Chandri's Revenge Pt. 01

As the sun rose Chandri landed on the roof of her home in Cherryfield. The morning sun would bring the village workers out. Fishermen, hunters, and artisans would be starting their day. She surrounded herself with her large, leathery wings like a cloak as she dropped into her backyard. Her long blond hair darkened coal black as she entered her back door, locking it behind her. Frantically Chandri dug through her cloths for something fit for travel. She threw a pair of thicker, baggy pants on her table and frantically stuffer her head into a blue wool shirt.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" Chandri chided as the shirt clung to her horns. She took a deep breath, and slowly released to calm herself. The night had not gone as planned. She had led half the villagers of Cherryfield to Foreston for the ritual. A celebration to Myria, the sleeping goddess. She had done so dozens of times in the years she spent living in Cherryfield, slowly stealing the souls of the quaint village during one night of mischief and debauchery, an celebration of the fertility and harvest aspects of Myrian worship.

"Why did tonight, of all night, have to be the night the celebration was discovered by adventurers?" she thought scornfully. Chandri concentrated, and the horns that topped her head withdrew effortlessly into her body. She pulled her shirt over her head, and turned to her mirror. She checked the shirt for holes, then snatched her pants and hastily pulled them on. Soon followed long socks, and boots.

She stared at her boots for moment, and disappointment panged in her heart. Chandri remembered when she got this boots. She spent nearly four years living in Cherryfield, working as an herbalist. She tended the wounds and ailments of the town as best she could with poultices and potions, and what she couldn't, well... it was a simple thing for a succubus of Chandri's age to mend a the common wounds of townsfolk. She delighted in it sometimes. The boots were a gift from a local carpenter, a gruff man entering the later years of his life. They were given to her as a symbol of admiration, and the carpenter taught her how to care for them as well, to make them last. He was her first victim. She almost regretted taking his soul in the throes of passion. Almost.

Regardless of how fond Chandri became of the town, she knew she couldn't stay. The adventurers had slain all but one of her congregation. All but Keveth. She would see to it the traitorous fisherman got his. The adulterous fisherman. The coward. She already possessed a portion of his soul, he would not stay hidden from her. Chandri tore through the rest of her house thoroughly, taking everything she thought she would need for her trip.

"The adventurers came from the south," she thought to herself. She had heard them speaking, before the violence started. Half of the adventurers joined in on their fun, losing themselves to the primal beat of her thralls' music. Sampling from their feast, imbibing their scared ale. Once the orgy had started, two of them threw their inhibitions to the wind. A human who joined the band, and the draconic one. Burntscale Ashwyrm. He came eagerly to her, the first to offer his virility as tribute to Myria. As the villagers canvased herself and Burntscale with the sacred oils, she could feel the heat from his life force, and was impressed with the size of his cock. She had never had one of the dragonblooded as a lover, she was unsure what awakened her desire more if she were to be honest with herself. As their bodies writhed in passion, his mind was lost to her. His knowledge slipped into her with every great thrust of his thickness into her, enhancing her own delight. When he released his seed into her, he released his very essence. She fed on his spirit and he was no more.

"That's where it all went wrong... I shouldn't have been so bold," she thought as she stared into her mirror. With another deep breath her breasts shrunk from a bounty to a handful, and her skin darkened to a tone of sweet milk chocolate. Chandri pulled her pack on her shoulders, grabbed her walking stick, and left again out of the back door. She placed one last spell on her door, to summon hellfire to engulf her cottage once she was far enough away. She lept over her fence, and made her way down the road. It would be a long walk to this... Estival City. She knew the way however, Burntscale had shown her. Burntscale and the gnome... Bidli. As Cherryfield disappeared behind her she released a haughty chuckle. She would see these adventurers pay. If it was unsafe for her in the town that she had made home, if her friends would lay dead in an abandoned villages square, then they would not know fame. They would not know glory, or wealth. They would not know peace.

It was midday before Chandri reached Foreston again. She followed the main road to the town square, where the slaughter had taken place. The adventurer's seemed to have moved on. Two graves were dug for their fallen, but her friends were left to rot in the daylight. Chandri felt hatred boil in the pit of her stomach. Chandri walked up to the body of one of her followers, propped up against the statue of Myria. When she moved to Cherryfield she had taken a form similar to her goddess. Wide hips, buxom chest, flowing blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes with a warm smile. A smile, she thought, like a mother greeting her children who had been gone for so long. Now the only smile she could muster was one filled with bitterness. She cradled the man's head close to her chest, and ran her hand down the deep gash that cut him from shoulder to groin. As she did so, green flames crackled in her palm, sealing the wound.

