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A Virtual Temptress Ch. 13 (part 1)
🕑 Added 2021-04-05 18:10:36 +0000 UTCThe last rays of the setting sun reflected the stained glass from a nearby cathedral, scattering its kaleidoscopic light across the street. Mottled red clouds drifted overhead, promising clear skies at least for tonight. The last raven squawked its farewell to the day’s end, settling itself in for the night as passersby thinned to the occasional fleeting traveler.
Half-hidden behind a hedge as he eyed the Templar’s barracks, Dan heard none of this. He was busy arguing with a demon.
“I simply do not understand you, Daniel,” Lexi continued, her precise tone tinged with irritation. “I have done my utmost to understand the people of your world, and upon discovering a cultural tradition to which I relate, you dismiss my interest out of hand.” The succubus was clad in a heavy brown cloak from the day before, hood pulled up over her head to hide her features.
“Listen, it’s not…” Dan rubbed his eyes. “I’m glad you like Halloween. But I think you’ve misunderstood what it’s about. That’s all I’m saying.”
Lexi’s brows furrowed, her face half hidden in shadow. “It is a celebration of licentiousness, is it not? Truth be told, I found it most refreshing. So many of your celebrations hold little sense, after all. But an occasion to dress in seductive disguises? Simply delightful.”
“Okay, but - actually, nevermind. I’m glad you like it.”
“Thank you,” Lexi said, curtseying gracefully despite her awkward covering.
Dan checked the time again: 8:57pm, three minutes till shift change. They’d need to wait another five after that, just to be safe. From what he’d seen the Templars were punctual to a fault, but they only had one chance with this.
“Still,” the pyromancer continued, checking the street again. “Was the outfit absolutely necessary?”
“Daniel, do I question how you cast your spells.”
The man pursed his lips, considering. “You do, actually. All the time.”
Lexi waved her hand dismissively. “Nevertheless. Seduction is a performative art, and performance requires appropriate costuming. Besides,” she said, smiling mischievously, “It looks very nice, don’t you think so?”
Dan clenched his teeth, exhaling slowly through his nose. The outfit had cost $30 to have copied into an in-game model. Maybe the internet was a mistake, he thought to himself, not for the first time. He’d needed some way to explain the real world to the succubus, and in-game web browsers were simple enough to set up. She was certainly easier to talk to once he’d proven that he was from another world and that Blaze Firewilde was just a body he inhabited.
Lexi read voraciously, hungry for every scrap of information she could glean. She’d taken a particular interest in fairy tales, having noticed overlapping narratives between Dan’s world and her own. Fairy tales had led to Red Riding Hood, which had led to costumes, and then to Halloween. It was unsurprising, in retrospect, that she’d become so enamored with the particular costume.
Dan pulled himself back into the moment. “Okay, two minutes to showtime. You’re sure this will work? We can still back out now. It’s been a few days since you charmed him, right? Will the spell still hold?”
Lexi unclasped her cloak, sweeping it off in one fluid motion and pressing it into Dan’s arms. She patted his cheek, then turned and began to walk toward the gate. “You worry too much, Daniel.”
Two blonde pigtails, each tied with a red ribbon, hung down from her dark red hood. Lexi’s breasts were pressed tightly against her top, threatening to burst out of her top. A shiny black corset adorned her waist, further accentuating her bust. The dress ran just long enough to cover her from behind, but bending forward even slightly demonstrated the firm bounciness of her ass and how little her red lingerie left to the imagination. Her red leather boots were laced on either side, running up to her calves, heels clicking against the cobblestones..
Dan followed the succubus from a respectable distance, enjoying the view. Then again, he considered, $30 wasn’t that much money. Strictly to better our working relationship, of course.
* * * * *
Warrington Inquisition Barracks was a fortress. Its walls were reinforced stone and iron, windowless, with only one heavily armored door allowing entrance. No one was admitted under any circumstances save sanctioned members of the Templar Inquisition, and each knew the others by name and voice. All of these were important to the structure’s security. The most important part, however, was the fence.
It wasn’t really a fence, of course, though that’s how most referred to it. The bars were seven centimeters in diameter, four centimeters apart, and constructed from elder bronze. The metal was a remnant from the ancient dwarves, now lost to time. The only way to break the stuff was melting it with dragonfire, and even then it took several minutes to soften. It was heavily magic resistant, dispersing even the most potent of enchantments, while itself being ensorcelled to allow no creature to slip through. The fence was ten meters high, topped with razor spikes, and seemed to repulse any efforts to leap, fly, or catapult over it. Tunneling efforts had likewise proven fruitless.
Over the two years of William’s time with the Inquisition, adventurers had made increasingly creative efforts to cross the barricade. All had failed. Though gambling was discouraged among the Templar orders, there had been a moderate betting pool each month between Militia and Inquisition as to which guild would make the most outlandish attempt. Efforts had died down after the guilds realized there was absolutely nothing inside worth stealing: a Barracks’ sole purpose was to guard the Templars as they slept.
Still, it was a position of pride to be elected as night sentry over the Barracks, and it was William’s first sentry duty since his promotion to Brother of the Inquisition a week prior. Everyone was counting on him. The gate - and its guardian - were necessary to ensure swift response in the event of emergency. While it was rare for the orders to be awakened by nightfall, it was still their duty to keep alert at all hours. The Low Templars were efficient in their work, but in times such as these constant vigilance was necessary.
It was lonely work, William had been told, but that was alright. He stood watch, ears perked for signs of assailants or alarms, cloak drawn against the chill of the night air. He didn’t expect anyone to approach the gate.
He certainly hadn’t expected her.
