>Sha’var left me alone in the kitchen to recover. Funny, since the worst of my injuries today were caused by her. Instead of watching me scratch pointlessly at my chest in some attempt to dull the ache, she left to wander the keep. >Even as she left my sight I still somehow had a decent bead on where she was. I don’t think I would be able to describe the distance in actual terms of measurement, but I had a decent gist of where she was at any moment. >There was what felt like a soft rumble in the back of my head. Seeing as I had never felt it before I ended up in this state, I assumed it had something to do with whatever that demon was up to. The only problem was that it wouldn’t leave or subside. >It was tiresome, and dull. Not that it was painful, but I would have given anything to have relief from it. Nothing could be done, though; it’s not like the demon had told me how our connection worked. Instead I just had to put up with whatever was bouncing between us. >Steadying myself, I finally pull myself off of the floor and kitchen wall. It was time to at least survey the carnage Sha’var had caused in her summoning and during my time unconscious. Even before I reached the door, I could smell the iron heavy tinge of blood in the air. Stepping over the pieces of shattered door, I braced myself for what I would see. >It wasn’t enough. I could see bodies crumpled in unnatural ways, with cracks in the stone wall just above each corpse. Whether they were broken before or after the demon had thrown them, I couldn’t tell. >However, in a way, the men who had met their end against unforgiving stone had some mercy; they were recognizable. Every other man laid in a mire of gore and shattered steel. It was hard to tell where one body began and another ended. --- >She had a distinct method of dispatching these men, I could see from a common wound among the dead. A hole in the middle of the chest. I had seen that kind of wound before, on poor souls caught on the receiving end of siege weaponry. Yet everyone here had met their end by the bare hands of a demon, rather than any weapon devised by mortals. >Bodies were caught in several degrees of brokenness. Some simply had the signature hole, right through their armor. Others had broken or even removed limbs, Sha’var likely breaking their sword arms before going in for the kill. I shudder as I remember how casually she deflected my attack and slammed her palm into my chest. Had she put more effort and energy into her counter attack, I would be laying dead, shattered even, like the rest of these men. >I covered my mouth as I suddenly felt the urge to retch, uncontrollably bending over as my other hand clutched at my stomach. “It’s like a butcher’s stall in here.” I thought, swallowing hard to keep the contents of my last meal inside me. While I fight the sucking sensation in my throat urging me to heave, I look around the room at the color and markings of the armor the dead have on them. None I recognize. We had been routed. >”Don’t be foolish, Pactbearer.” The demon’s voice was in my head again, as if she heard me comment on her handiwork. No, of course she heard me. We were ‘one’ now, as she put it. If there was a way to hide my thoughts from her, I had no knowledge of it. “These men are not fit to eat. The muscle of warriors is tough to chew, and I do not have the patience to wait for the flesh to become tender in soup.” >That did it. With her casual attitude to eating the slain soldiers here, and the roiling wave of what must have been disappoint from her, I couldn’t keep my stomach under control. Falling forward, my hands caught in the pools of blood staining the dining hall floor and I began to vomit. --- >I had seen the freshly dead before. I have even killed several men, mostly thugs and highwaymen, by my own hand. I was no stranger to death. It was a slaughter performed so thoroughly, and bodies left to lay so casually that was too much. >She must have felt the pain of my heaving, as by the time I had managed to recover she was standing in the entry way to the dining hall. I couldn’t even bring myself to stand yet, so I could only look up at her while on all fours. “You’re a monster.” I panted, my head falling back down. >My words hardly phased her. The dull rumbling of what I assume was boredom hardly changed as I stared at a pile of my own sick. “A monster is what Gwyndil desired. A monster her descendant was given.” She answered, with a matter-of-fact tone as if she was telling me the weather. ”Pactbearer, you shouldn’t dwell on the passing of mortals. There is business that we must attend to.” > That got me to look up, shaking my head in disbelief. “What business? I’ve got a demon in my head, and my soul is beyond redemption!” I slam my hand down, too incensed to pay mind to the sound or the splash of blood being sent flying. “Do you already intend to conquer the four kingdoms, beast? Am I just your unwitting summoner?” >There was laughter, both in my head and straight from her lips. “Conquer must wait, but it is good to hear that my Pactbearer has already set his sights on a prize. No, my human. I need to recuperate my lost energy.” She grinned, examining her hand and nails for a moment. A foggy haze sneaked into my head, but she straightened up her posture and it slipped away. I had a feeling I would be learning the exact nature of what that sensation meant sooner rather than later. --- >”Summoning takes a lot out of a demon. Something of a cost on our side to step over. I will need that energy to disguise myself if we are to travel beyond this place. Or do you believe the paladins you fear so much will let me walk right past city gates?” Despite my hesitation to do so normally, I finally let myself look over her towering figure properly. I had to examine her closer than merely labeling her entire form an abomination to avert my gaze from. >Her body was covered in a purple fur, deep in color, yet