Guard Duty: The Succubus
"You ever wonder why we do this?" Eckham asks.
"Cause the pay is fucking amazing." I say, not bothering to look up from the furrow I'm digging with the butt of my spear. One of these days I'll hit water doing this, and when it's not raining too.
"No it's not." I can hear Eckham's loose helmet knocking against his skull when he shakes his head. I hate Eckham shifts, he cannot shut up. It's eight hours, all he has to do is say a handful of words like every other guard does and then go the fuck home. That's it! No, Eckham has to open his stupid flapping mouth and talk about things I do not care about.
"Duty is our purpose." I say, quoting the City Watch motto. I do the job for the pay, sure it's shit, but it's better than most any other job in this horrible cesspool of a city. All I have to do is stand here in the armor the city provided, holding the weapon they pay for, watching the gate that hardly anyone comes through. This is maybe the best job I've ever had.
"I don't know, doesn't seem to cut it." Eckham has this whiny, wheedling voice. It's like a rusty nail digging into your ears. I think they put me with him because every other guard threatened to cut his head off and I just bury my feelings about Eckham deep into my gut where it festers and causes me late night pains.
"Guardsmen!" We both stand a little straighter and look around.
"That sounded like Captain Jehvez." Eckham observes. I blink at him.
"It was. He is right there." I say, pointing into the city at the Watch Captain. Jehvez is a stern, fatherly sort of Captain. Iron gray moustache and an entirely bald head that he never bothers to confine within a helmet. The Watch Captain also gets to wear fancier armor and clothing than we do. He gets to wear a plate cuirass under a red striped tabard, where we are issued chainmail coats that itch and pinch and gather sweat. He gets polished greaves and forearm plate, where I get none of that except the armored leather boots that stop halfway up my shin on a good day. He also doesn't have to wear the stupid kettle helm but I do get a single pauldron on my right shoulder, so I have one piece of plate armor to present to an enemy.
I also don't have enemies, other than the nightly drunkards that roam the streets. So I suppose in the end, it's not so bad.
"Captain." I greet him. "What brings you to our fine little gate."
The Captain looks around. Our gate is anything but fine. The only thing that comes through is pitch from the peat bog and that only comes once a day. It's due in an hour. Between then and now we just watch over the dried ruts in the road and keep a watchful eye for a lost tourist or bored peasant. The Captain knows this.
"Eckham, you're going to take the next few hours alone. I'm borrowing Tristram." I shoulder my spear and fall in step with the Captain. I do not need a written invitation.
"See you next shift, Tristram!" Eckham calls out.
"Please tell me it's dangerous and I might die." I say to Captain Jehvez, once we're out of earshot.
"I don't know, it might be. A patrol went missing in the sewers and we need you to wake up the Sentinel." Captain Jehvez says.
"You know, he hates when people call him that." I say, scratching my ear under the stupid helmet. "That's why he doesn't like helping you. Sir."
"I know. But he likes you." Captain Jehvez says with a shrug. "Besides, if he goes looking then he only needs to take you with him and I don't need to pull any more guards from gates or patrols. We've got that festival coming and I need men up here, not down in the sewers."
"Glad to be of service." I say. Captain Jehvez misses the sarcasm, or doesn't care. We walk the streets and people part around the Captain, not so much for me. It takes half an hour to walk to the barracks, with the attached office and armory and mess hall. I head for the mess hall, stopping at the horse trough to fill my helmet with water.
Captain Jehvez waits patiently by the door and opens it for me so I can carry the helmet of water inside.
The curtains are drawn, as he prefers. I nod and Captain Jehvez rips the curtains open, flooding the dusty room with sunlight. He doesn't stir, head down on the bar top, snoring like a horse. One enormous hand is wrapped around an empty mug that's been tipped on it's side, the other hangs limply down beside his stool legs. I stand beside him.
"Hey. Godfrey. Wake up."
He snorts and opens one eye.
"Fuck off." He mumbles, voice thick with sleep. Then he closes that eye.
"I'm gonna douse you." I say, tapping my foot.
"I'll break your nose." He doesn't even open an eye this time. I dump the helmet of water over his head and he leaps up, stumbling on the stool that tangles his legs and cursing wildly, shaking the droplets of water off his face like a wet dog. He rubs his eyes free and glares at me.
"I told you." I say, shaking my helmet out and plunking it back on my head. He takes a wild swing and I easily step out of the way of it. He rubs his face and runs a hand over that short stubble he calls hair.
