It must have been just plain old fun, a bucket of dick-licking goodness with a side of booty biscuits. What Robin really needed was to find a way to make Zebryl more loyal to him than to his sister. Or at least, loyal.
In an endeavor to find success in life, Robin at some point had been advised to “be like water” which meant shaping yourself to the container of the situation around you. While that might be good advice to an actor striving to embody an unfamiliar character, and it might even be sound behavior in many social settings, in this wicked world if he chose to wear mantle he’d have to become a terrible person. A true horror. He was adamantly unwilling to sacrifice his humanity just to mold himself to this environment.
He carefully shifted position in the tangled sheets hoping not to rouse Zebryl. The devil slept on his side facing Robin which allowed his wings to drape off the edge of the bed. While it might be thrilling to soar through the skies, the big flappy appendages certainly would be a nuisance on basic furniture like beds and chairs. How the devils and Martiposa didn’t go around knocking things off walls and shelves all the time was a testament to their natural awareness of the space they occupied.
As if detecting Robin’s scrutiny, Zebryl’s ruby eyes opened, he yawned widely letting his forked tongue loll seductively across his lower lip. Memory of what that mouth had done to his nether bits last night reawakened said nether bits.
Robin adopted a small smile. “Good morning, mister. I hope you’re feeling recharged.”
“Dear Robin, you always leave me charged,” Zebryl responded, propping his horned head on one hand, elbow pressing into the pillow. “I do believe, with the capture of this Home Basecabal
Robin tried to sound enthused. “Uh… yeah. Sure.” He sat up and kept the sheets covering his no-no zone. “I was thinking of making you a gift
“Really? Are you good at hand crafts? I’d love to have something made with love and artisanal deftness.”
Robin snorted. “Hardly. I once tried to do origami seagulls. The results were little better than spit wads with beaks. No, I was thinking I’d magic something up with my SantaSack
The devil sat up, a flare of greedy fire behind his gaze. “Truly? You would gift me a treasure from the relic
Robin had to be careful with his next words. He knew that verbal contracts with a devil could be powerfully binding, but he didn’t want to be obvious about it. “Yeah, of course, though I don’t know about the value and power part. Do you like games? Card games and such?”
Zebryl nodded. “Assuredly, I do. I have even learned some human games, like Poker. When I had the nightclub, I would frequently host an exclusive Strip Poker tournament in the back parlor. It was a clever way to get patrons lulled into fixating on the game and the resultant shedding of apparel. I was able to jump-scare them with wicked punishments at each mishandled bet. I must say, the flavor of fright produced by dismay at going broke is among my favorite.”
“Cool, cool. Well, I was thinking maybe I’d conjure up a special deck of cards for a game we call Hearts. It’s super popular where I come from. It’s what’s called a trick-taking game.”
Zebryl grinned. “How delightful. I turn tricks for a living so this sounds perfect. But why is it called Hearts? I don’t have to become Feral
“No, no. Nothing like that,” Robin chuckled. “It’s called Hearts because one of the suits in the deck of cards, the same I assume you’ve been playing Poker with, is symbolized with hearts.”
“Of course, how silly of me,” Zebryl tisked.
Robin patted Zebryl’s cheek fondly. “So, in this game, skillful players seek to gain all the heart cards the queen of spades thus reducing their score. You see, the object is to have the lowest score at the end of the game.”
“I am with you so far,” Zebryl nodded. He let one hand slip under the covers to fetch Robin’s aforementioned nether bits. “Please, do go on.”
“Well, I figure you’ve got a hold of my hard heart right now and you’ve been really good at taking care of me. Like when you retrieved me from Monika’s after I misguidedly took off. Like when you took me to the fairgrounds and showed me a good time. Like all the nights we’ve romped and railed.”
“And don’t forget the various afternoons we have also romped and railed,” Zebryl pointed out naughtily.
Robin forced a smile as he pulled the Santa Sackand soul. We can agree to always be there for each other, no matter who or what gets in the way.” He began the NiceTalk
ROBIN’s RESULTS: zero successes!
ESN d6 = 2
Nice Talk d6 = 1
Nice Talk d4 = 2
Nice Talk d4 = 1
FOR d6, REA d6+d8, WLP d4+d10, PRE 2d10+2d12, BOH 2d8+d12
While Robin was fretting at having cocked up the spell and wondering if the sack would even produce anything, Zebryl’s hands were busy under the sheets stroking both their dicks. His eyes were closed with concentration while his forked tongue absently licked his lips. Was he casting a spell, too? No. No dice rolled off him.
Robin nervously reached into the SantaSacksomething and not the empty bottomless pit he knew lived a happy life inside the soft red fabric.
Zebryl opened his eyes bringing both hands into view. They were cupped together as if he had been packing a snow ball. “Where I come from, it is customary to exchange gifts so as not to appear needy or selfish. So I have crafted something for you as well.”
