Succubus Quest Ch. 3

Vivian hadn’t really been sure what to expect. Despite her name, Granny was a massive, gnarled, monster, and the scraping sound of her dragging the dead bandit (unconscious? Did it really matter?) had aggressively punctuated Vivian’s fear.

But the tunnel had spilled out into a charmingly decorated cavern. The smooth stone walls were adorned with paintings and tapestries, embroidered cushions and knicknacks. Strategically placed candles suffused the room with warm orange light. It was comfortable. Homey. The air smelled of rich earth, old fabric, and a strange musk that was presumably Granny herself. Half an hour later the two were chatting amiably. After two hours, Vivian found herself relating the struggle of growing up in demonic society, her fears and ambitions, and her hopes for her new life.

The old troll was fussing with her kettle, moving it off the stove just as it began to whistle. She spoke without turning her head. “So to have a big chest, it is a… status symbol? All men of your world are liking the large chest?”

“Partly it’s the status,” Vivian admitted. “That's the impression I always got. It’s pretty rare to see a high-ranking succubus who isn’t curvaceous. And you’re right, eye of the beholder, and it takes all sorts. Human men certainly have preferences. But it’s like…” She frowned, considering how to phrase things.

Granny poured tea into a pair of pink ceramic cups, one noticeably larger than the other. “Perhaps a different subject?”

Vivian shook her head. “No, that’s honestly an interesting point. I think it’s because the magic we use is primal. Lust is a basic human instinct, right? The need to mate, to perpetuate the species. Instinct. So charm magic can override preference, or change what someone prefers. The body knows what it wants, even if the mind disagrees.

“Does that make sense?” Vivian asked. “Preference helps, from what I understand. It’s easier to work with what’s already there. But demons exist to prey on humanity’s desires, so we have ways around that. My instructors always stressed that. ‘A proper succubus uses all five senses to ensnare her prey,’ Ms. Verisath would say. But of those, sight is easiest.” The succubus held out her hands, palms up, then gestured to her own chest. “Hence, boobs.”

“I did not know this of demons,” Granny commented. “That they are so studious.” She set the teacups on their respective saucers, passed one to Vivian, and nestled herself into an overlarge, overstuffed armchair. “You have many interesting things to say, Miss Vivian.”

“Actually, I always - ”

Granny made a shushing gesture. “Perhaps too many. So much talk is poor for digestion. Let us enjoy the tea. We will discuss after.”

Vivian blushed. It wasn’t like her to overshare, but there were few people in her life who had been willing to listen. She brought the cup to her mouth and sipped: warm, slightly bitter, and very aromatic. She took another drink, enjoying the warmth flowing down her throat and filling her stomach. “Wow. This is… really good.”

Granny smiled, nodded, and took another sip of her own.

Hesitant to speak after her scolding, Vivian focused on breathing the rising steam in through her nostrils. It wouldn't do to be rude. Especially to someone who might eat you. She let herself sink further into the chair, nearly drowsing as she took occasional sips from the tea and relaxation to spread from her stomach into her limbs.

The succubus opened up her scroll and mulled over her statistics, wondering idly if her host could see the shimmering parchment; if Granny could, she gave no sign. Vivian didn't have any context to understand what the numbers meant, but couldn't fight the feeling that she was well below average. It was a familiar disappointment.

Huh. Had that always been there? No, it was definitely new. She squinted, re-reading the text:

Sleight of Hand: rank 1

Energy: 2/5

Vivian was confident neither had been there before. The energy made sense - she’d certainly drained a little with the kiss from earlier, although the thin emptiness behind her chest told her it hadn't been enough. She shook her head, trying to quell the feeling. Vivian had been hungry most of her adult life so it wasn't a new feeling, but this felt different somehow. Sharper. But whatever the difference meant, that was something to deal with another time.

The new skill was less clear. Had she picked up some kind of new ability during the fight? She couldn't remember any feats of legerdemain, but maybe it meant something else.

Vivian went to take another drink of tea and found the cup empty. She blinked a few times, trying to rouse herself from her comfortable stupor as she reseated herself in an upright position. When she finally looked up, she realized that Granny was watching her.

The troll was wearing a pair of huge, bronze-rimmed spectacles, leaning forward slightly to examine her guest. Her scraggly eyebrows shifted disconcertingly.

“Miss Vivian,” Granny said, “I know we are new of acquaintance. But will you perhaps permit an old woman some advice?”

“Oh! Yes, please.”

Granny rested her chin on her hands, propping her elbows on the arms of her chair. “It is wonderful that you have such dreams,” she said. The troll’s face drew into a wistful smile. “To have adventures, to be a true succubus. I do not know what this means, but it is good to be true to the self. To explore potential, all of this is good.” She sighed. “I do not wish to be the rain upon your festival. Miss Vivian, do you know what happens when a monster defeats a hero?”

Vivian shrugged. “I can guess, but not really. I just got here after all.”