She knew the boy well. Joresh, the butcher's son. She knew he had a crush on her while she masqueraded as an herbalist. He would pretend to have maladies if only to spend a few moments with her. He always brought her a slice of pie when his mother had finished the baking. Joresh had eagerly taken to worshipping her goddess, on more than one occasion declaring that Chandri was a spitting image of Myria. You must be truly blessed, he would say, that a goddess should choose to look like you. Joresh was a sweet boy, naïve. She had, on previous nights, avoided being intimate with him. She knew that if she did... he was too young to resist her. Once he had tasted her, either his own boyish crush or her infernal nature would have ensnared him. She knew she would enjoy the vibrant, candied taste of his soul but she knew she would feel guilt for doing so.

Now, now the butcher's son lay dead in her arms. She couldn't control her hunger, it had been so long since she had feasted on a soul in its entirety. Too long had she allowed nibbles to sustain her, because she foolishly fell in love with a podunk town. She laid Joresh down, and began moving nearby bodies together. They may have met their end because of her, but she do right by them in death.

As she struggled to lift Samantha, the town's seamstress over shoulder she heard a crash. From a nearby alleyway a man emerged clumsily.

"H..hey there!" he shouted, his voice unsteady. He stumbled toward her, a bottle of wine in his hand.

"Keveth," Chandri thought. Her eyes flared in fury. Keveth hiccupped, as he stumbled closer up to her. Tears streamed uncontrolled down his face, and he dropped his bottle. He attempted to wrap his arms around Chandri, who shoved him off. She knew she couldn't keep holding the seamstress if he grabbed her. Keveth landed on his ass, and laughed. It was a warm laugh, of relief. His relief would be short lived, she thought to herself.

"I'm so glad... I'm so glad someone stopped! There was a horrible battle here last night," Keveth breathed deep and attempted to stymie his tears before continuing, "Every... my neighbors.. my friends..." Keveth couldn't contain himself.

"Oh god they are all dead... I... I killed two of them myself... I had to," he weeped, "or they would have killed me to! I have a child, I had to live!" he shouted, begging for absolution. It was clear that after the adventurers had left he drowned himself in a bottle. A combination of guilt, and sorrow kept him tethered to this tragedy hours after safety left.

"It's okay Keveth," Chandri stated icily. "You will be forgiven."

Keveth knew that voice. He stared into Chandri's eyes, mystified. "B..b...but... you... Monster!"

"It matters not." Chandri said dismissively, and crouched infront of him, the seamstress still slung over her shoulder. The pupils of Chandri's eyes turned a sickening yellow, as she gazed into Keveth's. In that moment they were connected, she easily grabbed hold of his weak spirit. He truly was pathetic, she thought. He had no chance of escape.

"Stand Keveth. Help me round up our friends." She commanded coldly. Keveth rose almost mechanically. The glimmer of life gone from his eyes. Together they piled the bodies, nearly twenty in total. Sweat stained Chandri's cloths. It was nearly midday now. She hadn't slept, and she was never the strongest. As Keveth placed the final corpse on the pile, Chandri commanded his attention.

"Keveth, do you know what will happen to these people once I am done here?"

"No mistress," Keveth responded flatly.

"I will burn their bodies in our Goddess' sacred flames. Their spirits will no longer be tethered to this world, and they will join Myria in her great sleep. Doesn't that sound wonderful, Keveth?"

"Yes mistress," Keveth answered monotonously. Chandri pursed her lips.

"Keveth, did you ever keep Myria in your heart? Did you ever venerate her as your one true goddess?"

"No mistress." Chandri had always thought that. The fisherman was simple, and his wife was mean. She had no doubts that Keveth only joined for the celebrations of fertility. She had long suspected that his child may not even be is, they hardly shared the same features. It mattered not. Chandri picked up her walking stick and thrust it into the air. Fiendish runes crawled up its shaft, and floated into the air above the bodies. As she spoke her infernal incantation, a ritual circle comprised of a deep red light carved itself in the air. Embers descended from the circle, and the pile of bodies began to ignite. Quickly, her congregation roared to life as a bonfire, and their bodies were claimed by the flames.

