcerer waved at the still restrained devil, "said you would be my consort and serve me, loyally," he added the word, "for as long as I live. However, I would have you declare your loyalty yourself, demon." 

"Of course." Her voice was throaty, promising the fulfillment of all desires, however depraved, however acknowledged. "My loyal service as your consort, for as long as you live."

"Good."

"And your archer?" She asked.

"He's loyal enough." Thurlith said, to a snort from the tiefling.

"I meant, what will he be doing?"

"Making sure Caracin's safe as she questions the devil. Which she's going to do shortly. I don't particularly want to watch that, so I'll be going now."

"Alone? Are you sure—"

He laughed. "To be a pale master you must be locked, in a crypt, with intelligent undead for three days and three nights. I chose a crypt containing a pack of vampires who thought themselves mighty because they could terrorize farmers and defeat the occasional farmhand who took up a pitchfork against them. For three days and three nights predator and prey flittered through the halls of the crypts of long-dead kings. On the third day, when the crypt opened again and only the predator, the new pale master, was left. No, I do not require assistance to defeat the vampire."

He reached the door and realized that despite everything, he was still painfully aroused. "However," he began, freezing the succubus where she had begun to turn away. "I would like the best quarters in this tower. Show me to them."

She nodded and led the way, taut red ass swaying, barely covered by black fabric, tail weaving a counterpoint to the sway of her hips, which somehow managed to draw even more attention to her strutting self.



Path of Evil Ch. 02 Pt. 2



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

*

The story thus far: Thurlith and party dealt with the drow and have returned to the devils. As anyone could predict, the devils promptly fulfilled the word of their agreement, then turned upon the adventurers and attempted to kill them. They failed. Their leader was captured by Caracin, who wishes information from the devil. The rest of the party is busy sorting through the loot and detritus of a devilish occupation, while Thurlith, having gained the loyalty of a succubus, has decided to...ensure that he was completely focused before dealing with the undead.

Her red, barely covered ass, swayed, her nimble tail swaying between long legs, drawing his green eyes, like a vampire was drawn to blood. A metaphor that almost distracted him from the pleasure he was going to take from the beautiful succubus. His eyes were caught. It wasn't merely arousal, or beauty, it was a spell. Or at least it was partly magic. They passed by the broken remnants of a window and with a shake he broke the entrancement. A rough hand buried itself in her black hair and flung her towards it.

As she shrieked he caught her by the tail, pulling a whine of pain and surprise from perfect lips and, necessarily, a whisper of lust, as it was her nature. Her wings spread to catch her, but too late, and now she was trapped. The flesh of her wings held her outside, and with his hand pulling her back inside, she couldn't furl them sufficiently to return and couldn't escape his powerful grip.

"Turn off the charm." He said coldly.

"You certainly haven't." Her words were throaty, full of lust. "I can see that you will be a worthy master, just taking what you want." She ground her ass back, trying to reach him.

"I told you to turn off the magic that's supposed to be entrancing me. If I never need mystical help, I'll tell you. Until then, use no magic on me...'loyal consort'."

The spell vanished instantly. His erection did not.

At that, he stepped forward and freed his cock from his robes and ripped the cloth from her body, tossing it aside, but never freeing her from his crushing grip, or the pressure of her wings on the walls of the keep. Pain helped keep her aroused and leashed. Or so said the texts on succubae, which he had read with rather more interest than most of the texts on the various outsiders a sorcerer might encounter...

Her pussy lips were puffy and begging for cock, beads of lube dripping down and collecting on her clit, only to fall to the floor, or wall. "I will rule everything you see here." His free hand caressed her perfectly proportioned ass, feeling hard muscle flex under soft skin as she scrambled to force herself backwards against his cock. "And everything I see here."

She moaned at that, at the declaration that he would rule her as well. With no more warning than that he shoved his cock up to its root into her pouting, begging cunt. The fiery heat of her hole might have burned a man not protected by heavy duty magics. Her tits bounced heavily outside the window, then pulled back, withdrawing until only the head of his cock was within her tight hole. Then he pulled her back against him by her tail, pulling a shriek of ecstasy and agony from lips meant, literally, to suck cock and a throat meant to deep throat and a tongue meant to lap cum from the holes of her sisters. Then he pushed her forward, slamming her against the windowsill and most of the way off his cock, only to thrust back into her, pushing her most of the way out of the window. He repeated the process again and again, savagely fucking her. A dozen imps circled the window, enjoying the impressive view, but staying away from the human powerful enough to master a succubus.

He slapped her ass with each thrust, building up a good rhythm. The spanking, the squelch of each thrust into her wetness, the chorus of moans and shrieks from Jorra all combined to create a symphony worthy of a music hall. As her lust peaked and her screams grew ever louder, he ground her forward, forcing her clit against the broken remnants of the windowsill and driving her over the edge. Her cunt tightened around him, muscle easily compensating for the slickness her dripping provided, permitting it to clutch him, massage him, damn near suck the cum from his balls. After a moment of resistance, to prove he could, if he so chose, Thurlith let go and flooded her infernal womb with mortal cum.

For a moment they made an immovable tableau, their muscles locked, tensed beyond what they could usually stand. Then the fire burned out, or at least back within its carefully banked circle and Jorra collapsed, hanging half in, half out of the window. Her pendulous breasts brushed the stone of the keep as the weight of them (and, admittedly her wings and the rest of her upper body) began to pull her out the window.

