User blog:Samuel Cheshire/Samuel's Folly (Lamia)

 Samuel’s Folly (Lamia) 

''Summary: The story of a young man and his encounter with a Lamia. (Based off my own WWYD scenario in the Lamia page.) rather than just copying and pasting, I decided to do a little bit of character development and world building just to boil off some creative juices. Hope you enjoy, constructive feedback is appreciated. '''

                                                                              .

The hottest day of the summer is slowly drawing to a close, a harsh angry sun bearing down on me so much that I could feel myself being cooked inside my leather armour. I winced with every step I took down the long, dusty road that I still had to travel and tried not to think about how long the trip back would be. Hopefully it'll be a little cooler by then if nothing goes wrong today.

I am a guardsman of the militia, currently on patrol of one of six main trading roads to my hometown of Oxenburg. Of course on a blistering hot day like this, I would much rather be anywhere else than here. Preferably in my favourite tavern with a cold drink and decent company. Instead I am tasked with patrolling an empty road for some caravan (which was three days overdue and yet somehow both the Order and the Militia refuse to spare the resources to send a scouting party, but that’s another story.) and making sure no Mamono activity takes place.

I had never seen a Mamono before in my life, the township of Oxenburg was anti-Mamono and the combined efforts of the Order and the Militia have done stalwart work in making sure that no Mamono ever encroaches upon its borders. Or at least that is what is said, it’s impossible to go ten feet without hearing some kind of propaganda. Especially with the Order and it’s insufferable clergy preaching fire and brimstone to anyone who looks even remotely suspicious.

My father was a lifelong member of the militia and my mother worked as an assistant for a local Herbalist, she always had aspirations of owning taking over her shop someday. Many people were surprised at how my father let his wife work a job, when the norm was usually for one of the parent’s to work and the other to look after and raise the children. A popular theory among the fishwives is that children require constant attention or else become criminals, utter nonsense I always thought. True, I had a lonely childhood but I always admired that while I did not always see eye to eye with them; they were very decent and hardworking folk. Worthy of the respect of their peers and their children.

The fact that I eventualy DID pursue a criminal career was purely coincidental and in no way reflects on their parenting skills at all. <p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">Getting back to the topic at hand; I, like most young boys had aspirations of joining the next batch of Hero candidates, to travel the land and putting right to what was wrong and go on marvellous adventures. Those dreams were put to rest by the bane of my young life, my father. He despised the Order and even threatened to disown me if I was to take any career path that had anything to do with those “Pampered Princes” and “Self Important Figureheads”. I used to secretly think he was nursing a grudge for failing to become one himself when he was my age, but I knew better than to give voice to my suspicions and obeyed him, begrudgingly.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">It was a good thing I followed that advice too, it seems that nowadays the requirements to becoming a quote-unquote “Hero of the Chief Deity” were to spend your days polishing some wankers armour or fetching wine for some hypocritical cardinal. A few children my age that I once knew still spend day after day getting ordered around and jeered at by the Holy Knights and still have wide eyed hopes of becoming one of them someday. I shouldn’t mock them, I came dangerously close to doing the exact same thing and I suspect my father did too at one point.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">You’re probably wondering what it is that I used to do? I told you I was guardsman of the militia but that was more or less a recent development. Until a few months ago I was a burglar. Don’t give me that look, I know stealing is a crime and it’s a pretty shitty thing to do to people, but it’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at and I had to make a living somehow. If it makes you feel better, I usually targeted the rich or those who seem like they had a bit too much for their own good. You could think of me as being in transition to being a Robin Hood; I stole from the rich but never quite got around around to giving it to the poor.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">The thing about burglary is that it’s a VERY risky job, no matter how good you are, you’re bound to make a couple of mistakes that will make every job after that one much harder. I can’t honestly say that every mistake I made was learned from, not every setback imparts wisdom. But I can trace things back to three key screw ups on my part. <span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">One, I trusted the wrong people when I should have knifed them. Two, I was underprepared for the job I undertook and was forced to cut a few corners. Three, I skipped out on hiring a fence to sell my loot. That last one being the reason I was caught.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">Far from being the most exciting tale of cops and robbers, I wasn’t caught by some legendary detective, there was no grand chase across the city and there wasn’t any melodramatic betrayal that caused my downfall. I simply got a bit too greedy, tried to sell the loot myself through monitored channels and it was traced back to me. The militia came to arrest me in my apartment while I was sleeping, I had the displeasure of being hauled from my bed and into a cell while still wearing my pyjama’s (which I also stole) before being swiftly taken to the courtroom.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">Theft in Oxenburg is dealt with swiftly, a trial doesn’t require a jury or defence just a judge and a prosecutor. This kangaroo court quickly called me guilty and carted me off to the cells to await my punishment before I could get the chance to retort or even attempt to claim my innocence. Whatever happened to “Innocent until proven guilty?” besides the recorded witness testimonies, documentation trail, and the very clothes I was wearing they had nothing on me!

