Author Topic: Grampa's little Girl  (Read 1358 times)

LawfulJoe

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Grampa's little Girl
« on: May 23, 2008, 02:33:37 PM »
"Get her off of me! Help! MOM!!" came the pained cries of Kayleb, a boy of 7 winters with golden blonde hair currently being torn from it's root by his sister of 4 winters, Sybel. She tugged and laughed at his screams, the fine hair falling from her fingers like silken thread.
"Kayleb's got pretty hair momma, see?!" the spritely little girl said, her own hair a sandy blonde, just like her mother's, Jancia, who was rushing from the cottage to see what all the ruckus was about.
"Sybel! Leave your brothers alone," The shapely middle aged woman scolded, "yesterday you poked John in the eye with a stick, and the healer says, he might lose it! Now go to your room!"
"But Momma..." Her words were slapped from he face by her mom. Hot tears formed in her eyes, which brought with it a gaze that made her mother take pause.
"To your room!"

Her room was small, but as the only girl with two brothers, she got her own while they share bunk beds in the room next door. She was mad to be sent here again, the heads of her dolls lay torn and ragged on the floor. Sybel always had a temper, and as she got older it seemed to be worse. Kayleb and John always suffered the rages, and while Kayleb was 3 years her elder, John was 6 and he too knew to fear his sisters wrath.

They call it the terrible twos, but for Sybel, 2 was the age the anger seemed to start. Too small to have the strength to be a threat, but she was smart, and malicious for her age. Once Kayleb would not share his sweet roll he bought at the local spring festival. She hit him and he laugh. This served to ingnite the rage in her. He still  has burn scars on his legs from when she set his bed on fire. Mother always lit a candle at night to keep the dark at bay. After that, she learned not too. Sybel laughed at him while he screamed.

When she was 3, John got a kitten from the neighbor farm. She wanted one too, but her mother said one cat was enough. She glared her viscious glare, and waited for 2 months for school to start. One day while John was at the school house, Padomie, the kitten disappeared. The family looked all around the cottage and called outside for the beloved pet. Only Sybel stayed inside and played with her dolls. They gave up the search at nightfall and the family dinner was somber. John said they didn't find anything, and Derek, Father to the boys and Sybel, replied "Well son, this is tough country on small pets. Might have got out, wold dogs, or a crag cat", he let the words hang in the air, hoping to let the lesson sink in about the dangers of the outskirts of the city, but the bell like little voice broke the silence with the hopeful toned question, "So I can get a cat now?"
The Family just looked at her in amazement, but John knew, his sister had done something terrible to Padomie. He only glared at her and left the table. All she could do in response to the shocked looks was ask, "What?"

As the seasons passed, Sybel turned from child to young girl to a teen. Her violent rages were more controlled and her spiteful and often painful pranks were done with much more grace and subtlety. Her brothers still feared her, John with his eye patch reminder of the day long ago when she jabbed it with a stick, always hated her, and Kayleb had many scars and broken fingers from "Accidently" getting his fingers slammed in the door. Her mother and father tried scolding, grounding and even the switch to the backside for the worse of the incidents. Nothing seemed to curb the girls manner.

The years had also taken the cherib like face of innocence, and shaped it into a face of beauty with the promise of a shapely and desireable body to got with it. The boys from school chased after her with youthful hopes of making her a woman and in turn gaining their won manhood badge in the process. One boy let his hand wander where his eyes were. Jake Miller nearly died from a crushed wind pipe, but the healers were there in time.
When asked what happened, Sybel replied, "Boys will be boys, but I am not to be touched without permission. Too bad that he will never speak again."
what puzzled the healers were the blistered burns where her fingers had gripped his throat.

Her 16th winter came, and with, a great illness. Her mother worried night and day for 2 weeks as her daughter suffered a tremendously high fever and nightmare ridden sleep. Lumps grew on her back that the healers could not explain. They tried salves, and crude surgery to remove them, but each day they grew more and longer. The bone of her forehead also sprouted small hard bumps and blood oozed from her mouth. It was a disease they had never seen, a horrible malaise. It was beyond natural efforts, and they sent out a messagenger to bring a cleric from Thay, preferable of a god who understood demonology and the rites of excorcism.

