A full night of sexual debauchery had thoroughly exhausted him. He was dehydrated and sore and feeling like he had been ravaged by an entire fraternity — its beefcake occupants and even the frat house itself. When his energy had flagged, Zebryl insisted they keep going and had courteously let Robin feedResolve
? ? ? ? ?
Up and out of bed by mid morning, Robin let the devil continue to snore softly under the sheets. He smiled thinking Zebryl managed to look almost wholesome in the clear morning light despite the tranquility-bruising wallpaper. He tiptoed out of the room with a towel wrapped around his waist on a hunt for coffee.
Betty was not awake yet, but he did find his pants — now shorts — lying on the rocking chair. The cerulean blue fabric had been cleanly cut, sewn up and the bottom hem trimmed with the same white fluff as the jacket and hat. He put the shorts on and found they came to a comfortable mid-thigh length. Despite still being shirtless, he definitely felt less like a cabana boy and more like an adult.
He made a pot of coffee and took the first steaming cup, sadly lacking in aroma, out onto the patio. The morning sunshine brought the day’s temperature to a pleasant 70 degrees according to the thermometer by the door. Surveying the backyard, which he had spent plenty of time tidying, he was distressed to find a loose garbage strewn in the flower bed along one of the side fences. Snack-sized chip bags, candy wrappers, a ketchup-stained cardboard hot dog tray and a handful of used Kleenex lay scattered between colorful tulips, daisies and marigolds. Actually he had no idea what kinds of flowers they were, but in his mind he catalogued them as if he were a seasoned gardener. It was important to keep the imagination working in case her ever had to play an actual botanist or something.
There was no other trash in the rest of the yard, so clearly it had not been the wind that delivered the detritus. It’s placement seemed purposeful. Robin’s eyes narrowed as he examined the roofline and close-curtained windows of the house on the other side of that fence. If the house had been colored and not drab shades of oatmeal, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the window treatments were Southern Confederate flags. The littered flower bed was obviously intentional.
Putting his mug down on the arm rest of a lounge chair, Robin shuffled over to the fence grabbing a pail from the gardening supplies on his way. He gingerly picked up all the trash and properly disposed of it in the city-provided bin on the side of Betty’s now blue house.
His coffee had cooled by the time he got back to it. Just as he was about to step indoors, multiple screams of different timbres issued from the house with the teenage daughter behind the back fence.
“Mother fucking, duck stunting hell! I am really getting sick of B-movie shrieks peeling the paint every hour around here.” .
If he were a decade or so younger, he might have considered vaulting over the back fence, but these days the gentlest of sneezes could be the triggering event for week-long back pain. The screams redoubled and he heard at least one other screen door open in a nearby house. The whole neighborhood was about to be drawn into the drama. Robin feared the wereMonsters had found him and were shredding the neighbors into breakfast burritos.
Before he was forced to commit to a response, physical or otherwise, the screen door on the back-neighbor’s house tore open with the sound of sharp claws. Striding out onto the deck came Yarya, Zebryl’s succubus sister. Clad in clingy dark red leathers, a thin tendril of red Fear
The devil noticed Robin staring at her. Her smoking red eyes narrowed as she took in the colorful house and Robin’s own non-khaki complexion. She pointed dangerously at him. “You!”
Her wings flapped twice powerfully launching her into the air. She soared over both yards to land next to Robin with predatory grace. Her clawed hand snapped out clamping around his throat eliciting a half-cough from his clenched windpipe. “Are you the one who’s set up Mystic
Robin was unable to answer as air couldn’t reach his lungs. He futilely sought to pull her hand off his neck but she held firm, devilish strength more than his human frame could overcome. He was glad Zebryl had exhibited more tenderness than domination during their sex-fest last night, for if all devils were this strong he could have been badly broken just getting his rocks off.
Betty’s screen door slid open. Zebryl sauntered casually out onto the patio wearing not a stitch of clothing. “Oh, do put the boy down, dear sister. I’m afraid I may have left him a tad over-tenderized. Last night proved… entertaining.”
Robin gulped air with a ragged gasp as Yarya let go. A ridiculous observation to make in that moment, but he noted the backs of her hands were not spiked like Zebryl’s.
“Pish posh, little brother. I was only going to nibble a bit off him. The neighbors were rather bland.”
“Did you kill them?” Robin croaked.
The succubus turned with a distasteful curl of her upper lip. “No. I think most of them are still alive. I left the hormonal teenage one whimpering and its parents still quivered.”
“Well, nevertheless,’ Zebryl stated as he took a seat on one of the recliners, careful not to bend a wing as he lay back with hands behind his head, “I’m glad you found us. I’ve been looking for you for two days.”