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">Never mind, I just answered my own question.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">However boring the story of my capture may be, it is really here that the story begins. You remember when I said that my father was a lifelong member of the militia? Well it turns out he was more than a little miffed that his only son was being tried as a thief and he managed to pull a few strings to get me a lighter sentence; five years community service in the militia.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">That was simultaneously the best and the worst thing my father had ever done for me. On one hand he got me out of prison and being known among polite society as a criminal for the rest of my life, but on the other he was forcing me to do life threatening, if honest, work. Had he done nothing then at best the court would have given me a few years imprisonment with hard labour, at worst they would hang me. Justice was remarkably swift in an order controlled state.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">A mixed blessing one could argue.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">He probably hoped that serving in the militia would straighten me out and because, secretly, seeing his son carry on the family’s military career was all he ever wanted from me. But this story isn’t about the rocky relationship I had with my father, let’s move on.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">The militia puts its recruits through mandatory training with Boot Camps, Drill Sergeants and all that crap. The preliminary training itself took only 12 weeks and was gruelling in every sense of the word, we were drilled on everything from combat, field repair, first aid, Mamono study and a fuck-ton of other such things that I never imagined myself ever using in my everyday life. There are very few opportunities for a career thief in a city to need to know how to track wild game or use a sword on horseback but I can’t deny it is pretty damn cool to know how to do those things. I think I remember my father trying to teach me some of this as a child but I was unable to appreciate it at that age, funny how you mature with these things isn’t it?