The day the messenger left, that night the fever broke. The healers ushered the family out of the house, for the sheets that clung to her body, soaked with sweat, began to darken and smolder. They brought buckets of water in preparation for a potential fire, but entered the room to find a surprise. Sybel stood, awake and wrapped in her sheets like a make shift robe. Her head was down the once blonde locks now were raven black and hung down heavy with sweat. Her eyes were closed as she gained her balance and barrings. But the most shocking change was the appendages that shot out from her back. When the healers entered, their gasps brought long limbs to life, unfurling Large bat like wings. She heard their prayers and smelled their fear, a pleasant aroma to her nose. It excited her in ways she never new possilbe and a grin parted her lips. Again more gasps, heightened fear and te sound of steel clearing a sheath. It was a quick sound so it was not a large blade, maybe a knife or dagger, but it was the calling card of danger to her, and she opened her eyes to face the threat.

A older man and young girl, probably his apprentice or daughter, stood before her in plain green robes. The man held a dagger, about a foot in length and sweat rolled down his balding scalp. She stepped forward making the healers take a step back. The dagger came forward in a threatening manner, and all Sybel could say was, "YOU DARE!" in a voice that was deep and sensuous, but filled with the promise of and death. She held her palms out, as if showing she was unarmed, perhaps it appeared like a plea, but her nails were black and glossy like onyx, and the man could only look at them unsure. She added the look of helplessness to the motion and she could see the fear turn to compassion, and pity, It was just what she wanted. Her sorrowful look switched to savage glee in a flash. A fan of deadly fire lept from her hands and showered the two healers in painful  burning death. Their screams brought Derek, Kayleb and John running, her mother could only cry as smoke poured from her duaghter window.
"By the Gods!" Yelled her father as he came upon the scene.
"Sybel?" questioned Kayleb
"I knew it!" shouted John as he picked up the healers dagger and moved forward to kill his demon spawn of a sister .

There were sounds of a fight, yells of pain, savage unearthly roars, bright flashes of magic and then silence. Jancia looked on bellow in horror and fear of what might of happend. Moments went by before she summoned all her bravery and entered the home.
"Come to me mother" beckoned the soft senuous voice from Sybel's room. "Come join the family."

From the earth arose a thick fog that shouded the small cottage. Neighbors looked through shuttered windows at the odd phenomenon, but did not dare to got outside.

Several days later the Cleric arrived. The house was empty, but he found the heads of Derek, John, and Kayleb torn from their bodies and thrown about the floor. Jancia sat in the corner of the room, her eyes wide in terror with the words "Mother" carved into her forehead with a cartoon like smiling heart next to it. The priest could not snap the woman from her shock, and had his assistants take her with them back to Thay. There was no sign of Sybel, only the wreckage ofher passing.


From the abyss chuckled a proud Incubus who looked upon the carnage with delight through a smooth scrying pool.
"That's my girl" he said to the succubus that had shared his chambers for the past three nights of carnal debotchery, "Well look at that Cryssia, I'm a Grampa!"
His laughter rung out across the desolate plane.
« Last Edit: May 24, 2008, 06:06:18 PM by LawfulJoe »

LawfulJoe

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Re: Grampa's little Girl
« Reply #1 on: July 18, 2008, 05:49:33 PM »

The old Inn was said to be haunted with ghosts and spirits of the past. Its dark windows looked out across the Old Slavich Road to Barovia and the roof was missing many shingles, but all in all, the structure was sound. the stories were mostly the tales told around the fire of a spectral cry of a baby in the night, or the sighting of demons dancing in the court yard. Such were the way with local tales, but sometimes, tales come from truth.