short in length. Underneath I could spot black skin, that matched the flesh of her lips and...unmentionables. There were oddly placed scales on portions of her limbs, black as her skin but pushing out of the fur. In the evening hours, she could no doubt stalk a forest or even the back alleys of a city unseen. >As my gaze ran over her chest and the teasing trace of black between her legs, her pose changed. Her hands wrapped under her chest to push her breasts out, and she widened her stance. I could feel a bubble of amusement in the back of my mind, confirming what she thought matched the fanged grin on her face. Even worse, the hazy sensation returned. She was planning something, I was certain of that much. >Shaking my head in a mix of disgust and embarrassment, I took the chance to examine her face. It was the muzzle of an anthro for sure, but I couldn’t pin it down to once species. It vaguely reminded me of the strange hyena folk I had once seen, who were visiting our country to trade. Behind her fanged maw sat pointed ears, more prominently covered along the upper ridges in the same scales that dotted her body. Then, of course, the horns. --- >I remember hearing myths of demon horns, how they were made out of stone and as hard as steel. Yet, I could see they were no different than the horns of a ram. Some kind of bone for sure, as the gray colored protrusions stretching out and back from the top of her head were a stark contrast to the mane underneath and between them. A dark, almost dull brown wash of hair rested on her head. Cut short most definitely, with how suddenly and oddly the hair on the back of head stopped. It was relieving to see that demons at least understood the concept of grooming. >Every time I look at something too long, I am reminded that Sha’var is connected to me. She runs a hand down the back of her head, and I feel a wave of emotion pass over me. I blink as I start to stand onto my feet, “You’re concerned about your hair, of all things?” >”I like how it looks longer, but you only have to be grabbed by your hair once to decide it isn’t worth the risk.” She explains, ruffling the back of her head. I take a moment to imagine the purple demon with hair like those of the women back home. Dark brown hair down to her shoulders, dancing every time she turned her head. “No, Pactbearer, longer than that.” My imagination refuses to play along with this ridiculous idea further and I draw a blank. >Walking over to the demon, and out of the pond of gore she made, I continue my assessment of her body. Blood still soaked her forearms, but it was drying, and her hands were mostly cleaned off. It seemed that in her absence she found time to wipe off her hands. Five fingers, just like most people. What was striking was her nails, no, claws. Of course someone’s who’s preferred method of killing was a strike right through the chest would have sharpened claws. Her were gray, similar to her horns, and easily over an inch long. She clicks them together, testing them as I look. --- >As long as they are, eventually her legs taper down to ankles and feet. I was partially surprised with how the rest of her body was a mishmash of anthro parts, her legs were human-like. Straight down, only one joint rather than being digitigrade like just about every anthro I’ve ever known. She traces a finger along her thigh, skimming through her fur. I roll my eyes, and there is the expected tingle of amusement in my mind. I hadn’t yet seen the back side of her, but I didn’t need to in order to notice that flicking tail. It had thinner layer of fur than the rest of her up until it became naked at the end, making it appear like an even darker patch of purple fur until it ended with a pointed black spade. >”Soon, Pactbearer, I will peel away that armor, and you will overjoyed rather than frightened.” The worst part about this situation, besides the horrifying mess behind us, is that whenever she laughs, I hear it in two places. Hopefully I will get used to this. “I will show you the pleasures you faith would deny you.” She insists, a clawed hand grasping at my back and pushing me into the halls of the keep. >”Before going that far, however, we must find a place that makes us both comfortable.” My annoyance turns into hesitant, even worried, curiosity as she leads me down the halls. “I would have settled for that hall, but your qualms with the location would disrupt my attempts to gather my power.” I don’t doubt that; I could go my whole life without seeing another scene like that. But as we walk through the halls, there are the occasional signs of battle, and I fear the day that I become accustomed to this. --- >Most look like what I’m used to, men slumped over or fallen as if their wounds had simply took away their will to fight. In scenes like this, I see some familiar faces, and I’m glad the path we’re taking is not the same route I had fled down earlier today. I’m not sure I would be able to take seeing the lifeless faces of my brothers in arms and faith while in the company of a denizen of Hell. If the demon can feel my guilt and remorse, she doesn’t show it. >Occasionally we come across fresher corpses, some still not entirely devoid of the intangible warmth of life. These bodies are resemble their allies in the dining hall; shattered upon the nearest surface, torn apart, impaled, but in the end effortlessly slain despite the method. >None of these men wore the colors or standards of those I trained, fought, and lived with. We lost the keep, but thanks to Sha’var’s sudden summoning, the raiders did not live to celebrate or make use of it. It is a bittersweet realization. >I realize that along the path she is leading me through the halls of the keep, the bodies of soldiers were becoming less common. Instead, they were being replaced by cut down common folk, running into the depths of the keep for safety. Before the attack, we had a caravan of traders