A single rough jerk from Thurlith's hand, still wrapped in her tail pulled her back inside, to the disappointment of the impish (literally) onlookers. She collapsed on the floor, a line of white cum oozing from her cunt, along with many lines of her own clear lube, running down her thighs towards the cold stone beneath her suddenly exhausted frame.

Thurlith sat down heavily on the remnants of the windowsill, carefully keeping his defenses prepared if the imps had the courage to attack his exposed back. "Clean me, consort. I have no wish to go into battle stinking of your lust."

The explanation wasn't necessary. But it amused him.

Her head rose slowly, dark curls falling around her perfect face and full lips parted. His eyes met hers and whatever words she would have spoken withered away, unlike his cock, still standing tall before the beaten succubus, glistening in the light.

A forked tongue ran over those lips, than slowly over his cock, carefully cleaning every inch of it and, not coincidentally, being almost painful on his still sensitive cock. It took her less than a minute and he wondered idly if she had experience with the more monstrous cocks of the realms...then decided he didn't much care. She hadn't tried to push him out the window and she had obeyed. For now, she was still bound by her word. Her head lifted from his cock and she pulled the last bit of fabric from her sinful body, the bit of black that had covered her breasts had slipped up until it was almost a necklace over the course of her ravishment, and now it served as a towel to dry his prick.

"Goo—Well done. Stake out the best quarters for me. I'll be back after I deal with the undead." He said, stepping away from her and arranging his robes so it was impossible to tell they'd ever been askew. He walked away without looking back, despite the fact that he could hear squelching and jeering behind him and knew that the succubus was getting herself off before hustling to obey his commands. She wanted to lure him back with no magic needed. He paused, "Oh, and you might want to pick out a space, a large space, for the harem you will be the mistress of. I'm sure my other lieutenants will want spaces of their own. Consider the warning a reward for your...enthusiasm." He said, without turning around.

Being her master was going to be a hassle. But fun. And it was how great men were made, after all, overcoming great challenges...



Path of Evil Ch. 03 Pt. 1



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

The story thus far: Thurlith and party dealt with the drow and have the devils. The predictably treacherous devils were outmaneuvered and mostly wiped out, except Jorra the succubus, and now Thurlith's consort and the leader of the devil's who is currently undergoing 'questioning' by Caracin. That leaves only one power left in the keep. The last and least, the undead.

*****

Kvas and Mu'tasin were arguing over whether a ring of protection should be added to the pile of equipment for the guards, or the pile of random shit to be sold. Thurlith decided not to get involved and walked past and down the stairs. He slid past the skeletons and zombies that made up the defenses of the undead with the same ease, cloaked in magic and the stupidity of the creatures.

It wasn't difficult to find where the vampire was holed up. The defenses grew ever tighter, but never nearly tight enough to keep out a pale master, a mystical master of the undead, until he reached the last door. Where a single vampire had found a minotaur to raise as a zombie bodyguard was an interesting question, but not important at that moment. He considered attacking it, or trying to control it. He probably could have, but why bother with the muscle when you could defeat the brain? He slid backwards into the shadows and stalked around the large central room the vampire occupied until he found an unguarded portion of the wall. A spell melted the wall and a moment later, Thurlith was inside. He was, once again, grateful for the infravision his bracelet gave him, letting him see in the pitch darkness of the room.

His eyes swept the room, seeing nothing except a few tables, a chair, a coffin and the freshly drained corpse of an orc, food she hadn't yet had time to raise as a zombie. He didn't hear the vampire falling atop him from behind. But he felt the air move as the beast fell towards him. He wasn't fast enough to evade it and hit the ground hard. The beast was atop him, straddling him from behind, hands on his back, pinning him, baring his throat to a strike. Sharp teeth hit his skin and...broke.

The bone and scale armor of his time as a pale master and a red dragon disciple was a great deal stronger than the vampire's teeth, and the beast's jaws were strong enough that something was going to break. Unlike most masters of those disciplines, he chose to hide his armor under polymorphed skin, partly to conceal his abilities and defenses, partly because skin was so much more sensitive than bone, or scale and he quite enjoyed the feel of skin on his...

The undead creature screamed against his throat, then released and reared back, moaning piteously, hands leaving his shoulders to cradle a bleeding jaw. In the moment when it was off-balance, Thurlith pushed himself upward, then spun to face the creature. Pale eyes enveloped his and hands hit his shoulders again pinning them flat against the floor as the vampire's used its ability to dominate living sentients on the pinned sorcerer. It was atop him, straddling his waist, hands on his shoulders, its thin muscles pulsing with the power of the undead as its eyes devoured the pinned man, it would command him, it would control him, as it had so many others.

Thurlith's face went blank and automatically the vampire relaxed slightly. The pale master was not dominated, but took the moment when the beast thought he was to evaluate his opponent. The creature was slim, white as a sheet, dressed in a blood red dress that hugged an upper body whose curves were subtle, but present, then it flared out in a swirl of skirts that raised questions of how in the name of all the hells, she'd managed to hold herself up on the ceiling.

