Monday, April 30, 2012

From Hell's Legion: The Daughters of the Goat

Vladmir felt guilty, and a little ashamed,  but the wine in his belly gave him fresh confidence as he made his way through the dark woods.  He had already lost one boot to the deep mud that surrounded his village every autumn.  He trudged to the same grove he had found on midsummer, looking for her.
    There she was, laying on a bed of moss, eating wild grapes and honeycomb, a pale beam of moonlight illuminating her naked form "Welcome back Vladmir"
   "I need to stop coming here, I am not tending to my fields, winter is coming" he stuttered as he fumbled with his clothes.  "Don't fret about such things" she cooed "You can stay in the forest with me,  I have all the food I need and more".
     "I have children to feed lovely one, and a wife to care for" though he did not stop disrobing.
     "Then fix that,  they seem to only bring you sadness" a suddenly serious tone in her voice.  Some fire raged still in Vladmir's belly as he struck her viciously,  but she did not so much as defend herself.   Two more vixens moved into the grove and began to massage his neck and shoulders  "Do not be so submissive to some crone who tricked you into marriage,  come be a real man,  come stay with us, be our master...".   He had been drinking heavily for weeks,  the whole town had.  They were all going to starve this winter anyway as the harvest was rotting on the fields.  "I'll be a free man tomorrow,  then I'll run away with you all". 
   Technically the vixen was honest,  but she didn't need any food at all. A  few grapes did not survive Vladmir the winter. 

  If one is going to be damned to all eternity, Bacchus certainly seems a fine choice to the young and the foolish.  His daughters prowl the wilderness, looking for the stupid and regretful to tempt.  At first the appearance of the Daughters of the Goat may appear a boon to a less devout community.  Wine and other intoxicants will seem to last far longer than they should.  Flasks will refill themselves slowly without being opened over the course of a few days.  Pouches of herbs will slowly overflow.  Eventually mugs of mead and horns of wine will simply begin to appear whenever one isn't looking. People will be filled with mirth and sloth, and very little work will actually get done.  This alone will infuriate local lords, and come winter, be the death of the community.
   Worse still, the Daughters themselves are not content to simply help the townsfolk blow off steam,  they desire souls as sure as any demon.  They are forbidden from violence, unable to strike back to defend themselves.  They are forced to simply dance while their whole band is slaughtered.  So to achieve their ends,  they must extract deals from those less pious individuals who are found wanting.  They will ask for increasing levels of evil in exchange for their company, and sadly, their wishes are usually granted.

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