"Fuck you, Tristram." He growls the words. He spots Jehvez and offers the most half-hearted salute I have ever seen. "Hey, Captain."
"Sentinel." The Captain says. Godfrey really hates that nickname, it's a mockery of how he watches over the bar and out of spite he continues to stay at the bar. It's a vicious cycle. He told me once that he didn't like it so I stopped calling him by the nickname and now he likes me.
"What you want, Tristram?" He asks.
"Gotta go find some lost guards." I say. "Wanna go for a walk in the sewers, I hear they're lovely this time of year."
Godfrey rolls his neck and the pop of his bones echoes in the mess hall. He's a mountain of a man, once upon a time he was a famous knight until he gave it up to become a special attachment to the watch. His armor is piled in the corner of the mess hall, along with the longsword he prefers, a sword that I tried to lift once.
I failed.
Godfrey pulls on a cotton undershirt, tops that with chainmail, then straps a plate cuirass over it. Greaves, pauldrons, gauntlets, armored boots, a great helm that he buckles to his leather belt. It takes him a while to get it all on, but when it is he is the most terrifying figure. I can't imagine what facing him on a battlefield must have been. A head taller than any other man, unstoppable in that plate. I asked him about the dents once and he shrugged, said he'd taken a few blows in a few fights. He slides his longsword into the scabbard on his back and checks his straps.
"Alright. Let's go. Good to see you Captain." Godfrey makes it very clear that he is lying about that. Captain Jehvez does not care. I ditch my spear, since it won't be useful in the sewer. I'll rely on my handy sword, and I grab a buckler from the rack near the door. The guard has small weaponHe grabs my arm as I make to follow Godfrey out into the street.
"They went in at the market grates, start there."
"Yes sir." I say, then I have to jog to catch up with Godfrey. People part for him a lot faster than they parted for the Captain, Godfrey isn't just a rock in a river, he redirects the whole damn flow. I walk beside him, keeping pace as best I can. Godfrey could easily outpace me but he trundles, that's a good word for it. Trundle. He trundles his way through the streets and into the market, where the packed in crowd makes it harder to part for the armored giant, but they try.
"You think they just got lost?" Godfrey asks, ducking under the stone arch of the sewer gate. I fish out my issued key and sidle past Godfrey to insert it into the heavy iron grate, wincing at the rusty squeak of the lock that pierces my ears.
"Probably. What else would it be?"
"Goblins. Rat-kin. Sneaky orcs. Demon. One of those sludge creatures. Psychopathic human. Errant mage." Godfrey ticks off options and ducks through the doorway, I follow him and close the grate behind us, locking it again.
"Necromancer. Zombie. Vampire. Poisonous gas. Tunnel collapse." He's still ticking them off.
"Alright, enough, I get it!" I say, pushing him ahead uselessly. It's like trying to push over a mountain. He chuckles and walks the right hand path of the sewer. There's a channel filled with all manner of horrible things below us, running down the center of all the tunnels that spread out under the city. Someone was thinking ahead when they built this place, no shit in the streets here. What a bastion of civility. The soft red light of low gas lamps lights the paths. Godfrey stops at each intersection, there are a lot of them, and sniffs the air. Then he picks a path and follows it, confident like he knows what he's doing.
"What are you doing?" I ask, at the third stop.
"Guessing. You wanna walk where it smells worst?" He asks, looking back at me.
"No." I say.
"Willing to bet they didn't want to either. Captain say what they were looking for?" He asks, trundling ahead on the right hand path. Apparently it smells better than the rest, but it all smells like shit and horrible water to me.
"Nope, just that they went missing." I say, scratching under my kettle helmet. I should not have used it to truck water around, now the already shitty lining is wet and rubbing my scalp wrong.
"Level look low to you?" He asks, pointing down. I look down and shrug, settling the shitty kettle helmet back on my head.
"I'm not a sewer engineer, Godfrey." I say. "But sure, looks like it's not flowing as deep here."
"Hair's standing on end." Godfrey says, reaching up and gripping the hilt of his sword, drawing it and laying the flat of the blade against his pauldron. "Something's up down here."
I draw my sword too, trying not to see just how badly my hand is shaking. Godfrey has been fighting for longer than I've been alive and something has his hair standing on end? I have to fight the urge to run but then I'd be away from the armored, killing machine of someone that is on the edge of being a friend.
"Deep breaths, I know it sucks down here but deep breaths." Godfrey says without looking back at me. "I'll watch out for you."