She turned and approached Keveth. Her once delicate fingers shifted into claws. She released her hold on Keveth, and has recognition dawned on his face she lunged. The fisherman screamed as her claws tore into his flesh, and with every swipe, with every rend of his body, with every new scream she tried to crush down a feeling in her stomach. A swelling of regret, of failure for the fate of her followers. With every slash Chandri felt less satisfied, and as she cut open his belly she began to shed tears. She drove her hand deep in and grasped his heart.

"You will never know peace Keveth. Never," she whispered, and she sunk her claws into his muscle. Keveth would never see Cherryfield again. Chandri removed herself from scene. Her cloths now stained with Keveth's life blood. She picked up her walking stick, and slung her backpack back over her shoulders. She looked to the fire one more time, stifled her tears, and made her way south. Estival City was three days away, and she would begin her vengeance there.

Near dusk Chandri happened upon a caravan stopped off the side of the road. Chandri walked with a weariness she had not felt in ages. Her shoulders sagged, her steps were labored, and her eyes were bloodshot. She saw two men with spears posted up at the end of a wagon, and she ambled toward them. They took notice of her relatively quickly, she did nothing to hide her approach. Her steps were heavy, and she leaned on her walking stick. One of the guards called out for her to identify herself. She made no effort. They eyed her carefully, one of them leveling his spear toward her.

"This is your last warning, identify yourself!" He proclaimed. Chandri stumbled in reply. She was close enough now, they could see the blood staining her shirt and pants. The guard dropped his spear and ran closer to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. The second guard, a woman, followed her partner.

"Miss are you okay?!" the guard urgently demanded, his voice sweet with a tone of concern.

Chandri purposefully dropped to her knees before him, placing all of her weight on her walking stick, her head slung low.

"Miss! Miss what happened?" the guard intoned. Chandri raised her head to reveal the redness of her eyes, her quivering lips.

"There... there was a massacre at the abandoned village the fork," she quietly replied. "I happened upon the scene this morning... it was so horrible!" She dropped her stick and lunged into the guards arms, embracing him. She buried herself in his broad shoulder, her hands dragged across his skin before clasping together behind his back. She felt his muscles through his shirt, and she could feel the vibrancy of his life force. Chandri shuddered in his arms.

"I... I did my best. I set a pyre..." she pushed away from his chest and looked to the female guard, "There were nearly twenty. I did my best before... before... before a beast appeared. A great beast, with hundreds of teeth!" she cried out. "It tore one man apart... I couldn't get him onto the pyre."

Chandri placed her head back into the man's chest. He wrapped his arms around her, and rubbed her back. The guards decided quickly to bring her into the wagon circle. They approached the campfire where Chandri was greeted by nearly ten new faces. There were only three wagons total among the circle. The guard seated her next to the fire, and gave her his cloak. He said she must be freezing. Chandri had no need to fear the cold, but she played into the gesture all the same. They gave her a bowl of stew, and she told them a grandiose lie.

"I came from Cherryfield, a halfday's walk west of Foreston. When I arrived in town, I hadn't expected to see anyone. No one had lived in Foreston for years, not since the well dried up. In the town square, surrounding the statue of the goddess... there... bodies littered the square," she choked out the last few words. "I don't know how it could happen... nearly twenty folk I counted as I dragged them to a pyre."

"That's mighty kind of you, someone so small must have had such a hard time," the older merchant next to her said. He put his hand on her shoulder to reassure her, like a father to his child. Chandri sniffled, and returned to him a warm smile."

"I couldn't just leave them... They deserved some kind of rights. So I tried to gather them, started the pyre, and said a prayer. May their souls find their way..." Chandri said quietly, with false reverence.

Across the campfire, a dark haired woman whose face was covered with scars sharpened her longsword. She threw Chandri a skeptical look.

"If you set them all to pyre, how did this monster get one?" The hardened woman placed her whetstone to the side. Chandri was sure the woman was capable with that blade, it appeared to be older and shared some of its owner's nicks. Chandri bit her lip, an exaggerated gesture, and looked into the warrior woman's eyes. Brown eyes. They didn't gleam, sparkle, or twinkle. There was no joy to be found in those eyes, only the certain hardness of a difficult life. She turned her head aside, as though she couldn't bear to look any longer.