Seeming to have dismissed Robin’s presence, Yarya stripped her leather vest off and tossed it onto the lawn. “This sun isn’t as hot as it is back home, but it’ll have to do for a tepid bath.” Her tits were impressive, both in shape and volume, but Robin was glad she kept her pants on. He certainly did not need a glimpse at the devil’s coot-coot cafe. He kept his eyes focused on Zebryl’s spiked penis as a palette-cleanser for his imagination.
“Do be a good lad and fetch us a cocktail,” Yarya ordered with a flip of one clawed hand.
“I’m not your bar-bitch, bitch,” Robin snapped, angry at being so caustically treated by the new arrival.
Zebryl reached out to place one soothing hand on his sister’s arm. “Dear sister, you a guest here, at least for the moment. Please treat Robin as —“
“Your cock-dip-hole?” She took a moment to inspect Robin more thoroughly. “I’m surprised he's still walking if you had him for the entire night. I see you left your mark on his back.”
“That was from the bear that attacked your club,” Robin stated hotly. “Zebryl didn’t hurt me, unlike others I could point to.”
Yarya . “Oh please, human. I didn’t even bruise you. I’m a professional.”
Robin wisely kept his mouth shut. For once.
Finishing her appraisal of him, Yarya leaned back to fully relax upon her recliner. “Little human, you do look like you could use a snack. I presume you’ve dined upon this house’s residents already. Maybe you should visit the neighbors, though perhaps the ones to either side will be less… used.”
“Why, I said the very same thing, dear sister,” Zebryl declared with a finger snap. “It seems my friend Robin here is a bit squeamish when it comes to feeding upon the plainFolk. He’s new to the world and is still trying to find his footing.”
Closing her eyes and soaking in the warm sun, Yayra again. “It’s what they’re put here for, boy. They are nameless chattel that do little else than provide sustenance for Players
Hoping the sister might be more forthcoming with actual information, Robin decided to pose a couple questions. “Who put the people here and what's our purpose as Players
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Yarya opened her eyes and turned her gaze once more toward him. He thought he saw something akin to pity in her demeanor. “I forget you Blues come from the same world the foodFolk were patterned after. I have dealt with Mystics
Robin felt insulted, though her words were not inaccurate. “So where come from is full of wisdom and universal understanding?” He knew he sounded snarky, perhaps even heated, but he hoped Zebryl would keep the peace. The incubus was, in fact, looking rather amused by the debate but appeared uninterested in contributing.
Yarya sat up, her wings partially unfolding.
Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, but the winged motion had threat simmering beneath it. Devil’s body language and cultural mannerisms were perfectly alien to him, but he stood his ground remembering not to cross his arms and look defensive. “If you’re from Hell, I would’ve thought you’d be perfectly familiar with human knowledge, given that you’re the torturers of our wicked dead.”
The succubus looked confused and glanced to her sibling. “I know this world magically translates all languages for us, but I didn’t understand anything of what he just said.”
Zebryl ran his forked tongue across pointed teeth before answering. “I have bedded more than one Mystic
“Just the evil ones who’ve done terrible things,” Robin clarified, though he held no such belief himself.
“Oh, riiight,” Yayra drawled. “Fascinating how they get some of the details correct but cling to the notion the cosmos is centered around them. Humans are the significant creatures in all the universe but have a disproportionate sense of their own import. Silly things. Are we planning to let this once linger?”
Frustratingly not coming to his immediate defense, but instead stroking himself for a few moments, Zebryl said, “Actually, I was thinking we might set up here.”
Yarya stood up in a flash crossing her arms in irritation. “What! Here? This rinky little abode is far from suitable as a Home Base
Zebryl snorted. “You still want to build a castle, don’t you?”
Yarya pursed her lips and reversed the crossing of her arms making her boobs jiggle. “Maybe.”
Zebryl continued from his prone position with closed eyes and a perfectly relaxed demeanor. “You recall how much effort it took to set up the , don’t you?”
“Mmm, hmm.”
Zebryl slit one eye open to look at his sister. “No, you do not, dear sister. I did most of the work, cast most of the protections and hired all the staff.”
“We Recruited
“Do not worry, Yarya, the Zeb’Ya Cabal shall find its footing soon enough.”
“It’s the Yar’Bryl Cabal, brother,” Yarya corrected. “We settled on the name quite some time ago.”
A gravelly and cantankerous voice shouted from over the side fence. “It’s fucking time to fucking shut the fuck up, you bleating hillbillys! I’m calling the cops if you don’t cover the fuck up. There’s kids here ‘bouts.”
Robin turned to see the weathered face of a middle-aged man glaring over the fence, both hands clenched tightly to the top. Even with bland mushroom coloring, he could tell the gnarly neighbor was one of those people who had spent so much time in the sun they aged like a leathery prune.
“Decent folk live in this neighborhood and you should be ashamed,” the man scratchily continued. His diatribe sounded like it was just beginning to build. “It’s bad enough that
“Hey! Betty is a wonderful, kind and decent person, you withered piece of poppy-caca,” Robin snapped. “You should mind your own business.”
“It’s my business if lewd nakedness is being pranced about,” the man retorted. “I had to listen to your bedroom caterwauling all night. Now you bring it out in the open? My wife is calling the police right now.”
Yarya’s knees bent, her wings snapped open in preparation to launch. Robin bravely stepped in front of her holding his arm out for her to stop. “I’ll take care of this,” he whispered.
Yarya snarled with literal fire in her eyes, tiny flames and wisps of smoke rising off her lashes. She glared at the sad thing peeking over the fence. “Go feed
“Fine.” Robin strode to the fence with feigned confidence. He had no idea if he could feedwould feedJust treat this like walking out on stage on opening night. You feel like everything is gonna to go to shit, but you trust the cast and the crew, you trust in the results of all that rehearsal, you trust in your ability to infuse each scene with emotion. You just take the plunge and let the script roll through your soul.
The only thing wrong with that mindset is there was no script here. The cast was two devils wickedly willing to feast upon humanity, a bland human willing to treat his peers like garbage and a second-rate actor put on the spot with no actual rehearsal, with barely any knowledge, and a deep desire not to hurt anyone. If he was going to let Yarya be the director and send him to his mark, to make him do something terrible, he’d just have to wait until the moment actually struck and he was forced do what she demanded — or not.
He mentally selected two of his last seven AttributeReadyd12 Presenced8 BohdiEssenceAttributeFatiguedCharm
Robin stepped up onto the flower planter making use of his 6-foot-3 height to dominate the situation by looming over the top of the fence. A soft blue light emanated from his skin as the spell went into effect and dice rolled off the both of them in a contested roll:
ROBIN’s RESULTSQUALITY = 27
PRE d12 = 5BOH d8 = 8
Charm d10 = 4
Charm d8 = 5
Charm d8 = 5
NEIGHBOR’s RESULTS: QUALITY = 17
WLP d12 = 8
Stubbornness d8 = 4Stubbornness d8 = 3Stubbornness d8 = 2
The cranky man did not seem immediately affected. “Go put a shirt on you dirty, fucking queer and get your friends out of sight,” the neighbor spat. It must be their highest dice rolls being tied— Robin’s BohdiWillpowerquality
The dice evaporated as Robin took a centering breath to keep from blowing his stack. “I don’t care what sort of bigotry you have festering under that parched, sun-baked skin, but you need to find better hobbies than listening in on your neighbors at all hours of the night, throwing garbage over the fence and yelling for kids to get off your lawn. Betty is a thousand times the human you are and deserves to be treated with decorum and respect. I want you to muster up a plate-full of civility, drown every single harmful thought you’ve had towards her, the gays, the downtrodden and the unfortunate and shit them out your puckered asshole. Then, take your raisin-like little testicles, tell your wife you’re sorry for having never pleased her — sexually, I mean — and never speak, act or think ill of Betty and her guests ever again. Do you understand me?” By the end, Robin had risen up on his toes to tower head and shoulders over the top of the fence.
The CharmResolve
A harridan-like shriek came from his patio as a bath-robed woman in hot curlers stomped out of their house. “What have you done to him, you pervert?” All she needed was a rolling pin in one upraised hand to complete the cliche. “Get off our fence and go back to whatever fuck-filled gutter you came from!”
These two fuck wits were clearly perfect for each other. Feeling like he had blown his stack on the man after all, Robin didn’t want to shout down the wife as well. He simply selected his last two social Attributed10Presenced8 BohdiCharm
ROBIN’s RESULTS:QUALITY = 25PRE d10 = 7BOH d8 = 8
Charm d10 = 5
Charm d8 = 3
Charm d8 = 2
NEIGHBOR WIFE’s RESULTS:QUALITY = 4
WLP d4 = 4
The woman must have been so worked up — or lacked any latent, relevant skill — as all she was able to defend with was a measly four-sided die of Willpowerpower to actually make a difference, maybe even change someone’s mind about their embedded intolerances, he found he was more than willing to make use of it. Life would be better if everyone could just be nice to each other.
The wife stumbled to a halt right before she reached her husband as the blue charm magic engulfed her. She toppled onto the lawn next to him with no sound, not even a whimper. Green Resolve
The flowers next to Robin’s feet rustled as Yarya stepped onto the planter to look over the fence at the two wilted, nameless humans. “Well, well, well. Perhaps you do have some uses after all.” She called back over her shoulder, “Brother, let’s keep him. Might as well tuck ourselves in here for the time being and see what we can make of this place. Staying off the main streets might serve us wisely.”
“Indubitably, dear sister,” Zebryl replied laconically.
Feeling more than a little hollow himself, Robin slowly turned to head back indoors as the fence, Betty’s house and his Santa shorts gradually transitioned to Infernal red.