Tara walked into the village confidently. She was here to take a soul, really any soul would do but she preferred strong young men. They were the most enjoyable to take. Tara licked her ruby lips in anticipation - few could resist her charms. Few wanted to. She opened the door of the inn and took in the scene. A dozen tables were in use, most of the men were common laborers looking to relax after a hard's day of work.
A few men wore steel, they were caravan guards. Rough men used to traveling in the wild and fending off bandits or wild animals. Tara loved warriors, how they would buck and fight once Tara revealed herself. By then it was too late oh but they fought as their souls screamed out defiance and their fate. Perhaps she would take one of the burly warriors, perhaps.
Or she could go after one of the young laborers. A young lad looked promising, Tara could tell he was a good boy. He ate quietly with his friends, kindly smiling at their jokes and refusing to partake in some of their vulgar banter. Tara loved good little boys. They were always so shocked that their life time of good deeds and careful consideration of others mattered. Tara loved disabusing them of that little notion, their lifetime of virtue meant nothing after her claws dug into their souls.
The warrior? The good boy? Or did someone else catch the eye of the hungry succubus?
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