The night had come, and the old Slavich Road was haunted itself by the undead. It was not safe for any being, good or evil to travel the road, for the undead do not judge the living, only hate them all equally. Sybel peered out the dark window and longed to go outside and play in the rain, to feel the cool water on her leathery wings and body. Sometimes Demons did dance in the courtyard. Without fear, she ran down the stairs and out the door, not even noticing the sleeping red haired man by the fireplace. It was a few spins before she felt the unnatural cold in the air. Her breath came in clouds and it made her alert to the presence. It was the shrieking mink that drew her closer to the over turned wagon that lay next to the Inns overgrown entry road. Hiding behind the worm eaten wooded cart, Sybel peered into the night and down to the road. The undead did hate the living, all creatures, and the proof was in the scene of a spectral horror chasing mink about the road and surrounding fields, draining the life out of them one by one. She found it amusing, but stifled the giggle, for she knew fear, and it took shape in those creatures, creatures that would drain her as easily as the mink. The rain dancing had been forgotten for a safer choice. Back to the old inn she went, coming in the door and then she notice Zeke, one her half demon friends. She had been found by them, and they were like a family, and not. They took her in when she was lost in this strange world.

She approached him quietly, and saw him twitch in his sleep, curled up in a ball, his red leathery tail moved agitatedly. A dream perhaps or a nightmare. With a mental summons she called to her most trusted ally from across the planes. Z'Tarl, her loyal hell hound, heard the call and in a blink came to her side. The faint scent of smoke and brimstone let her know that he had arrived.

"There you are" she whispered sweetly and hugged the massive beast. Z'Tarl responded to her touch with an uncharacteristic affection, not usually seen in the hateful demon dogs. There was a special bond between the two, one that was beyond the surface and linking the two in soul. When Sybel had gone into the transformation coma, Z'Tarl guided her soul through the abyss to where she learned of what she was. The moment her Succubus blood awakened, the hellhound knew his duty, he would be her guardian and companion, she was his master, and he her guide.
"Zeke is cold... can you bring me a blanket from the bed upstairs?" There was no questioning the command, for it was a pleasure to serve his mistress as she rewarded him often with deer hearts. With his snout, the demon dog pushed open the door and ascended the stairs. A few moments and a loud crash of the door to the bed room splintering, Z'Tarl returned, quilt in mouth, which was starting to smolder.
"Good Z'Tarl, thank you so much", she said softly as she pet his sleek fur.

The touch of the old dusty quilt caused Zeke to stir then awaken with a yell. He looked around wide eyed, and afraid then settled on Sybel.
“Oh, it’s you.” He said with a sigh of relief.
“Somebody was dreaming? It was either very good or very bad.” She replied playfully. Zeke shook his head and curled back up, staring into the fire, “Bad dreams, bad memories”
“Aw, poor dear, Tell me about them” she inquired, her bottom lip expended in a innocent looking pout.
The red hair tiefling could only shudder as he relived the horror he has suffered at the hands of the Vallaki guard.
“They… Killed me, and burned my body. The guards, they did it because they hate me” His eyes were wide as he told his tale, “I did nothing wrong and they just attacked and it hurt so bad, oh the pain.”
Sybel’s look of sympathy turned quickly to anger. A low feral cougar like growl came from her throat, “Sounds like we need to hunt some guard, we can kill them, and eat their hearts! Yes! Yes! That would be fun!!” She said as her anger turn to child like excitement. She bounced gently, nearly falling out of her loose fitting and revealing dress.
“No, I’m not like that, I don’t want to be like that.” Zeke replied, “I’m not a bad person”
She stroked his hair soothingly and whispered softly to the disturbed half demon, “No you are not bad, you did not kill them. THEY are the bad people, and they should be punished for their crimes, for their murder of you.” Even though her tone was soft, sensual and soothing, Sybel’s golden crimson flecked eyes were hard and full of hate. “It is what good people do to bad people, we punish them.”
Zeke just curled up again under the quilt, “I’m not going anywhere, I… I just want to sleep”
She sat and watched him for awhile till he returned to his fitful slumber. Z’Tarl curled up next to his master, and she idly scratched behind his ear with her iron hard onyx black nails. After his breathing became steady, she stood up and stretched her body to full height, and her wings to full extension. Looking down at the sleeping Zeke, a cruel grin curled on to her lips.
“Maybe I will kill a few for you, and bring their hearts back for you to eat.” She smiled her sharp toothed grin and head for the door, her cloak in hand, “Yes, then you will take their strength as they took yours!”
« Last Edit: July 18, 2008, 05:51:10 PM by LawfulJoe »