That does help. Knowing he's watching out for me, the deep breaths taste like sewer and that is not helpful to me. We walk until we hit another intersection and find out why the level is lower. One of the branches has been blocked up. It's not dammed up or anything, it's just, dry all the way up the channel.
"Helmet." Godfrey says, pointing. I see it, there's a kettle helmet laying up on the path ahead. My heart is pounding now. We take the path and Godfrey picks the helmet up, turning it over in his hand. I don't see any blood on it, so that's good. I also don't see any guard, living or dead, so that's less good. I look around the tunnel and hear something, faint. Like...a song.
"You hear that?" I ask. Godfrey looks at me, then shakes his head, looking around.
"What do you hear?" He asks. I cock my head and listen but I don't hear it anymore.
"Nothing. Just, hearing things, I guess." I say. Godfrey shrugs and sets the helmet back down, looking down the path. I wonder if he's hearing something too, cause his steps are slower and softer. He's trying to keep his armor from making noise so I do the same thing, not that I'm wearing as much armor as he is. Every so often down here there are rooms set off from the path for the engineers, various supplies and things they might need to clear a clogged pipe or something. One of those rooms is just ahead of us. I see Godfrey flex his fingers on his sword and take a deep breath at the edge of the doorway.
He turns, ready to strike!
"Found them." He says, letting his sword point fall to the stone with a tiny clink. I peer around and see that he is right. The guards are bound by thick rope, unconscious and sprawled about the small stone room. They don't seem to have been beaten into the unconsciousness, they're just laying there, like they're sleeping.
"Godfrey." I whisper. He looks at me. I point further down the tunnel where there is a soft yellow light pouring from another doorway. It can't be a doorway though, there aren't that many of these rooms. Godfrey tilts his head and squints at it, confused. He motions with his jaw and we creep toward the light.
"A...portal?" I ask. It's a swirling oval of red, yellow, orange colors against what seems like a black background, set into the stone of the sewer wall somehow. "Why?"
I stare at it and feel...an urge...to step through it. I blink and try to shake the feeling away but it's growing stronger. I fight my legs but they start to move toward it. My hand reaches out. Godfrey slaps it and looks at me. Then I see something in his eyes that looks an awful lot like fear mixed with realization. And I can see him leaning toward the portal like a giant tree, fighting the wind.
"Aw, fuck. You heard music, didn't you?" He says, grimacing. The pull gets stronger, like someone has tied a rope around my limbs and is dragging them into the portal. Godfrey's feet scrape on the stone ground, he's fighting it harder than I am and he's much stronger than I am.
"Yeah..." I manage, until the pull is too much to fight. My hand plunges into the portal and is wrapped in a very pleasant warmth,
like a nice bath. My fingers tingle and there is not one bit of pain, which is apparently permission for my body to give in to the
pull of the portal. I step through and Godfrey makes a choked noise. I step through the portal and the first thing I notice is a smell that is notably not the sewer. It smells like vanilla and cinnamon. It doesn't look like the sewer either. It is a moderately sized room, lit by soft yellow lamps. There's a small, round table with two red, plush chairs beside it. There is a four poster bed, an enormous bed with a white fur spread over the top of the red sheets. There is a glass faced cabinet filled with bottles of various alcohols.
Godfrey steps through and looks around the room, shaking his head.
"Fuck." He says.
"What?" I ask.
"More guards." A woman's voice scares the ever-loving shit out of me. "I don't have time for...Godfrey? Is that you?"
She seems to appear from thin air in front of us, hands on her hips, glasses on the end of her nose. She has long, reddish hair that flows back between two, curling, black horns that sprout from her forehead. Her skin is a sort of dark gray, or something close to that. She's wearing a thick fur trimmed cloak, red fabric that covers her from shoulder to ankle, trimmed in white fur matching the one on the bed. It's tied around her waist with a matching belt.
"Quinn." Godfrey says, stuck in place.
"Succubus." I say, closing my eyes and realizing it. "Of course."
"Oh, Godfrey, isn't he cute." She says, taking my cheek in a palm and tilting my head up. "But, without this silly helmet. Your guards here are so fond of them."
"Yeah. I know." Godfrey says. "What are you doing here, Quinn?"
"Oh, you know! Festival coming, good opportunity to gather some ingredients that I need, nothing special." She removes my helmet and kicks it back through the portal.
"How do you two know each other." I ask. I am rooted in place, arms and legs locked, helpless. She uses a fingertip to touch my lips and I look over at Godfrey.
"Tried to kill her once." Godfrey says.