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">The militia were the guards, police, scouts, infantry and overall peacekeepers of the city. Unlike the Order, we were to handle the jobs that they deem unimportant or too costly for their Knights, Sorcerers or Priests to do, which in a cesspit of a city like Oxenburg; was everything that required walking from Point A to Point B.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">This isn’t an exaggeration either; I genuinely have no clue what it is that the Order even does in this city except that apparently the local government considers them utterly irreplaceable. The Knights are only ever seen patrolling or even loitering around the Order HQ in Brusselbeck, the clergy sequestered in their many churches and cathedrals where they preach the words of the Chief Deity to any and every one. The Mages are a complete mystery and are rarely seen outside. I’d even go so far as to say that I doubt their very existence.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">Unfortunately, the general public does not see it quite that way. The Order is very big on patriotism and propaganda, they inform the citizens at every turn that they are keeping order and keeping them safe by parading around a few handsome knights in shiny plate armour on one of their many ‘Saintly Holidays’ and saying nothing about how the militia itself is doing the real work to keep them safe. <span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A"> It’s funny, I used to love those parades too. So many people with their eyes glued to the marching soldiers that they never notice my fingers in their pockets… This job is clearly starting to get to me, I should move on.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">My company commander, Captain Pierce, was a tall, middle aged man with greying hair and a severe expression on his face that looked as if he always had a stone in his shoe. He was a real ‘stiff upper lip’ kind of man and was very harsh on his troops. He was also acquainted with my father, but not in an overall positive way; so when he recognized his son among his troops he took GREAT pleasure in assigning the worst jobs to me.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">In this case, I've been assigned road patrol duty outside of the wall. Doesn’t sound too bad, I know, but being made to patrol the main roads outside the wall meant being unprotected from Mamono, and any backup is far away from you. At best you’d be able to sound an alarm and HOPE that they’ll hear you all the way at the barracks. The job itself is mostly to make sure the road is safe for travellers and caravans to make it safely to the wall as well as monitor for any growing Mamono activity, but that doesn’t make the job any less dangerous.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">Now that you know my life story, we are just about back to the present. Me, the reluctant patrolman doing what it is militia patrolmen do. Patrol. It is as every bit as boring as it sounds, the tedium digs into you like hot needles and the sweat causes the uniform to squeeze in places that should never have pressure applied. But given the nature of the job we were required to be on guard at all times, especially when outside the wall.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">I wiped my brow as I entered the shade of a nearby oak and was just about to reach for my canteen when I noticed something. An overturned cart. Never a good sign. It was small, perhaps only used to carry a few sacks of grain or barley to trade at the market. I cautiously approached it, as my Sergeant had constantly drilled me to assume hostility in these kinds of situations.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">The cart was deserted, not a soul in sight. I looked around a little more and saw a number of sacks and crates had been smashed over the roadside, spilling their contents all over. Rice, seeds and honeyed wine scattered across the dirt. Such a waste. I relaxed slightly, for now convinced that this was not an ambush by some desperate brigands or highwaymen, this certainly didn’t look like a robbery. I should know.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">I set myself to the task of investigating the crash. If there wasn’t anyone trapped beneath then perhaps they left some valuables behind.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">What can I say? Old habits die hard.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">The cart seemed small enough to only carry a light load and the reigns indicated that it was pulled by a single animal. “Huh.” I huffed, ''“Tracks indicate it wasn’t a horse or donkey pulling the cart. A bison perhaps?”'' I mused to myself out loud, bison’s were very strong and good for carrying large, heavy loads for long distances as long as you don’t mind going slow. But they also spook easily, probably how the cart got overturned in the first place. Seemed odd to use a bison to carry a load this light though, would have been better to get a couple of strong horses and he would have gotten to his destination a lot faster.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">The tracks of the cart suggest that there were two passengers, given the differing size of boot prints. So what I can guess is that something managed to spook the bison causing it to break the reigns holding it and causing the cart to flip over. But given that there aren’t any bodies, I guess they survived. I searched a bit more for their tracks until I found a single lone pair of boot prints heading off into the trees. I looked around some more but found nothing to suggest that the second man followed him.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">''“Strange. Where’d the other guy get to?”'' I scratched my chin thoughtfully, perhaps I’d read the tracks wrong? Or maybe the first guy picked up the second and carried him off? But if that’s the case, why did he leave the road and go off into the trees?

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">“Well, Sammy.” I said to myself with a sigh, “Back to the barracks for a shower and a drink or follow the tracks and find out what the hell is going on here?” Being the only one on the road, I of course received no answer. I pulled myself back up onto my feet and then started making my into the foliage, following what little tracks there were to follow.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">I never did follow the tracks to find the recipient, as not far into my little nature hike I stumbled upon something else entirely. Something which I suspect was responsible for spooking the bison in the first place.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">A humanoid figure, female, was lying in the middle of a glade, face down in the dirt, her body littered with cuts and bruises indicating she was in a fight and was most likely the loser. But that wasn’t what drew my immediate attention; it was the long serpentine tail extending ten to twelve feet outwards from where a normal human’s legs would be.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">I thought back to my studies, this creature was called a Lamia; half human-half serpent. They tend to live in villages and possess high magical capabilities, it’s difficult to sort the bullshit the Order tells us and the actual facts, but it’s also apparently said that they have the ability to enchant and beguile men with their voices. It sounded like nonsense, but I couldn’t help but be wary; one thing all the accounts on these particular Mamono agreed on was that they were known to be very strong and very cunning. The ‘magical’ implications of their species aside, I can tell that it is very possible that if I get too close that she could ensnare me with her tail.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">My natural paranoia, however, did nothing to stop me from following the biological conditioning present in all virile young men, and naturally found myself inventing reasons to checking her out. Although in my own defence, she IS the first monster I have ever encountered before in my life so curiosity as to whether they live up to the hype is natural. Or at least that is what I may have to say in my report later when I get back.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">She had long blonde hair and soft, supple skin that made her look completely human until around her waist where shiny greenish-blue scales took place in a rather beautiful pattern across the back and a pale yellow underbelly. She seemed young, if I had to hazard a guess I’d say she was about my age; but I have no clue how Lamia or Mamono in general even age; the few books I manage to read on the subject of their biology is mostly speculation and falls woefully short on details that are in the (now outlawed) Monster Girl Encyclopaedia.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">I can understand why the manuals and books we were allowed to study would say that they were able to beguile men. The human half is beautiful enough that I would bet my next pay that it would leave even the most celibate of priests spellbound. The Mamono part of her was also just so… majestic that I couldn’t help but stare in wonder at how alien it looked. I was stricken with the sudden desire to see her tail in motion, how does it compare to a human’s legs? How fast can she perform tasks such as climbing or swimming or fighting?