"I heard a noise from one of the alleyways... When I went to see a man was being torn apart by the beast behind a house. I... I'm an herbalist by trade," she looked back up to the woman, Chandri's eyes pleading and filled with fear. "I'm not... I'm not strong like you. I got scared and I ran..." Chandri's head sunk low. Around her merchants cooed, and tried to soothe her. She kept her head lowered. She knew she needed to sell the lie to this warrior, or things could become difficult for her. She didn't wish to travel any longer, so she hoped the bitch would bend.

"You did more than most would I reckon, praise Kord for that," the warrior said. Her gravelly voice rang like the sweetest chimes to Chandri. Peace settled on the campfire once more. One of the women in the circled offered Chandri new cloths. They were made for men, and a little baggy, but altogether better than the bloody ones she was wearing. She gratify accepted them, mentally noting that this woman was not to be devoured in her sleep.

Soon after the merchants began filing off into their wagons to sleep. All that were left was the warrior woman and Chandri. The woman laid out her bedroll next to the fire, and laid herself down. Chandri pretended to stare into the fire, prodding the burning logs with a stick. She snuck glances at the warrior for some time, studying the hills and valleys of the woman's body. She wore no armor, thought it was nearby propped against her sword and shield. Her shirt was tight against her frame. Her breasts didn't appear to be much larger than Chandri's were currently, but she most certainly was in better shape. The warrior's naked arms intrigued Chandri, as her gazed caressed every inch of her muscular biceps. As the woman moved in her sleep, her shirt pulled up revealing her taught abdomen to the night sky. Chandri licked her lips.

Quietly she stood up, and tip toed around the camp. Snores could be heard from each of the wagons. The only ones who seemed to be awake were the guards, watching either side of the road. Chandri waved her hand in the air, whispering an incantation toward the guards. Upon the completion of her spell the guards yawned. They shuffled back and forth, and struggled with all of their might, but couldn't help it. The two guards found themselves cuddled together against a wagon wheel, fast asleep.

Chandri snuck back over to the warrior woman's bedroll, and snuggled in beside her, prospering her head up on one of her hands. The woman did not seem to awaken. Chandri brushed the woman's coarse black hair away from her neck and gently placed her lips against the woman's skin. Her touch felt pleasantly warm, and the woman moaned slightly as Chandri's kiss turned into a small nip. Chandri inhaled, the woman's scent an intoxicating mixture of sweat sweet from hard work, oil, and... lilac? Just a hint. Chandri's hunger grew. Chandri's tail slowly emerged from her backside. Chandri undid the laces to the woman's pants, and loosened them. She reached in, her fingers searching for the warrior's lips. She ran her index finger along her nether lips while her tail tenderly caressed her inner thigh, feeling her muscle.

The woman began to regain consciousness. Chandri's hand left the woman's privates to caress her cheek. Before the warrior could speak Chandri began to work her charm. The fiends' eyes stared deeply, mischievously into the warriors. The woman began to startle, she looked as though she might scream but found herself... unwilling.

"What are you doing?" The warrior whispered, clearly uncertain and startled. Chandri drew the woman's face closer to her and whispered back, "I've seen so much today... please... make me feel alive," she pleaded. Chandri's voice with thick with need, and desire. She closed her eyes and placed her lips softly on the warriors. Chandri's kissed was pleasant, warm, and welcome. In the back of the woman's mind she felt as though something was amiss, that this wasn't right, it didn't make sense, but that voice in her mind was shush. She heard Chandri's voice instead, urging her to give in. Urging her to embrace desire, embrace life. Embrace need. As the woman's arms wrapped around Chandri, Chandri knew she had woman. The woman's will was broken, she was hers.

Chandri broke their kiss and straddled the woman. Chandri unlaced her own pants, and pushed them down her thighs before lowering herself back down to the woman face. Chandri's lips met the warrior's as her tail entered into the woman's breeches. Quickly the tip of her tail found the warriors lips, and as their tongues began to dance in eachother's mouths Chandri's tail worked its way between the woman's lips. The woman's arms embraced Chandri again, moaning slightly into the fiend's mouth.