LawfulJoe

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Re: Grampa's little Girl
« Reply #2 on: October 17, 2008, 03:32:24 PM »
Cold rain pours down from the heavens soaking the hunchbacked woman's robes to the skin. She shivers, and looks longingly at the warm glow coming from the Inn. People laughing and drinking like normal folk do, but Sybel was not normal. Somewhere in her bloodline an Incubus had seduced one of her family. The demonic seed had passed her mother, but took root in unborn child that would become Sybel. She looked as other children till her 16th winter when with puberty blossomed her womanhood and also the seed of evil.

She flexed her wings a bit against the leather tie she used to keep them back. How she ached to spread them and run through the rain. She desire to go into the Inn and indulge her infernal lust that contrasted to her innocence of experience. Only 18 winters, she had not know the touch of intimacy. Only once did a boy try, and it resulted in his windpipe crushed. The memory brought to her lips a savage sharp toothed grin.

Jake Miller's face was one of confidence till his hands wandered too far. The thrill of sinking her finger into his adams apple and squeezing till his violent struggle slowed to a pathetic squirm brought to her lips a sinister grin. She let him live, but he would never speak again. She giggled uncontrollably and quickly stiffled it with a cupped hand. She had liked him touching her, but she truly gained pleasure with his suffering. The fear in his eyes was more exciting and satisfying than anything she had ever known. After the encounter with Jake, the other boys in her village avoided her. Jake left the village, shamed by the reputation of a rapist, and traumatized by the attack. Only a month later did the metamorphosis come to her in the form of a fever and coma. As hard as she tried, she could only remember flashes of fire and faces of fiends from the 2 week ordeal, but she knew she was not the teenaged girl she was the moment she opened her eyes. Emotions rolled through her in waves. Savage sexual desire and violent urges to inflict torturous pain. It was within minutes of her waking that she was able to indulge those cravings.

A chill drop rolled down her back, sending a shiver through her body, shaking her from her memories. The faces of her first victims faded as had her world when the mists came calling. The past was just that. Gone, only a memory. Here in this savage world of many horrors, she sought the company of like souls. The nights were spent in wandering, seeking other infernal bloods. She was still weak and vulnerable alone in the world. Her demonic powers still young and limited by her human blood.

She had met others like her, but they kept themselves hidden from the humans that shunned and fear their kind. Caves, abandoned buildings and other such avoided areas became her inns. Only there, alone in the undesirable places, could she spread her wings and dance, embracing her trueself. Sybel missed people, she desired their company and their touch. Of all the infernal beings, her blood stemmed from one of the social beast of the Abyss. She was Succubus, and with it came a need to be social.

Dare she go into the inn? She saw how the scared and burly bouncer watched her with wary eyes. His massive maul promising a crushing and painful death. She looked much like a tall elf, as long as she player the roll of hunchback. All it would take is someone to notice her smile. The cruel looking razor sharp teeth would be a dead give away to her sinister nature.

With a resigned sigh, she turned away and walked back into the night, leaning heavily on her gnarled staff that she used to help give the illusion of one inflicted. She needed no such aid, but if people saw her as nonthreatening, the would not be suspicious. Pity was her favorite weapon. You tend to underestimate those you pity, and if someone sought to harm her, perhaps that pity would buy her the moments she needed to spray forth the infernal fires that she knew she could call upon. She would laugh as the look of pity would be forever their death mask.

A soft giggle came from the hunchbacked woman as she hobbled into the darkness and the rain.
« Last Edit: October 17, 2008, 03:36:38 PM by LawfulJoe »

LawfulJoe

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Re: Grampa's little Girl
« Reply #3 on: June 10, 2009, 12:40:57 PM »
 :bump: