“Jack, remember when we were up on the mountain, right after I got bukkake’d by that first slime, and it dropped that crystal into my cleavage, and you said… what was it? Oh, yeah, I remember. ‘Everything is gonna be fine’,” Layla loomed over him where he sat on the seal.

He winced, “Yeah?”

“Fuck you,” she kicked at his greave with her dainty shoes.

“In my defense, El, everything up till yesterday was going surprisingly well,” he gave her a sheepish smile.

“Fuck you, Jackson,” her shoe clanked against his armor again.

“You know, Layla, everything probably would’ve been fine if you hadn’t spelled the clerk at the Hunters’ Guild,” Rory had his hand over his mouth, hiding a smirk.

Erin snerked.

Layla rounded on her, “Oh, I see how it is. I swear, you subjugate ONE fascist bureaucrat, and everyone turns against you!” She was fighting a grin now. “I work and I slave over a hot pile of mana, and what do I get from you people?! Criticism, criticism, nag, nag, nag!”

Erin pulled herself upright, and stalked over to Layla, “Welp, that’s about enough of that, mouth.” She tossed the smaller woman over her shoulder, backpack and all, and began to turn toward the path leading from the shrine down the mountain. “You boys comin’?”

Jack and Rory managed, between fits of laughter, to don their backpacks, while Layla kicked her legs and generally wiggled atop Erin’s shoulders.

“This is outrage! Treason! Kidnapping! Grand theft demon!” she continued between bouts of giggling.

“You know,” Erin started, “everyone we knew in Isenmar is dead now. Belgryn, Igrin, the old man at the leathers shop, all the dwarves at the Cask, the lady at the weird taco stall in the plaza.”

“Shit,” Layla grew still.

“Yeah,” Jack stared at the trail in front of him. “We’re sort of a walking disaster zone. You heard what the priest said. Every time a group of us pops up it turns the world upside down.”

“Why do you reckon that is?” Rory asked. “We’re not even that strong. Been here a week and we’re not even level ten.”

“Well, yeah, Rory, but didn’t Belgryn say that a lot of apprentices don’t make level ten for a few years? Think of how many adventurers start out level one in their class, go out into the Fyrwood, and get straight-up murked by a giant vargr because they didn’t get as lucky as us. Didn’t have blessings, and gear, and status panels. Can you imagine trying to do this shit with some hand-me-down leather armor and your grandpa’s short sword?” Layla slumped against Erin’s shoulder.

“So, I have a quick confession. I’m level ten. In Cook,” Jack stole a glance at the others. “I’ve been sitting on this for a bit, and I’m not sure what to do with it.” He pulled up his panel and spun it to the others.

Congratulations, you have reached Cook Level 11.

Your Mind has increased by 1.

You have pending Options. Choose a Level 10 Talent.

Your Cook level has been reduced to 10 due to loss of life force.

Your Mind has decreased by 1.

You have pending Options. Choose a Level 10 Talent.

You qualify for the following Talents.

[General Talents]

∎ Bottomless: Gain additional Mana from improved Attributes. (Prerequisite: Mind or Will 5.)

∎ Ravenous Mark: Improve your Mark of the Chosen, increasing the amount of experience it harvests from slain creatures. (Prerequisite: Harvest experience from one hundred creatures.)

∎ Skill Talent: Choose a Skill Talent from the Appraise, Blades, Cook, Fortitude, Night, Observe, or Parry skills.

∎ Tireless: Gain additional Stamina from improved Attributes. (Prerequisite: Vitality or Will 5.)

∎ Vigorous: Gain additional Health from improved Attributes. (Prerequisite: Strength or Vitality 5.)

[Cook Talents]

∎ Brewer: Alcoholic brews are stronger and more flavorful. Teas and infusions are more flavorful and have increased effect. Increased chance to succeed on Brewing tasks.

∎ Free Range Cuisine: Completely ignore penalties to meal quality for cooking while camping or bivouacked. Increased flavor and meal quality when using foraged ingredients and wild game.

∎ Short Order: Significantly reduce the time required for most cooking tasks.

∎ Specialist: Specialize in Baking, Boiling, Braising, Broiling, Frying, Grilling, Roasting, Sauteing, Steaming, or Stewing. Dishes made in the Specialized method are more flavorful and nourishing. Increased chance to succeed on Specialized cooking tasks.

“The Observe and Parry talents didn’t unlock until I got to plus five, which happened after I got to Cook ten, so I guess that’s the floor for taking a talent related to a skill,” he chewed on the end of a finger, then scratched the back of his head, staring at the screen intensely. “I just don’t know, ya know?”

“Seems like Talents are kind of a big deal,” Layla craned her torso to see the panel. “Why don’t you have a general for Spirit?”

He scratched his head again, then looked down, “I think because my Guile and Mind are too low.”

“You’re gonna take a cooking Talent, right?” Erin was already salivating.

“I mean, I figure we’re gonna do a lot more murder than fine dining in the near future, or yeah, I’d have already picked the camping one,” he replied and kicked at the dirt under his boots.

“You’re not wrong. I’d pick a combat Talent, given the choice. You’re up front with Erin,” Layla began to pat Erin’s back and wiggle, trying to dislodge herself from the other woman’s grip. “Let me down, hon.”

“But, if I let you down, you’ll talk him into min-maxing his sheet instead of taking pancake magic,” Erin pouted.

“Pancake magic isn’t going to keep us alive to enjoy them, Erin,” Rory chided her. “It’s got to be the experience Talent, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I figured. Anything that lets us level faster, right?” Jack poked at the panel.

“Oh, fine. But you have to take pancake magic at twenty, Jack,” Erin’s lower lip was comically pouting, almost past the tip of her nose.

“Deal,” he smiled at her and poked the panel again to confirm his choice.

-----

The compass seal was pointing them back toward Alabastris, through the imperial army, the Inquisition, and the church of Heleyl, to the shrine buried beneath the capitol. They’d unanimously agreed, “Fuck that.”

As they descended the winding switchback path, they caught glimpses of the Vylornes sea, a vast expanse of glittering blue. The coast itself was obscured by the mountainside, but they made plans to head toward the ocean once they reached the bottom. The descent was long, but relatively uneventful. They spotted several forms of wildlife, including wild dogs and a few big cats, but nothing on the mountainside seemed to be in a hurry to engage them in broad daylight. Jack picked out a few handfuls of tubers, some berries his Skills told him were edible, and several fistfuls of the seemingly ubiquitous forest onions. Layla and Rory bagged something that might have been a goat or deer, except that it was a pale blue and had two nests of three-foot feathery antennae instead of antlers or horns. The panel labeled it a lymantrian buck, and it had been level seven. Once Jack started to work on dressing and skinning the beast, the four were excited to see it yield a rare resource, a ‘Pollinated Hide’.

With their bounty in hand, the four camped at the bottom of the mountain trail, setting up a cook fire and their bedrolls. The pungent sharp flavor of the forest onions complimented the earthy starch of the tubers, but the buck’s fibrous meat was likely only edible because of Jack’s Skills. The tough meat was unanimously panned among the group, and Jack resolved to simmer it over a slow fire and hope the cut would tenderize overnight. They consoled themselves with the berries he’d picked, mashed, and served over the biscuit rations they usually ate plain. Eventually, bellies reasonably full, the four crashed for the night.

-----

They woke shortly after sunrise, to find a group of five men in a half-circle, roughly halfway between the trail and their camp. Jack rose from his bedroll, plucked his blade from underneath it, and unsheathed the longsword, which immediately began to burn with dark mana.

Three of the four men drew back slightly on the crude shortbows they carried, arrows already nocked. The largest of the five, a grimy lug with a scar running from throat to nostrils, brandished a short blade and chuckled, “You think you gonna take all five a’ us? Look at ya. Fresh from the guild and too far from home.”

The others had begun to rouse, Erin strapping on her gauntlets first and piecemealing her armor together as quickly as possible. Rory opened his mouth to work his silver-tongued magic, but he fell silent, mouth still hanging open, as Layla’s blanket slipped off and she stretched out across the bedroll, as naked as the day she was born.

The five brigands, likewise, simply stared, open-mouthed, as Layla rose from the bedroll, plucked the lid from the stew-pot nestled in the spent coals of their campfire, dipped her finger into the sauce, and salaciously licked first her fingertip, then the entire finger. She drew the finger out, agonizingly slowly, lingering as she went, and finally opened her mouth to allow her tongue to slide across the end of her fingernail, alternating eye contact with each of the thugs.

The five men were, for lack of a better term, mesmerized. Rory turned to look at Erin, who shrugged and turned to Jack. Jack, however, was barely home at the moment. His face twisted into a rictus of concentration as he dropped his sword, and slowly, with agonizing effort, tore his gaze away from Layla’s naked body and slammed his eyes shut. Eyes closed, he fished around for a few seconds for his helm, which he quickly donned and slammed the faceplate closed.

“Jack, are you-” Erin started.

“Shhhh, Erin, hon. You’ll interrupt our friends. We’re just gonna go over across the trail and… get to know one another,” Layla cooed. The scent of crisp morning air blew across the camp, and the overpowering scent of honeysuckle rode the wind with it. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you boys?”

Four of the five men, simply nodded or grunted, mouths still hanging open, eyes glazed. Only one of them, the unarmed man standing in the back, who had neither spoken nor drawn a weapon yet, shook himself slightly and began to back away, “My wife. I have to go. This was a mistake. My wife. My son,” he chanted it, like a mantra, eyes repeatedly drawn back to Layla as she stalked toward the others, hips swaying and hair gently blown by a breeze formed only of mana.

“Then go, husband. Your friends won’t be following you,” Layla’s eyes bled from brown to brilliant gold, and her horns slowly materialized, her body slowly reverting to her natural form. The expressions of the other four goons never faltered, but the lone escapee made the crossed sign of Heleyl’s faith and turned to run, sprinting away as fast as his legs would churn.

“I’ll be back in a bit, my loves. Can’t turn down a free meal, with delivery,” Layla’s voice had bled to the echoing honeyed quality of her demonic form. She began to walk toward a rocky outcrop between a pair of trees, and the thugs followed behind her like baby lambs to the slaughter.

Jack turned away from her, moving slowly toward Erin, who moved to him and took his hand, “You ok, Jackson?” He grunted and pressed himself to her. She could hear him breathing, in and out, long steady breaths.

“What the fuck was that?!” Rory whispered.

“I guess Layla’s not the only one who’s close to level ten. Hell, for all we know, she’s passed it. We haven’t exactly been checking each others’ sheets. You think she’s gonna be ok?” Erin held Jack to her as he continued to exhale and inhale, slowly regaining his composure.

“What happened to Jack?” Rory’s voice was low.

“He likes girls, Rory. Neither of us do,” Erin rolled her eyes at him.

“You mean Layla put the sex mojo on him?” Rory looked offended.

“I don’t think she can aim it, really. If she wanted to hit all of them, she had to get him too,” Erin squeezed Jack harder.

“Fucking. Shit. Fuck. Guys… I need a new set of britches,” Jack buried his face in Erin’s shoulder.

“What are… oh… oh shit, really?” Rory’s eyebrows went up, and he looked across the trail to the cleft where Layla and her victims were making a ruckus. “Now I’m a bit jealous of those guys.”

“No, fuck that. For like, ten seconds there, the thought crossed my mind that I’d let Layla fuck me to death if she wanted. That thought just popped into my head,” Jack shook his head against Erin’s shoulder.

“Holy shit,” he whistled.

“Yeah,” Jack pulled Erin closer and focused on the scent of her hair.

Across the trail, the sounds of satisfaction had crescendoed, multiple times. A minute later, the grunting echo of another climax was heard, then another and another. Minutes later, again. The sounds of carnal proceedings continued for another twenty minutes, until they heard a thick, heavy cough and a loud sigh, one of the voices involved going silent. Over the next ten minutes, another voice died out, then another. Finally, the last voice cried out in pleasure that no mortal body was ever meant to experience, and only silence remained.

Shortly after, Layla poked her head out from behind the tree.

“Hey, umm… could one of you bring me my underskirt thing?” she called out.

“You’re worried about us seeing you naked NOW?!” Rory yelled at her.

“Well, we’re not at risk of being shot full of arrows, gutted like fish, and left bleeding out on the side of the road, so yeah,” Layla shot back.

“Fair, I suppose,” he scooped up her chemise and walked it over to her. “You alright?”

“Oh yeah, I’m… satisfied,” she grinned at him.

“Yeah, but, you know, not exactly the type of bloke I’d want to shag?” his voice dropped.

“Oh, I don’t see that as sex, Rory. I see it as murder,” she grinned at him, golden eyes glowing with stolen power and stuck her tongue out between her delicate fangs.

His face was shocked for a moment, then he laughed and walked back to the campfire, shaking his head. Layla was a minute behind him. She sat down on her bedroll, facing the fire, and stole an embarrassed glance at Jack.

“Hey, Jackson… I’m... uh. I’m sorry about that,” her voice issued from the neckline of her dress as she slipped it over her head.

“It’s ok, El. Just, don’t ever aim that at me, ok? No offense, but I don’t ever wanna ride the rollercoaster those guys got,” he stared into the fire.

Layla looked over at Erin, who gave her a heavy dose of prolonged eye contact, “Yeah, Jack, no problem. You’re too skinny for me anyway.”

He snorted, and the laugh set off a chain reaction that spread to Erin, then infected Rory, and finally had Layla laughing until she collapsed onto the bedroll.

“So, seriously, El, how the fuck did you do that?” Erin asked.

“I was almost at level twelve in Succubus before we died, and I’ve spent every option upgrading the Exhausting Appetites skill. Enervating Appetites, which does a bunch more Stamina drain, Mortal Appetites, which drains Health and Stamina, and a neat one called ‘More the Merrier’ that lets me drain anyone touching me that’s turned on enough. I spent my Talent on Bewitching Mirage, which skyrockets the mana cost, but basically casts an upgraded version of the Bewitch spell on everyone who can see me and is even a little attracted to me. Instead of making them more suggestible, it just makes them so turned on they can’t think of anything else,” she ticked off her purchases on her fingers, occasionally checking over her status panel.

“So, you did. You literally fucked them all to death?” Erin’s stared at her.

“Yeah. I shouldn’t have to feed again for a couple weeks at least,” Layla replied.

Erin continued to stare at her. Rory shook his head. Jack studied the campfire.

“What are we gonna do with the… bodies?” Erin finally broke away from watching Layla.

“Probably ought to search em, then bury ‘em?” Rory looked up at the clear sky.

“No. Fuck ‘em. Loot ‘em, and leave ‘em to rot. It’s time to go. I don’t ever wanna see this mountain or this place ever again,” Jack stood abruptly and clapped the dust from his hands.

As the four of them went about the task of breaking camp, Jack couldn’t help but occasionally glance at Layla, watching her as she moved about the camp, laughing and teasing Rory. She only noticed him looking once, but her golden eyes were dark and full as she winked at him and licked her fangs. He looked away and shook himself, then started pulling his armor on.

She whispered, so quiet even she could barely hear, “Everything’s gonna be fine, Jackson.” She stole another glance at him and smiled, then went back to packing her rucksack.