“We have a similar tradition where I’m from too,” Robin vamped. “Exchanging gifts is, like, the highest form of respect for another person and is symbolic of deepening gratitude and connection. Like I said, we also usually seal a gifting ceremony with a promise or declaration, you know, nothing too obnoxious.”
The literal tiny fires in Zebryl’s eyes snuffed out with one blink of alluring eyelids. “Robin, my dear. I’m afraid I can make no such affirmation at this time. Contracts of such nature are delicate — not to mention, permanent — so good devils never so easily agree to anything… long-lasting. Not unless death is on the line.”
. After rooting around the sack’s emptiness for a tense moment more, Robin slowly withdrew his hand relieved to have grasped what felt like a pack of common playing cards, though he doubted they had any magical ability whatsoever. He revealed them to Zebryl who obligingly andThe deck of cards was surprisingly beautiful, artistic even. They were foiled and embossed with teeny tiny flecks of ruby gems and onyx chips embedded in the material. They glinted pleasingly in the daylight coming through the small bedroom window.
Zebryl parted his hands to reveal an actual ruby; a multi-faceted stone, vaguely heart-shaped about the size of an apricot. “This is crafted with my true affection for you, Robin. If you look closely in the light, you’ll see a wee swirl in its center. That is a small quiddity taken from each of us. I have woven it together in perpetual intimacy. It is as unique to us and this world as the gift you have made for me.”
“I love it,” Robin intoned, faux-breathlessly. He hoped he didn’t come off too soap-opera-y.
“And what does this deck of cards do?” Zebryl asked. “I am most curious to know more about this grand piece of powerful Equipment
Robin gulped. “I don’t know for sure. It’s always kind of a surprise, right? We’ll have to play around with it and find out. In the meantime, I think I’d like to play around with something else.” He dove his head under the sheets.
Disappointed as Robin felt inside at his failure to clinch a proverbial collar upon the devil, they concluded the exchange with another hour of surprisingly tender love-making.
? ? ?
“We are about to be assaulted.”
Robin had fallen asleep in Zebryl’s arms and was being abrasively poked in the head by Asahlina standing immediately pillow-side.
“I smell Undead
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“Is this some sort of fart-huffing ?” Robin whined. “As soon as we start settling in somewhere, the game world decides to launch an all-out-attack? Why can’t we just have some peace and quiet for, like, a week?”
Zebryl yawned, rubbing at his eyes. “What’s the matter now?” He peered at Ashalina. “Is something afoot?”
“I smell many rotting feet. A horde of the un-living is in the vicinity. We are the most likely target,” Ashalina blandly reexplained.
Zebryl made a startling noise in his throat rather like a swallowed dog bark. Robin wrote it off as a biological mannerism of fright or concern. The incubus leaped out of bed bothering only to put on his long vest and deposit Robin’s deck of cards in one pocket. “To the roof,’ he commanded. “Wake my sister and rouse Martiposa.”
The zombie delivered a vacant stare at Zebryl. Robin translated the look, “Zeb, she already told Yarya and was ignored.”
Zebryl snorted. “Typical. Fine, I’ll fetch her and the pixie while you two get to the roof and get a lay of the situation.”
Unlike his paramour, Robin did bother to put on all his clothes before catching up to Ashalina on top of the firehouse. He was horrified to find the tenement building next door that had been turned Infernalcabal’sHomeBaseUndeadsect There were at least 100 newly-dead enemies having a mid-day mosey right toward them. He thought he might even recognize a few as people who had helped clean up the firehouse.
“Turd crumpets,” Robin muttered. “It looks like the FeralsUndeadHomeBase
“Yes,” Ashalina agreed, clinically. “And they have Converted
Robin whistled. “Wow, I didn’t think plainFolk could become Players
Ashalina turned to face him, her face implacably staid, “Yes we can, but only as Undead,
Head spinning at that revelation, Robin almost missed the arrival of another — blessedly smaller — group of Undead
Robin pointed at them. “Are those flying ones vampires?”
“Yes.”
“I thought they couldn’t survive in sunlight?”
“They can, though too much sunshine is bad for anyone.”
“How the fuck are we going to fight off all that?” Dismay clung to the edges of Robin’s voice. “I bet they’re coming to retaliate against the Ferals
“Not likely, boy,” Yarya declared haughtily, strutting onto the rooftop with Zebryl and Martiposa in tow. “From what I’ve gathered, this particular sect of Undeadwards
. Robin’s gaze darted about the rooftop. The ramshackle shack of a ‘watchtower’ on teetering stilts offered no hope of anything, let alone defense. It was as likely to collapse under their weight as it was to provide shelter, though there only appeared to be two airborne enemies. “What about that big water cannon thing?”
Yarya guffawed. “I trust this hovel’s former resident’s quality control as much as those Undeads’
Not wanting to debate the peevish devil, Robin decided it wouldn’t hurt to try the gun. If StinkPew had been correct and the FeralsUndead
“Robin, what ever do you think you’re doing?” Zebryl demanded.
“Just testing a theory, my love,” Robin chirped as he took hold of the two-handles and swiveled the gun on its wobbly tripod to take aim at the nearest portion of zombies down on the street.