visiting to keep for business, one of home was of a noble family. Now, with death having swept through, there was no distinction. >”Sha’var, have you come across anyone living that wasn’t a soldier of some sort?” I asked, stepping over one of the keep’s former servants. A buzz filled my head, and I look up to see her scratching under her chin. At least I’ll know when she’s actually thinking about something. --- >”A few, Pactbearer, but only in their last moments. The warriors I found did not seem to be interested in taking prisoners. The bodies of the more defenseless mortals all were struck with killing blows, rather than any intent to injure.” I nod along, trying to make some sense of the attack. Too brash to be soldiers of another country, but too ruthless and organized to be mere bandits, either. “Hoping for survivors is a waste of energy, Pactbearer. Let us focus that energy instead on helping me recover.” >Part of me wishes to point out how selfish that sounds, but I doubt she would care. And she likely already knows how I feel, more aware of how our shared link works than I. For a moment I consider asking for details on this, but I’m immediately distracted by a realization of where she had led me to. “This is the lord’s chambers, Sha’var. He was not a man of the magic arts. What purpose does bringing me here serve?” >She pushed up the door to the no doubt deceased lord’s chambers, barging into his private study with a hand firmly planted onto my back as she dragged me with her. “Simple, Pactbearer. I need you to be comfortable.” The hazy sensation returned, and this time she wasn’t trying to be subtle about it as it made itself known in my mind. >From my experience so far with how our connection worked, whatever her feelings and emotions where, they stayed put in the far back of my mind. An odd sensation, but not a true burden. This haze was different, creeping its way deeper into my thoughts like fog off of the sea shore. Once something had sunk into the haze, it was impossible to clearly think about it. Shaking my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts, I looked right up at the demon, “What’s going on?” I asked, half-confused and half-upset at her purposeful vagueness. She was after something, she had to be. -- >Instead of explaining herself, she simply grinned, and I felt the increasingly familiar sensation of her amusement dance in the creeping haze. She pushed onto my back to urge me forward into the room, but I dug my heels in. In response, she simply picked me up off the ground. It was only now I noticed that the door to the lord’s bed chambers had been open before we walked in. She had been here earlier, in her exploration of the keep. I began to wriggle in her grasp, trying to free myself, “Demon! Beast! Hell’s whore! Release me!” >It didn’t surprise me when she ignored my pleas, more desperate than furious at this point. Instead, she lifted me higher before turning me around, and we were face to face. Her other hand rose up to grasp at my chin, tilting it to the side. I squirmed further, fearful that she was going to snap my neck like a twig. But she wouldn’t, we were connected, right? >Instead, she pulled me closer to her fanged maw. Instinctively I yelped, and she took that chance to lunge forward. I thought she was going to bite me, but instead when she opened her mouth she met her lips to mine at an angle. I hardly had time to process the fact that we were kissing when I suddenly felt her tongue slip past my lips. >I had never paid attention to her tongue when she spoke earlier, it never being of concern to me. Now it was snaking around my own, only to unwind and taste the inside of my cheeks. No amount of scripture or paladin’s teachings on the traits of demons could have prepared me for this. It was smooth, and coated with some sort of substance that was unlike kind of spit I was aware of. It made my tongue and mouth alternate between gentle numbness and a surprisingly pleasant tingle. --- >I wanted to fight this, and part of my mind screamed to. Yet another part didn’t mind, and the part of me I shared with Sha’var certainly wasn’t in the mood to stop. In a two to one vote, I closed my eyes submitted to the kiss. It wasn’t a poor kiss, either; her tongue was not spasming wildly, but seeking out spots she hadn’t yet gotten to. And every now and then, it would return to mine, wrestling and pushing against my tongue for a few seconds before wrapping itself around and tugging at it in playful dominance. >When Sha’var broke the kiss, I was panting and out of breath. I had to recollect myself, and in that moment I put a name to the creeping cloud in my mind. Lust, plain and simple. She radiated it, and it was infectious across our link. I almost fell over when she put me down, unprepared and in another place mentally. Looking around, I noticed that she had carried me to the bed chamber, and the lord’s bed, still pristine despite the chaos in the rest of the keep, sat mere feet behind me. >Looking back at Sha’var, my eyes ran over her body. She had her hands on her hip, and a triumphant look on her face. Black buds pressed out of her furred breasts in defiance, and as I looked down between her legs, I could see a glisten of moisture through the thinning fur line. Every knight is certain they’ll pass the test when confronted, but they usually imagine some great battle. I looked over the demon in front of me as I stepped back and sat at the edge of the bed. >”I’m going to Hell for this.” >Once again, two sources of laughter teased me, and Sha’var grinned as she stepped forward and pushed me flat onto my back, knees still over the side of the bed. Her fingers curled slightly, and I felt her claws hook through my tunic and into the chain mail underneath. “That isn’t such a bad thing, Pactbearer. You might learn to love it.” All I could manage was the nervous grin on my face as she began tearing away at my armor.