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">I had to shake my head a little to bring myself back to the present, I can peruse the library on these subjects back home on my next day off, when I HAVEN’T got a potential threat to my life lying mere feet away from me. I took a deep breath and had another look at my options.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">I edge closer until I can just make out the wounds on her body, they were done by a sword from the look of them, the exact make of the sword is unknown; I would have to ask someone with more knowledge of the craft. But I could hazard a guess as to who could have done it; a member of the Order, obviously, but their warriors were taught to slay Mamono while this one appears to only be wounded. It could have been a sympathetic hero trying to defend themselves or an armed traveller who got in a lucky blow. But it puzzles me that they would let this creature live at all.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">I cast my thoughts back to when I found the trail, there had been clear signs of a struggle but nothing to suggest that blood had been drawn, I took a few more steps closer and closer until I was just outside of arms reach and craned my neck to get a good look at her face. She appeared to be breathing. I studied the pool of blood forming around her wounds, if I had to guess I'd say that whoever attacked her did so not that long ago, definitely less than an hour. It couldn't have been the Order, only me and four others were on patrol in this region, so that means it could very well have been a Hero or an adventurer on the road. I shrugged; the culprit doesn't really matter at this point. If they didn’t finish her off immediately, then it’s doubtful they'll come back here for her, at the most maybe someone will submit a report about a Mamono sighting but that would take a full day to be processed and a hunting party would be dispatched by the Order. But by the time the militia organizes a hunting party then chances are she would have moved on. The only thing that remains is what to do now that I'd found her...

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">I may not believe in the Order's teachings but they were not lying when they said that Mamono are dangerous in their own right, despite how she may appear to be a cute girl she is still an anomaly and one that could easily take down any normal human. I drew my eyes down her sensuously proportioned body to her thick serpentine tail; her bright scales seemed to shimmer in the fractured sunlight of the trees. Beautiful.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">I wrestled with the thoughts in my head. The most economical choice would be for me to simply pretend I never saw her, go back to my patrol and let Darwinism sort out the rest. But something in me, a churning sensation in my stomach, told me that was a bad idea, I looked her over one more time; making note of her cute face and curvaceous body. Even her slender, reptilian tail had a majestic charm to it that seemed to draw me in; I shook my head and chalked that feeling up to male hormones. "Stop thinking with your penis." I muttered to myself, bringing myself back to reality.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">I had basic medical supplies in my pack for situations like these, she may require a few stitches here and there but the rest would merely need to be cleaned, disinfected and wrapped up. But there’s no guarantee that helping her would lead to anything good, if the Order was to ever get wind of it they would most likely label me a heretic or a deviant and throw me in a cell. Considering my already existing criminal record before conscription, it's also very likely they'll put my head on the block. The thought was not pleasant, I had few friends in the militia and I know there is no one in the clergy who would vouch for me should the worst come to pass. For all their claims of being the moral backbone of humanity, they are sure quick to cast damnation on people who even consider helping or consorting with anything non-human.