Ashalina moved with unusual haste toward the door to retreat inside the firehouse. Maybe she suspected there was truth to the squirt cannon’s content’s deleterious effects against her kind.
“By the Blessed Roses of Zion, Robin, do not shoot the pixie vampires!” Martiposa half-screamed in desperation. “One of them is my daughter!”
Not bothering to let that revelation sink in just yet, Robin thumbed the buttons on each hand grip. The cannon, fed by a thin hose connected to the cistern above them, let loose a stream of yellow water. The jetting liquid turned into misty rain as it fell the three stories to coat a respectable swathe of the grey zombie herd closest to the firehouse. Just as they began pounding on the garage door in their assault on the building, their efforts turned to gurgles and a muted hissing.
Robin stopped the spray and leaned out to examine the results. Grey zombies writhed and wriggled on the sidewalk, their flesh melting like candle wax. “Hot damn, it works! We might survive another day after all.”
With all the irritating power of grand irony, Robin was immediately forced to eat those words.
“Incoming aerial assault from behind,” Martiposa warned, pointing behind the cistern toward the 10-story roof of another tenement building. A trio of Undead
“Zebryl, you deal with those three,” Yarya ordered. “I’ll deal with the vampires.” The two devils launched themselves into the air with powerful thrusts of their wide bat-like wings.
“Yarya, do not hurt my girl!” Martiposa yelled. He too took to the air in pursuit of the succubus.
Robin was alone on the rooftop wishing he had some method of flight. With nothing better to contribute to their defense, he turned the squirt gun as far to the left as he could and took aim on another section of the zombie horde.
These obviously weren’t brainless movie monsters. All the ones he could see below seemed more like fully-thinking people, like Ashalina. Sure, most of them appeared ponderously slow — a classic trope, for sure — but he knew he was killing actual people; helpless NPCs who had been unfairly enslaved to some, as yet unseen, Undead
He spun around just in time to see one of the ghoulish flying squirrels alight on the dilapidated watchtower shack. It chittered annoyingly and laughed as Robin floundered to see if he had been actually wounded.
Turned out, the little beast had slashed the hose disconnecting the squirt cannon from the cistern leaving yellow liquid to spill out the severed end of the hose. Robin sighed inwardly with relief. He was just covered in anti-undead piss potion, not his own blood. .
He glared up at the squirrel. “Alright you gibbering little sky goblin, how’d you like a dose of…” Robin discovered that the squirt cannon did not swivel all the way around so as to aim at anything the roof. “Gawd dammit!”
The squirrel pointed at Robin's ineptitude even more aggressively and snickered with a wet gargle.
Robin snatched up the end of the hose still attached to the cistern and pointed it at the squirrel. The yellow liquid dwindled to a trickle and stopped flowing entirely. He grimaced at all the yellow liquid covering the rooftop under his feet.
The squirrel launched at him claws extended. Robin dashed toward the door to get inside hoping the Undead
If this situation got any worse, he didn’t want to get caught without the SantaSackUndead
He grabbed the relicUndeadI guess my best bet is to head back to the roof, though that makes me feel like one of the dumbfucks in a horror movie always making bad choices and getting killed for it.
He mentally prepared his ZingZap
ROBIN’s RESULTS: 4 successes [quality = 29]
ESN d6 = 6
ZingZap d8 = 8
ZingZap d8 = 5
ZingZap d10 = 10
GHOULSQUIRREL’s RESULTS: 3 successes [quality = 18]
AGL d12 = 8
Dodge d8 = 4
Dodge d6 = 6
Dodge d4 = 3 [reduced from d8 by close quarters]
The actinic bolt of lightning burst from Robin’s hand clipping the creature in one shoulder. It screamed and was sent stumbling backward outside where it inadvertently stepped into the potion puddles. Its feet began to sizzle.
Robin took half a dozen tentative steps forward to get partially up the short stairway to the roof. The ghoulSquirrel was tap dancing for its life as whips of fire snapped down from above keeping it from getting airborne.
Zebryl was back. Robin actually breathed a sigh of relief at having not been abandoned. Maybe the devil care for him, in his own selfish way. As Robin emerged back into the open air, Zebryl’s fireWhip
“Hurry along, Robin,” Zebryl demanded, nakedly hovering in the air with repeated beats of his wings. “It looks like we must evacu—” A sharp explosion rumbled the air and the building itself. The zombie horde must have broken down a door and gotten Knock-Knock-Kaboomed
“No fucking way, Zeb,” Robin hollered. “We’re not abandoning another HomeBase
The incubus had the decency to look chagrined. “I’m afraid so, my love. Martiposa was taken out by his own daughter and the other vampire is pressing my sister to her limits. She broke off her attack and is fetching Ashalina right now. I will carry you.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake—” was all Robin managed to utter before Zebryl swooped down, took him by the armpits and hauled him skyward with a deep grunt at the effort. At least he’d get to fly… sort of.