She lacked the absurd voluptuousness of the succubus, or the drider, for that matter, but she was still most definitely female. Light blue eyes were almost grey and her pale blonde mane was almost white. It almost looked like all the color had been drained from her with the same ease that she would drain the blood from a helpless child. Her features were elegant, suggesting nobility, as did the hands which rested on his robes, they lacked any sort of callouses. Predatory eyes weighed him, the only difference from before she'd been turned into a vampire was that instead of weighing him for use as a slave, she weighed him for use as spawn, or food. 

His eyes has remained locked on hers, absorbing the vision above him in his peripheral vision and as they remained there, his hands slid along the stone floor and he grabbed each thigh that was pressed on either side of his hips.

Flame wreathed his hands and burnt through the silk of her dress, marring her flesh. She screamed again, hands leaving him and she leapt back, torn between beating out the flames and not touching the horrible burns. He fumbled in the pouch hidden in his robes, ripping out the reagent he needed for the spell. The fragment of amber slid into his fingers. She looked up at him as the blackened skin paled before his eyes, regenerating. Thurlith rattled off half a dozen words. She started forward, trying to stop him, but it was her turn to be too slow. The amber faded to nothing and then, in a single instant, she was coated, head to toe in the golden stone, caught like a bug in the amber. 

Thurlith smiled at the trapped vampire. With a grin grown malicious, he slid the rod from his belt and muttered a word. The wood crackled with deadly energies. A savage blow struck the amber coating her head. 

It shattered.

The amber. Not her head. He would have needed to speak a different word to do that.

"Shall we talk? Or shall I crush your skull? It's not decapitation, but I bet if I pulp it sufficiently, you'll shamble off to wherever vampires go."

"What do you want?" She hissed.

"Well, I can already take your monsters, but I can always use an additional pair of hands, assuming you're willing to take orders and not eat anyone I don't give you. I guess you can also eat folks who volunteer, just don't kill 'em or leave 'em unable to do their jobs." Thurlith said.

"That's it? Kick the crap out of me, then take me on?" The vampire asked, brows drawing together. 

"It's the vampire way, isn't it? The strong lead, the weak follow?" He whispered, stepping closer to the frozen creature. Her muscles flexing, trying to break free of the amber that restrained her. "Humans aren't that different, really. Except for the inclusion of so many irrelevant things in strength. Rank, parentage..."

"All the things you don't have?" She asked, a shot in the dark, though his features were as common as his abilities were rare.

He casually backhanded her hard across the face. Her head snapped back and her tongue ran over soft lips, carefully lapping up all the blood. "Among other things I'm missing." He admitted evenly. "Such as an answer to my question."

"Of course, of course, I swear on all the gods to be your humble servant, a member of your pack, to kill, raise and feed only at your word."

"That's nice." He raised the rod again, then, as if he were just noticing it, glanced at a table in the corner and the elegant statue of a slim figure, dressed as a noble, with ruby eyes. "Except, you raise the dead and are no mage, making you a priest..." he waved a hand at the statue, "Of Kanchelsis, God of Vampires, who laughs at oaths taken to food and laughs at their breaking even louder than he laughs at the crunch of bone, or the squeals of children."

She winced, caught. "Then what do you suggest?" She asked.

Thurlith produced a pendant, amusingly enough, the stone was hardened amber with a dozen small items inside. "This little beauty is a leash. Once I put it on, it's not coming off. I'm sure you could find a spell that would get it off, the problem is that if you were to do that, well all the spells in here would go off at once, vaporizing you. I can also set them off with a word or two, certainly less than the twenty five I can say in a sending spell, which will find you, wherever you run." He paused to let that sink in. "So are you my pet, creature, or are you just another corpse?"

Pale eyes lowered. "Do it."

"Say it." He countered.

Her eyes rose, flashing with rage and power as she again tried to dominate the sorcerer. This time he didn't even flinch as the hammerblow of her power slammed against his will. "You know, I don't like taking slaves of people. Slavery weakens the master and holds down those who may well be stronger than them. But you aren't a person, just a demon in a pretty form, so like the succubus upstairs, you will be bound or you will be dust."

Shock showed in her eyes, shock that he'd beaten the devils above her, and now her. She'd known about the drow and was preparing to take advantage of that defeat, but to beat all three parties in a day. She was out of her league. She knew it. She liked it. He wasn't wrong about the nature of vampires. She had fled when the one who turned her had been slain and had been on her own ever since. She was a young vampire, strong and proud, but it was in her nature, in the nature of all vampires to be pack animals, to submit to the stronger and revel in the protection and freedom that that allowed them. The freedom to follow, the freedom from choice, the freedom of Kanchelsis.

"I am your pet." She whispered.

He raised the pendant. "Sorry, what was that?" The pendant hung, inches from the head, the amber spinning hypnotically before her eyes.

"I am your pet." She bellowed, to be heard by all on the floor, and understood by none of the mindless beasts.

"It's not me you have to convince and it's certainly not a bunch of zombies and skeletons."

"Then who is it?" She howled in frustration.

"You."

She paused thinking back to all the things the vampire who had turned her had asked of her and her eager willingness to obey. To never have to worry about the plans, simply to know her part and her place in them. That was part of why she'd done all she had, to find a new place. She'd thought it would be as master, but if it was as slave again...so be it. Anything was better than the madness of attempting to balance all choices. She wasn't ready for that. Perhaps master vampires were made of different stuff, better able to embody Kanchelsis's chaotic ideals, but she was a tool of such free creatures, at least for now and thus..."I am your pet." She said evenly, meeting emerald eyes levelly. It was not a passionate statement. It was said much as she might say she was a vampire. It was mere truth, unburdened by resentment or shame.