<p style="margin-top:4.8pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">Even my father wouldn’t be able to talk his son out of a “Fraternizing with Monsters” charge. In Oxenberg that is worthy of skipping the trial altogether and going straight to the sentence. No judge necessary, just a rope. Or a pyre. I shuddered at the thought, but my mind still kept running through my options despite the nagging of the consequences bouncing around in my head.

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">The second option would be to kill her; I fidgeted with the blade in my hand, considering it. Killing her would potentially net me some points with my superiors, could possibly get me out of patrol duty for a while. But knowing Captain Pierce, he wouldn't even mention my name in his report, there’s also the fact that this Lamia is already injured; how long would it take a proper medic or even other members of my squad to realize the inconsistencies with my weapon and the one that gave her all these injuries?

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline">''<span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt; font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica;color:#3A3A3A">"Fuck." ''<span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A"> I cursed, running a few fingers through my hair in frustration at my predicament. "No matter how I look at it, nothing good can happen today."

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">Maybe I'm overthinking things... If I spend too long standing here like a jackass and worrying about the consequences of my actions then it'll be too late to make any kind of decision. I bit my tongue and unbuckled my knapsack from my belt, containing the basic medical supplies within it. “Be thankful I waste my energies on you.” I muttered to her under my breath as I busied myself readying the various tools.

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">The work was slow, tenuous at first, but eventually I relaxed and focused entirely on treating her wounds once I was convinced that she wasn’t going to wake up and pounce on me. I used up nearly all of my bandages and rubbing alcohol on the serpent part of her body, focusing on the more serious wounds. I had to settle with using a medical salve for the rest of the cuts on her human half. I didn't have enough sutures to stitch her deeper wounds, nor would I want to start working on them without properly sterilizing both the wound and the tools. Also, I’m pretty sure sticking needles in her without anaesthetic would cause her to wake up. I didn’t want that. So I settled for merely applying as much salve as I could and biding the wound with the remainder of the bandages.

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">"There." I said to myself, wiping the sweat from my brow, a little proud at what I accomplished in spite of dealing with a creature of non-human anatomy.'' "That's the best I could do. You're on your own now." ''I packed up my Knapsack and the remaining contents, not wanting to leave any evidence of my presence here in case someone else found her after I left. I looked up to see the daylight was quickly fading and cursed, it’s probably long since time for me to check in with my company clerk about my patrol. If I hurry I could probably explain that I took an unscheduled break for a little while, I’d be accused of laziness but that’s better than being accused of treason.

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">   I picked up the pace and swept the last of the empty bottles and discarded bandages into my bag when I felt a slender hand grab my wrist, firmly. I gave a little yelp of surprise and looked up to see the face of the Lamia inches away from my own, breathing heavily and gazing at me with large, expressive yellow eyes. I pulled my arm away from her, breaking her grip and fell onto my backside in the process. Remembering my training, I quickly rolled over onto my belly and leapt back onto my feet, then ran. I didn't get far. Her long tail wrapped around my waist and pulled me backwards with tremendous strength that sent me sprawling onto he dirty forest floor. I struggled and tried to get back onto my feet, but she was too quick and coiled her body around my waist, pinning my arms uselessly to their sides. “Shit!” I yelped, trying to break her grip but I knew it was too late; a serpent’s body is like one giant muscle and there was no way that I could escape the vicelike grip of a Lamia once she coiled around me.

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">She laughs, never before has such a beautiful and melodious sound struck me with such terror, squeezed me with her powerful tail, causing me to cry out weakly from the pressure. I glanced up; she was looking at me curiously, like a child would at an anthill. Her long, forked tongue flickered out and licked my cheek, tasting me. I shuddered as I recalled a time in my childhood when I had seen a field mouse get caught by a snake, it squeezed and choked it to death before swallowing it whole. That is exactly the fate this creature has in store for me now, I glared back up at her, hiding my fear with defiance. I should have killed her when I had the chance. I should have remembered that compassion brings down empires, and now it's brought down me.