"Four times." She says, looking at him and smiling. "We used to play this game. He would hunt me down, try to run a knife through my heart, then..."
She moves to Godfrey and taps his nose gently with her finger.
"Lost your touch, have you?" She asks. She looks at me, then at Godfrey, then purses her lips in thought. She flicks her wrist at me and my free hand lifts to my shoulder.
"Um. What?" I ask. My fingers move of their own accord and unstrap the pauldron on my right shoulder, slipping it off down my arm. I bend over and set the armor down, next to the sword. She settles on the edge of the bed and watches, Godfrey still stuck in place.
"Thought you didn't have time." Godfrey mutters.
"Oh, for you, I have all the time in the world. How long until they report you two missing? Hours, I'd guess."
I step out of my boots and look at Godfrey, worried. He doesn't look worried. He looks annoyed with himself.
"Um. While this is fun and all." My mouth clamps shut and she tuts at me.
"Keep going." She says.
I unbelt my leather belt and lay it down, on the growing pile. I pull off my chainmail shirt and the sweat soaked cotton undershirt and set those down on the floor too. That leaves me with just pants on and apparently I'm allowed to keep those on. My body isn't my own anymore.
"What's his name?" She asks Godfrey.
"Tristram." He answers her.
"Well, Tristram." She stands from the edge of the bed and claps her hands. A door opens, apparently this portal room is part of a huge house or something, and a bucket of water slides in just off the floor, along with clothes and soap. "Godfrey and I have an agreement. Now, I could just have you go spend some time with your guard friends but...well, look at you. Aren't you just a cute little treat. So, this one time, I'm willing to cut you in."
"Quinn..." Godfrey says, she shushes him. She unties the knot of the belt and tosses it on the bed, holding her robe together with her other hand. She parts the robe a little, revealing her belly button, she circles the finger of her other hand around it and then rubs her flat stomach with the palm of her hand. She points her fingers to the floor and pushes the robe open a little more and I see that she is wearing boots that come up just past her knee, gold trimmed black plate armored boots with thigh guards. The leather straps that hold the thigh guards tantalize and tease me, I don't know why but the straps do something for me.
I'm surprised that I don't feel anything happening for me.
I also see her gold trimmed black panties, resting high on her hips. She puts one leg forward and the robe falls away from it, revealing a toned thigh that also does something for me.
But, it doesn't.
She parts the robe more, shrugging it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. She is wearing matching arm guards from wrist to upper arm. Gold chains dangle from the underwire of her bra, the black and gold fabric just like the rest of her clothes, cupping her tits. They are firm and I can see the outline of her nipples pressing out against the fabric. She uses both her hands to cup them, rubbing the fabric and moaning.
"Godfrey." She says, pouting and looking at the giant. "He doesn't seem to want me. He's softer than my furs."
"You're being mean." Godfrey says. She giggles, bending at the waist and peeling back one of the cups of her bra so I can see the hard nipple, she uses to fingers of her other hand to pinch and tease it. She walks to me and the bucket follows her, magically.
"You smell like a sewer." She says, in way of explanation. Not that she needed to explain, I figured it out all on my own. She is taller than I am, so much so that when she is close to me it leaves her tits as the only thing I can see. She squats down and I look down, wondering how the fuck I am still not tenting my trousers.
She pulls them down, tugging them off my ass and down my legs, then has me step out of each leg, leaving me naked, my soft cock just dangling there, uselessly. She holds it in the palm of her hand and I do not know how it's still soft.
"It's me." She says. "I'm doing that. You're not broken, not yet."
She grins at me. Then she looks at Godfrey and flicks a wrist. He grumbles as his body unstraps his armor and weapons, laying them in a pile just like I did. She turns her attention back to me. She swirls a finger through the bucket of water and seems satisfied. It rises up to eye level with me and tips over, the water flooding over my head and down my body. Somehow the bucket never runs out.
http://globalblogs.cse.umn.edu/2016/06/secrets-of-melbourne.html
http://blog.unimed.coop.br/blog/saibamais/entry/34_motivos_para_comemorar
https://videa.hu/tagok/ziwidera-2182341
https://addons.videolan.org/u/purovufe/
https://www.pling.com/u/purovufe/
https://share.krita.org/u/purovufe/
https://www.vingle.net/posts/2861416
https://www.vauva.fi/keskustelu/3590070/ystava-hakusessa
https://www.vintage-everyday.com/2020/01/la-paz-1980s.html
https://www.webfrance.com/communaute/profile/58008-hunomuba/
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