Granny nodded. “A hero is not easy to die. The gods do not want them to leave this world, and so they survive in most unlikely ways.” She adjusted her spectacles, frowning. “Even being eaten, I have known them to come back. And from your story, you are also an eater of humans, yes?”

“Uh… It’s not exactly…” Vivian furrowed her brow. “Kind of? I’ve never actually killed anybody, you know. Not for lack of trying, it’s a rite of passage among succubi. But in the other world, I was so weak that it never worked out that way. Much to mother’s displeasure.”

“How you choose to eat, it is not of my business,” Granny said firmly. “Some trolls do not like to eat humans. But all must eat, yes? I warn you so that you know: heroes come back. And they remember. Not always, but often.”

“Thank you,” Vivian said. “That’s important to know.”

“Important, but not the big point. Miss Vivian, monsters are not so cared for by the gods. When we die, we are gone. Perhaps to be reborn - this I do not know.” Granny gestured to a mass of pale scar tissue on her left arm,. “My kind can only die to fire, and I have been thought dead before. But always, there is a way to make sure we are gone for good.”

“Well that’s certainly…” Vivian flexed her hands, familiar anxiety creeping into her mind. “I’m not a regular monster though, right? I talked to some kind of goddess when I first came here. Doesn’t that mean something?”

“You do seem to be a special girl, Miss Vivian. But of such things, I know little.”

“So what are you saying, then? That I have to be scared all the time? That I can’t go around people?” Vivian’s eyes darted from side to side. “Because I’m telling you, I can’t go back to that. I won’t.”

The troll made a shushing noise. She leaned forward, resting a massive hand gently on Vivian’s shoulder. “I do not mean to frighten, only to caution. Fear is healthy, but this is not my point.”

“So… what is your point, then?”

“When a hero goes on his quest, he will choose a challenge that he can overcome, yes?” Granny moved her finger under Vivian’s chin, tilting her head up. “They will grow stronger, bit by bit. The gods, they expect this for us as well. A troll eats, she becomes stronger, and a hero comes to fight. A great adventure.”

Vivian wiped at the corner of her eye, trying to force a smile that wouldn’t quite come. “So?”

“I am old,” Granny said. “I have seen much. I have played by the gods’ rules, and to them I say ptui!” She spat on the ground. “I have buried many sons, Miss Vivian, but have had no daughters. We are rare, us women, among our kind. I would not see the same fate for you. So if fate is unkind, then we will cheat it! This is my wish for you: to grow strong, to be cunning, and to play your own game.”

The smile came at last, weak but heartfelt. Vivian still didn’t know what Granny was saying, but she was starting to understand. “Okay,” she sniffed. “Where does that leave us now?”

Granny stood, walked over to a cupboard, and began to rummage. “I cannot give you the large chest,” she said over the clinking of glass, “But troll magic is that of the body. There is an old family recipe - a potion - that will perhaps help.” She withdrew an old tome and began leafing through the yellowed pages. “Lizard’s sting, yes. Good. And widow venom, this I have as well. Hmm.” She turned, setting the book down. Granny picked up a pen, dipped it in ink, and scratched out two words on a piece of parchment before handing it to Vivian.

“These two things I am missing,” she said. “Blisterwort and black salts.”

Vivian took the list, read it carefully, then folded the paper twice and tucked it into her top. “So this is kind of my first quest,” she said. “Right?”

“You should be careful with such words,” Granny scolded. “To have a quest is binding, and sometimes they can sneak up quiet-like. But yes.” She gestured to the mouth of the cave. “There is a lady in town who makes the potions for young heroes who come to visit. In her shop, you will find these things.” The troll held up a finger in warning. “I have seen no heroes of late, but always there are more coming. Be careful, Miss Vivian. Be smart. In and out, quick as fire bug. Yes?”

The succubus nodded. She was nervous. Excited. It wasn’t exactly what Vivian had had in mind for her first quest, but she was thrilled nonetheless. “I’ll go when it’s dark. But, uh…” Vivian gestured to her outfit. “This getup is kind of conspicuous. And my horns and tail stick out.”

“Ah,” Granny said. She sifted through a basked in the corner before presenting Vivian with a pair of pants, a tattered brown tunic, and a hooded black cloak. “This will be good, yes?”

“Any boots?” Vivian asked hopefully, eyeing her heels.

Granny shook her head.

“It’ll have to do. Thank you.” Vivian changed quickly, folding up her former raiment and leaving it in a neat pile on a nearby shelf. The clothes were musty, but relatively clean. It occurred briefly to Vivian that these were probably the remnants of Granny’s previous meal, but she brushed the thought aside and focused on the task at hand. She certainly wasn’t going to judge the troll’s dietary habits.

A few hours later the sun had begun to set, painting the horizon in pink-orange light. After double-checking her directions with Granny and making sure her paper was secure, Vivian walked out of the cave, through the orchard, and set out down the road toward town.