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline">''<span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt; font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica;color:#3A3A3A">"Don't be scared, cutie." <span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt; font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica;color:#3A3A3A"> She hissed, playfully, "I'm just repaying you for your kindness..."'' her tail tightened around me, pulling me closer to her. I gritted my teeth in slight pain, somehow I'm not sure I believe her, but I was in no position to say anything at the moment other than struggle helplessly.

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">She giggled in obvious pleasure and cupped her hands to her chest, “I have you to thank for tending to my injuries, don’t I?” She asked with a large smile plastered on her face, ''“Aren’t you a sweetie? I could just eat you up…”'' I shut my eyes and tried to focus on something other than the pain, namely my right hand; it was closest to the sheath holding my knife so maybe if I squirm just enough I'll be able to reach it...

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline">''<span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt; font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica;color:#3A3A3A">"Ah, ah, ah." <span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A"> She tsked disapprovingly, cupping my chin with her hand and forcing me to look up at her, "Eyes front, cutie."'' He grip tightened around my body, making it hard to breathe, I took the hint and opened my eyes to look at her grinning down at me with a triumphant expression as she loosened her grip just a little.

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline">''<span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt; font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica;color:#3A3A3A">"That's it, cutie." ''<span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A"> She purred, cradling my face in her hands, lovingly. "Just relax and let me take control..."

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">I suddenly became aware of a tingling sensation running down my body and a growing sense of dizziness began to overwhelm me, making it difficult to think or concentrate. I blinked a few times, like I was trying to wake up or focus my vision but it wasn’t helping. A dense fog began to draw itself over my mind; it felt like my head was full of Styrofoam. The lamia began to caress and massage my temples, "Don't worry, it'll wear off soon. It's just a little bit of magic to leave your mind open to suggestion. Just relax and listen to my voice..."

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">I yawned, weakly, my head dipping a little as the fuzzy feeling in my brain began to spread to my hands and feet, I stopped trying to reach my dagger and felt my body relax into her coils, all of my energy gone. Only too late did I realize what was happening, if the stories are true then it means that this Lamia is putting me under some kind of hypnosis or brainwashing spell. My body felt paralyzed and yet I still tried with what strength I could muster to try and move my head away from her as if I could simply shake it off, but all this did was elicit another musical laugh from her. “No resisting, cutie.” She said in a sing-song voice as her tail tightened its grip around my neck to hold me in place. I choked, slightly at the unexpected pressure around my neck, I couldn't even move my head anymore, all I could do was look up at her, dizzily. I was powerless

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt; font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica;color:#3A3A3A">‘S-shit…’ <span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A"> I thought, realizing that I was fading out of consciousness and the look of defiance on my face slowly turned into a simple vacant expression, ''“You like the feeling of my coils, don’t you? Just surrender yourself to me, cutie. I promise it’ll feel amazing…“'' I heard her say as she pulled me into an embrace and began whispering sweet nothings into my ear. After a while, I couldn’t even hear any of them, they sounded like inaudible and distorted white noise bouncing around in my skull.

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A">I began nodding my head while she whispered things to me, the exact words she was saying stop mattering, I gave up trying to listen and just lay there, placidly, even though I could no longer understand the words they sounded just so right. But some small part of my mind tried to resist this feeling, I could feel it in my head, it was thrashing and howling like a frightened animal. I tried to move my mouth to form words, to do something but I was interrupted by the feeling of her soft lips pressing against my own.

<p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:16.5pt;background:#D3D0C5;vertical-align:baseline">''<span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt; font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica;color:#3A3A3A">"Shhhh, darling." ''<span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.5pt;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica; color:#3A3A3A"> She whispered to me after she broke the kiss, grinning hugely at me, hanging limp and enraptured in her control as I was. "Everything will be clear to you soon. For now just sleep. That’s it. Sleep, sleep. Sleeeeep."