"So you are." He agreed, dropping the pendant over her neck. She felt the gold tighten until it was bound around her throat like a collar, impossible to get even a nail, let alone a finger between it and her throat. The amber hung like the label on a dog collar, marking her as his. She could feel the power of it, surrounding her, threatening her, yet protecting her. A savage blow from the rod shattered the other amber that surrounded her, freeing her. 

She staggered free, inadvertently flashing him glimpses of white thighs, the skin healed, the dress did not. "By the way, an unfortunate side effect of the amulet is that you won't be able to assume your gaseous form." His eyes were keen on her face, watching for hints that this was upsetting news, that her plan to escape had been foiled. There were none, because she'd had none.

"Thank you for telling me. How may I serve you?" She asked.

"Indeed. How can you serve me?" He countered.

"I will obey your every command."

"Of course you will. The question was what are you capable of?" Thurlith clarified.

"Besides the obvious, I am a skilled priestess of Kanchelsis and can raise zombies and skeletons, as well as they usual abilities of vampires." 

"And your name?"

"Afarella D'tioni Van Chelm, Daughter of the Eigth—"

"Afa. Got it. So here's what's going to happen. I'm gonna finish this trio I've got going on by buggering your tight ass and then you're gonna go down to the tunnels and fortify them against any intrusion. How does that sound?"

"Good, but trio?" She asked, sliding towards him with the grace of a noblewoman, and a vampire.

"I've had a drider's mouth, a succubus's cunt and I'll have a vampire's ass, all in one day." Thurlith explained.



Path of Evil Ch. 03 Pt. 2



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

The story thus far: Thurlith and party dealt with the drow and the devils. Thurlith dealt with the undead himself, using his spells to slip past most of them, only to be ambushed by Afa, the vampire priestess who was leading the undead. Defeating the ambush and the priestess, he coerced her, with psychology, magic and might into accepting her place as a subordinate member of his pack. To prove that, and to complete the trio of holes he's fucked this day, he plans to bugger the bitch.

"I've had a drider's mouth, a succubus's cunt and I'll have a vampire's ass, all in one day." Thurlith explained.

"Of course, sir." Afa said, pressing her slim body against his. Her high breasts pushed into his robes, hard nipples tented the dress. He could feel them through the robes, like little diamonds. "Do you want me to keep the dress on or take it off?" She whispered.

He could feel the cool air of her breath on his face. "I think off this time. But keep the dress around, I may want to rip a dress off you sometime and this one's already damaged." At that idea, she shuddered against him. His hands came around to grope her tight ass through the silk of her dress. She gasped. "I see you like that idea." His hand ran in through one of the holes he'd burned in her dress to caress cool flesh. Her cunt wept at his touch. "No underwear, such a dirty girl." He slid two fingers easily into her pussy. "But that will come later. This time, you will give yourself to me. You will do all the work and you will earn my seed and your place." The muscles of her fuck-hole tightened at that and he smiled savagely, pulling her away from him with those penetrating fingers and then a hand between her small breasts.

She staggered back, his fingers making an odd squelching noise as they left her tight, well-muscled hole. Her eyes were full of hunger and wounded pride. Thurlith turned his back on her and walked to her altar to Kanchelsis, hopping up beside the statue and actually moving it aside so he could lie back on the stone table. He rearranged his robes to free his cock and lay still, carefully not looking at the beautiful, furious creature he'd left behind. Despite the activity of the day, he was already half-hard and he wasn't going to make it easy on the beast.

His eyes closed, but he silently strengthened the protective spells that surrounded him, just in case he was mistaken and Afa was not the eager little vampire sub she claimed to be.

Silk slid on skin, sounding almost like water falling from soft skin to pool around her feet. The sound of bare feet on stone was hard to make out, but in his hypersensitive state, he could damn near feel every step she took towards him. This moment was almost as good as the moment when he would finally flood her with his seed. This was the moment when she chose what she was. 

She paused above him, mouth open, jagged teeth barred eyes on the throbbing vein...her head bent and her tongue ran along the length of the vein that was the spine of his hardening cock. It jumped at her touch, hardening, damn near smacking her in the face. She carefully ran her tongue over every inch of his cock, getting it nice and wet, then as a final touch, she thrust forward, filling her throat with his cock. She lacked any sort of gag reflex, or need to breathe, and the jagged stumps of her fangs scraped his cock briefly. Thurlith lay still, keeping his hands relaxed at his side and not buried in her hair. Barely.

She pulled back after a long minute. "Sir, may I lube my ass, or do you want to take it dry?"

"Vampire's choice."

She nodded. He could feel that, her head pressed against his cock briefly. Squelching noises indicated she was using her own arousal to prepare her butt for the buggering of a lifetime.

Her hands pressed against his chest, wet with her own juices and she swung a leg over his hips. For a moment they were an obscene parody of the tableau they'd made when she first attacked him. Then a hand left those broad shoulders to find his fat prick and guide it to her tight hole. This was far from the first time she'd taken a cock up her backdoor. The vampire who'd turned her had enjoyed sharing all her holes with her underlings almost as much as she enjoyed making the noble bitch lick her cunt.

But they had taken her, when they wanted to, or when their leader had said to, it had never been at her hand. Unlike the throbbing prick that she guided into her sphincter, relaxing the tight muscle as she let her own bodyweight, such as it was, and superhumanly strong muscles press her down upon the cock. Her ass stretched over the cock, cool as the room, but flexing around his cock with the skill of a trained masseur, or a skilled whore.

She gasped in pain and pleasure as she slowly filled herself with his cock. She split herself atop him, finally bottoming out, her ass pressed against his hips. At that, Thurlith opened his eyes and looked up at the beautiful vampire who was astride him. Her pale body was cool and almost ghostlike above him. She pushed herself up, until only the head of his cock was in her ass, her clutching sphincter pressing against the sweet spot right under the head of his cock. 

Her firm, high breasts barely moved as she began to bounce atop his prick. Her legs folded up, pressing on the stone of the table, rather than the floor, pressing against his hips. Hands rose almost of their own accord, to fondle those breasts. Barely handfuls, their nipples damn near cut into his palm as he groped her. She moaned as his hands fell from those breasts to trace abstract patterns down the vampire's sides, until they came to rest on soft hips. The magical rings on his hands pressed into her skin.

The hands could have controlled her movement (or tried, given her vampiric strength), but instead they just let her ride him, buggering herself atop him. She was driving him closer to orgasm, though she herself was taking little pleasure in the act. Until the hands fell from her hips to tease the prominent clit that rose and fell with each thrust, never quite managing to hit his firm stomach. But the nimble fingers of the sorcerer could reach it and stimulate it easily. She threw her head back, enjoying the pleasure and the submission. Pale hair surrounded her head like an absurd halo as Thurlith's hips began to thrust despite himself. The perfection of her control had faltered as well as the fucking pair each acted on instinct.

Her hands left his shoulders to find and grip her own chest, enhanced strength leaving pale fingermarks all over them as she squeezed and tortured those pale hills, she began to whisper a warning, that she would cum soon.

"Not until I do, pet." Thurlith replied.

Not that he was far from it himself. But she had said it first. As in all things, he had to be the best. His left hand never stopped torturing her clit, but his right rose to catch her by the throat and pull her down so her pale eyes met his green ones. His own magically enhanced strength pressed on her button and windpipe at the same time, almost breaking her self control. She writhed atop him, pressing every inch of her lithe frame against his and with a roar he lost it, filling her ass with an ocean of cum. Her orgasm was quieter, but no less intense. Her frame went rigid, locked atop him, as the power of the pleasure burned through her body, as if her brain had been overloaded and could not find a way to restart.

They lay there for a long minute as his cock slowly softened within her, slightly loosened, ass. Then he rolled her off him. She fell, knocking the statue of her god to the floor, then hitting it herself with a wet thump. Thurlith rose, somewhat unsteadily and grabbed her by her long pale hair, pulling her halfway up. She was a light thing for someone so strong, and she moaned at the feel of the pain. That moan had undercurrents of lust though, which only deepened when he casually wiped his cock in her silken hair, drying every drop of his cum and precum from it.

"Get yourself cleaned up and your pets downstairs. Good girl." That last was said as he would have spoken to a dog that performed some mediocre trick. And without another word, he stalked out of the room.



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.

*****

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."




Path of Evil Ch. 04 Pt. 01



"I'm sure you do," she leered.

He sighed. "What do...your kind do when they aren't fucking?"

"Scheme, masturbate...spy." She realized what he was saying. "You want spies?"

"Knowledge is strength as well. Yes, I do. My...appetites are famous. So a high turnover, say every two years, won't draw any attention." The woman on the floor hadn't twitched. He couldn't even have said if she was hearing the conversation or if she was so far gone as to be beyond words. "A high payday when they 'leave' my service won't be a surprise either. It would draw the beautiful and skilled to sate my appetites. Then—"

"They'll be rich, trained and free, brothels, merchants, mysterious noblewomen, they'll be able to be anything, anyone, but all beautiful women, in places to hear things and pass them on." Jorra concluded.

"Got it in one. I see you're quick. Now let's see if you can teach." His tone made it clear she'd passed a test.

"What are the limitations?" Jorra asked.

"Up to you. But if you magic her, it will be broken and then we'll have a problem." He said, turning back towards the door and abandoning the pair of women with nary a backwards glance.

"That's it?" She asked.

"Unless you fail." Thurlith said, voice low and menacing.



Path of Evil Ch. 04 Pt. 02



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

*****

The story thus far: While Thurlith plays politics with his new domain, Darmorel Forgedawn is enjoying the benefits of being the daughter of the ruler of Narito, though she is not in fact enjoying being that bitch's daughter, as mother and daughter have been feuding, with words and blades for the last five years, since Darmorel turned sixteen. Note: Darmorel is a bit squickier than anyone else we've encountered thus far, be aware.

Darmorel looked like a queen. Everyone said that. Even when she wasn't present. And not just because they were afraid that people who were scared of her would report them and they'd end up in a dark hole, or scattered amongst several dark holes.

She was a tall, elegant woman, ivory skin, long raven hair, large breasts that drew the eye up from a trim waist which flared to wide hips, built to cushion a man and birth his children. Her long legs some said were meant to be knelt before, others said they were meant to be wrapped around a man's waist as he filled and bred her.

At the moment the long legs were resting on the shoulders of her elvish maidservant, who was, obediently, licking her cunt as Darmorel ate dinner. Twin guards, large half-orcs stood behind the seated princess, carefully not looking at the delicious scene before them (as the last guard to leer at the princess had discovered that 'You're an emasculated fool!' was an accurate prediction not an empty phrase). Instead the guards kept their eyes on the door, trying to ignore the soft sounds of the maid working at Darmorel's pussy with her tongue and a single nimble finger.

Her orders were to keep the princess happy, but not make her cum while she was eating. If she did, then the noblewoman would put down her fork and use one of the other instruments on the table to punish her. Beside the silverware which flanked a plate filled with expensive treats lay a dozen tools of...discipline. Everything from simple crops to cruelly barbed whips designed for use in lengthy executions.

Darmorel waved over the slender elvish man, husband of the woman between her legs and pointed at one of tarts meant to be eaten with fingers. She would not dirty hers with food. Instead the elf lifted the tart and offered it to her, carefully not looking down at his wife between the human's legs. Not that he could have seen her. The royal's voluminous black skirts completely covered the busy maid. He fed her a bite of the tart, then stood there, waiting for her to signal for a second, or wave him away.

She did neither, instead grabbing the crop by her plate and striking the elf hard across his face. He didn't drop the tart. Darmorel smiled cruelly, squeezing strong thighs around his wife's head, feeling those sharp ears pressing into her soft thighs. She preferred to have reasons to punish people, but she didn't require them. Her hand returned the crop to its place and reached for a heavier whip, something that would make the slight elf drop the tart and give her an excuse for a more...thorough punishment. 

These two had seen too much. It was close to time to get rid of them. This raised two questions: How to do it so it didn't cause her any trouble? And how to do it so it caused her the most pleasure?

Before she could lift the whip, the doors slammed open. The guards lifted their axes, then dropped them again. Four members of the royal guard in heavy plate armor stalked in, before her mother. Darmorel had gotten her height, hair and complexion from her father and her figure from her mother. 

Ilastan was a middle aged woman, with short red hair that framed a pretty, though not classically beautiful face. The densely muscled rogue had claimed rulership of Narito by the simple of killing its former duke and his entire family and moving into the palace. And killing anyone who didn't obey her. Being a high level adventurer had many perks.

Darmorel knew she could not equal her mother in straight combat, nor could any of her guards or the adventurer's she'd met. But, by the same token, her mother could not defeat her, so long as she didn't break, any punishment her mother sentenced her to had to end, for otherwise her great efforts to build a legacy for herself, for which Ilastan had sacrificed almost everything, would be for naught.

They'd already gone four rounds in the last nineteen months, even since she'd broken her engagement to a local baron by poisoning the dumbass.

The maid froze at the sound of Ilastan's voice. "Dear daughter, I see you are hard at work, gaining the skills you need rule this city." 

Those long legs wrapped around the elf's back, heels digging cruelly into soft flesh and forcing the elf's nose against the princess's hard clit. Darmorel dropped the whip and picked up a golden chalice filled with expensive wine. Her free hand waved the male elf away, devious mind trying to figure out why her mother was here, but lust clouded it, as the scenario she'd been creating to dispose of her elvish servants was deliciously depraved. "Indeed, Ilastan," she gasped, not bothering to hide her arousal. "One must master the peasants, if one would lead them." She groaned. "And know how to use them to meet my needs." 

"And then kill them?" Ilastan countered. "You've wasted many servants. It's becoming difficult to find qualified people."

"That's what they're for." Darmorel responded, the hand holding the wineglass waved towards her guards as the maid lapped at her cunt once again, tongue running her pussy lips, then brushing over her clit. The princess's legs tightened instinctively pulling the maid up, and grinding her chin against her clit, using the bitch's entire face as a sex toy. She was moments from orgasm, the hand holding the wine was shaking with pleasure, from the situation, from her toy's skill, from the thought of what she would do to the elves after she came and she had cause to punish them once again.

"Them?" Ilastan asked, stepping towards the massively muscled pair of guards. Her own quartet had fallen in behind the half-orcs, in position to strike them down at a word. A blade flashed from nowhere and the half-orc began to crumple, blade embedded in his throat, severing his spine, killing him before he hit the ground. Also before he hit the ground, the small woman spun and a blade flashed through the air and slid through the other guard's eye into his brain.

Darmorel was too far gone. She moaned and her pussy flared, spurting her juices all over the face of the suddenly despairing maid-servant. "Go get the servants. They work for me now." Ilastan said. Rough hands ripped the elves from Ilastan's side, and cunt. But the hands were still careful not to touch the princess herself. 

Darmorel leaned back in her chair, a bright flush on her pale skin and silently toasted her mother and the dead guards, before drinking deeply, enjoying the afterglow. "Did you just come here to help me achieve the gushiest orgasm ever, or was there another reason for your visit, mother dear?" She asked, amused and lusty smile decorating her classically beautiful face.

"The other reason we've had trouble finding servants is that the Cult of the Wyrm has been working the slums. You're going to stop them. Prove yourself."

Ilastan's face was odd, something was wrong. Better to go along for now. "Fine, fine, I'll get the rest of my guards to go root out some cultists and pick up some new servants." She couldn't resist. "Some pretty ones, too."

"That would be difficult for corpses."

Darmorel's dark eyes widened involuntarily. "You killed all my guards? Fine. I'll hire some adventurers."

"Which is how I ended up involved in Narito's affairs in the first place. You recall how that ended, yes?" Ilastan countered.

"Then what do you expect me to do?" Darmorel asked.

"Clean up the mess. I don't care how. Don't come back until you do."

"Come back?"

Five minutes later, Darmorel walked out the front door, with nothing but the clothes on her back and the contents of her various hidden pockets. She'd originally struggled when the four guards had picked her up and carried her towards the door, but she'd managed to recover before reaching the door. Walking out, she was still covered by her and her mother's reputation, carried out, she was a helpless outcast. Or apparently helpless, at least. Unfortunately, she had no idea how to defeat the Cult of the Wyrm. She would definitely need help, and her mother definitely wasn't going to change her mind. 

"That went bad fast." She muttered to herself, before heading to the nearest bar.



Path of Evil Ch. 05 Pt. 01



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

*****

The story thus far: Thurlith has gotten rid of the village's abusive guardians, which earned him no friends, as the villagers are terrified of what will happen without their guardians. With Jorra...busy recruiting the tavern wench, he turned his attention to the 'leaders' of the village.

The leaders were a motley bunch of old men and women, distinguishable from their colleagues only due to the fact that their hair, what remained of it, was white. They were clustered at the far end of the square, as far away from Thurlith as they could be, without being inside the building whose walls they were clustered against. The tavern keeper was near the front, she knew more, but was less afraid then the others. Perhaps because she was crueler, perhaps because she knew that if he wanted to kill them there was nothing she could do about it.

"Threats."

"What?" One of the older men quavered.

"I was informed that those...individuals...protected this village. What threats did they protect you from?"

"There are things in the woods, but mainly the goblins from under the mountain. Before the warriors came they robbed us blind, kidnapped and sold our people all sorts of things, then the warriors came and we had five years of peace."

"Goblins? You sold yourselves to petty sadists to avoid facing down goblins?" Thurlith asked incredulously. At their blank stares, he realized that, yes, they had, in fact, sold themselves for protection from goblins. "Very well. Where is this mountain? Describe the terrain, the entrances and exits, all the basics."

"The mountain is there." The old man pointed at a hill overlooking the town. "We don't know anything else about it, except that's where they came from and that's where they went."

"Fine. Before I explain what will happen next, I should explain why I'm in charge."

"Because you're strong." The tavern-keeper suggested, attempting, in what she clearly though was a subtle fashion to manipulate him.

"Yes and no. More importantly, because you are subjects of the Lord of the Keep. That is me. I've dealt with the demons, vampires and drow who attempted to claim it and now it is mine, as are you. Therefore I must make you strong as I will not be the lord of weaklings and I must keep you alive, as I will not be the lord of corpses."

"Get your young people together and get your blacksmith to arm them. I want your new militia here at dawn. I'll scout the caverns and we'll eliminate the goblin threat tomorrow." He turned away, ignoring the startled attempts to muster a protest, then he paused. "Oh, and I suggest you give my traveling companion everything she desires and don't...interfere in her...affairs. If you're sensible."

The tavern-keeper said something that sounded suspiciously like 'no shit.' Thurlith did not ask her to repeat herself more audibly. After all, she'd seen Jorra drain a woman to dust, leaving behind nothing but a pile of crappy equipment. Speaking of which, "Feel free to equip one of them with that poor woman's armor and weapons, assuming one of you gathers their nerve sufficiently to go get them."

Thurlith stalked out of the village, his every movement conveying contempt for them, which he did not, in fact feel. He had been weak, but had become strong. His subjects would become strong as well, but for that they needed motivation. Contempt would help them acquire that motivation, as would an example.

Thurlith was no ranger and was city bred and born. But magic could counter for most of his lack of skill, silencing his steps and making him invisible. A quick review of the outside of the hill revealed half a dozen tunnels that he could see. There had to be more he didn't catch, but that wasn't a problem, not with his plan. A muttered spell later and he could see the hundred or so lives in the caves under the hill. The question of who had constructed a network of tunnels in the soft dirt of the hill was an interesting one that might be worthy of some study, but not at this moment. Now he had vermin to exterminate. He would have preferred to recruit them. Unfortunately, that would interfere with his gaining the loyalty of the villagers and their extermination would send the message he wanted to send to those who threatened what was his.

He could have gone back to the village, but Jorra was busy and he wanted to see what she would, and could, do with the tavern wench on her own. Besides he had things to do. A strong hand ripped a branch from a nearby Ash tree, snapped it in half and carved a rune into each one, then poured power into them. They were simple artifacts, but would do for his purposes.

A nap, protected by his wards was sufficient to get him back up to speed. When he woke, he collapsed all but the most traversed entrance. It wasn't complicated, a touch and a word rotted through the supports for three of the entrances and the two natural ones he summoned an earth elemental to deal with, then ordered the elemental to watch the remaining entrance, before he returned to the village at dawn. There were maybe a dozen scrawny (at least by the standards of the villagers, they were still about as big as he was) people waiting in the square, wearing rags and wielding pitchforks that had been turned into spears. Two of them were not scrawny, but rather big, well-fed and wearing clothes that weren't rags, and what parts of the dead warrior's armor they could fit over their larger frames. The woman had the dead woman's sword, the man had a woodsman's axe, but his muscles could probably drive it through plate armor.

They looked like siblings, or maybe lovers, the whole village had a big and blonde look that made it hard to tell family from friend. But those two were the only real volunteers. Everyone else had been press-ganged into this militia. So be it. The slums of Neverwinter had produced thousands of draftees for the city's armies and they had produced him.

"Good enough. Come along." Thurlith said without further ado, turning to lead them away. 

They shuffled after him, through what should have been a field, but had become a muddy meadow due to lack of people to make it productive. He took them to the largest entry, the majority of the militia trailing behind him at a difference that balanced their desire to be part of the herd and their desire to remain away from Thurlith. The two true volunteers stuck close. They were braver than their fellows, but not brave enough to attempt to strike up conversation with him. "Form a line on either side of me, be ready to hold if anything comes out. You have spears and reach on anything that comes out."

They were more afraid of him than anything else and so formed up. He noted that the volunteers stuck together, the man on his right, the woman on the man's right. The draftee stuck next to him on the left put too much space between himself and Thurlith to be safe. A hand yanked the scrawny youth into line and the others, reluctantly followed suit. Thurlith tossed one of the branches forward and spoke the activation word. Smoke poured from it like from a bonfire. The other branch he slammed into the ground hard enough to embed a quarter of its length in dirt before speaking the activation word. A relatively gentle breeze sprang up, blowing the wrong way. He twisted the make-shift staff and the wind blew the smoke into the tunnels.

Then he waited in silence. Smoke began to trickle from the hidden entrances, one by one, as it reached them. Thurlith dispatched the earth elemental, which scared the living shit out of his militiamen. One of the volunteers recognized what was happening and, after several minutes hesitation asked for permission to begin fortifying their position. Thurlith smiled and gave her a nod. She snapped orders and the draftees leapt to obey, digging a trench with makeshift tools, cutting and placing stakes, as she and her companion set snares in the surrounding woods, in case any of the goblins tried to flank them. 

They did not. Eventually smoke began to billow back out as well, indicating the entire cavern was filled with the choking stuff. Just when Thurlith was beginning to believe that they had either found a way out, or all died without fighting, there was a single rush later in the morning, but the goblins had almost choked to death by the time they reached the entrance from wherever they'd been trying to hide from the smoke. Most of them died before ever reaching Thurlith's line. The rest were stalled by the stakes while his awkward would-be soldiers skewered them. It took no special skill.

Finally he removed the staves and burnt them to ash with a touch, reclaiming their remaining power and carefully not leaving behind anything that might be used to gain a handhold on his power. A few words and he could see that no one under the hill was alive any longer. He told them this and informed them that he would be returning to the village. To his pleasure, the woman who'd asked if they could fortify their position suggested they remain in place until the smoke cleared. 

"Of course. Afterwards, clear out the tunnels, loot everything worth having, for the village. Keep weapons and armor for the militia, but everything else will be sold or used. This village is in desperate need of coin and goods. I will not rule over paupers. Watch out for traps. I will not rule over corpses either."

"Yes, sir." She replied, ducking her head awkwardly.

"And start training your people. This is your militia now. I'll provide more support later, but when I finish my business in Narito, I will want to see what you've learned."

"Yes, sir." She wasn't awed, but she was nervous. Good enough.

He headed back to the town, carrying the corpse of the biggest of the goblins. He dumped it in the center of the square and gave a little speech about the success of their valiant militia in defeating the goblin threat, with minor emphasis on his own involvement and major emphasis on the fact that they could have done this at any time, if they'd simply had the will. Then, without a further word, he wandered into the tavern to collect Jorra. 

The succubus was still upstairs in the room the tavern-keeper had reluctantly given her. The tavern-keeper who now accosted Thurlith, demanding to know when she would get 'that bitch of a waitress back.' Her fear was mostly gone. She thought him either a noble adventurer, or some madman with a code, requiring him to fight only the mighty, for that was how he proved his strength. He was closer to the latter than he would care to admit, but he was not mad, yet.

"Given that you were going to let them put out her eye, I think you have lost any claim to her you might have had."

"The hell I did! She seduced my husband. And was duly sentenced to my service for the rest of her life for it." The tavern-keeper said, fury in every line of her plump body.

"Fair enough." She began to relax. "I pardon her." He brushed past her. 

She actually grabbed his arm in a fit of madness. "You can't—"

Thurlith spun, using her hand as a pivot and caught her by the throat, pulling her in close so he could whisper. "Oh, but I can. I follow the law, but I am the Lord of the Keep, which gives me the power of the pardon, as well as the power of execution. I have shown you one. Would you like to see the other?"

She shuddered and shook her head.

"Good girl. If you would have further revenge, well, you will have to prove yourself worthy of it. Grow strong, in whatever fashion you are able, wealth, influence, knowledge...I think wisdom will elude you, but I have been wrong before. Grow strong and make your case and perhaps I will reconsider. Or not." Thurlith released her and strode past, to the succubus's room.

Thurlith opened the door and saw Jorra, in all her naked, red-skinned glory, though missing her wings, the better to sit in a normal chair, with the tavern wench sitting opposite her, no longer badly abused, in no way injured, in fact, glowing with energy, sat opposite her, equally naked. A table full of half-eaten food filled the space between them, as did intense attraction and latent amusement.