Sune's Solution (D&D/MGE)

Thanks to @Nottheunmaker for the comm!

This is a sequel to this - Sune's Solution (D&D/MGE) Mature - Fantasy

—

"I think… I hate… both of you…" Ariana says, every word a gasp as she marches, nay steps, nay wobbles along. The armor was part of her now, merged with her flesh, the sword was an extension of her arm. Both were, at first, weightless, as easy as moving a limb. She could feel the power.

What she wasn't, however, was a fighter. Much less when she had 'help'. It had been a day since she had bonded with the armor and the blade, and since then, she had rather happily accepted a quest. It was a novice thing, a decent payout. Necessary, below her station perhaps, but it needed to be done. Though, to say it went well…

"I can't believe you had this much trouble with simple goblins." The sword chirps.

"Dum… dum." The armor adds.

"Like…" Ariana raises a hand to wipe at her mouth. "Like you two helped. What's the big idea with trying to move me around like a street dancer or trying to SNAP MY DAMN SPINE IN HALF!?"

"Well I never," the sword replies. "I'll have you know that those were some of the finest sword moves I was guiding you into. It's not my fault you didn't commit."

"Me… make… move… to… safety…" The armor says, sounding rather sad. "Don't…want…hurt…"

Ariana lifts the sword… arm. "You can cut through anything." Then she lifts the other arm, covered in metal. "And you are damn near invincible. So why not just let me take over?"

"What, and let you have all the fun?" the sword replies. "I'll have you know I've been fighting in wars longer than your family likely existed girl. It's not my fault that you decided to go goblin hunting with no training."

"Need… to… work… on… fundamentals." The armor says.

Ariana moves the sword closer to her face, growling. However, with how exhausted she was, it sounded more like a temperamental kitten than an angry warrior. "How about the two of you work together?"

Neither responded for a moment. Leaving Ariana to stand, staring at her sword, in the middle of a public street, covered in blood that isn't her own. People tried not to stare.

"Well, we've fought against each other a lot in the past, and sometimes on the same side. But being on the same body, well, things are tricky. Your mind is a jumbled mess of… well, look… maybe just…" The sword stops talking.

"You… should… entreat… another… for… visitations… of… salacious… dalliances…" The armor drones.

"I should what?" Ariana asks.

"Get laid." The sword summarizes succinctly. "You're a mess of issues wrapped up real tight in a box of problems."
"You've known me for six hours!"

"Noble… lady… trying… to… kill… goblins… without… training." The armor says, then vibrates, almost like it was laughing. "Very… funny…"

"No thanks to you," Ariana grumbles, then begins trudging along once more. Her sword arm falls once more, letting the tip of it drag in the mud as she walks.

"Hey! My finish!"

"Like. I Care." Ariana replies. "All I want to do right now is to drop off the talismans from the dead goblins… get my reward… and get a bath."

"Whistling… innocently." The armor says.

Ariana stops, and looks down at the black breastplate in confusion. "What?"

"How are you going to take a bath?" the sword asks.

"How else? With soap and water." Ariana replies, lifting up the sword again, the tendrils pulsing in her ar…

Arm.

"Oh." Ariana says, with roughly the same tone a wizard uses when realizing they mistook the rune for 'succubus' with that of 'pit fiend' on their summoning circle. "Oh."

"So, ready for some trai- NOT MY FINISH!" The sword shrieks as it is slammed against the mud repeatedly.

View: https://i.imgur.com/hqKEHj0.jpeg

The Meido,

Done by the lovely https://www.artstation.com/bspence

[Chase after her]
You won't leave Isabella alone.

Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!

—

You stare after her for a moment, then turn your head back, your hand resting on the hilt of your blade. "All of you, stay here. I'm going after her."

"You're… not going to…" Brynhild asks, her eyes flitting to your sword.

"No, of course not." You reply, giving Brynhild a gentle smile. "I do not know how she might react to blood. But Isabella is to be protected, not slain." Your eyes flit to your squire. "All of you, back to the man-... Actually, no. Fuyao, might you look for my mother and bring her back to the temple? I still need to speak to her."

"Sure you don't need help, boss?"

You say nothing for a moment, debating how to best put this bef-

"You get your eyes off my stomach. I'm pregnant, not an invalid." Fuyao says. "Go, we'll handle it."

"Do feel free to slay the vampire if you have t-" Ilias begins, but doesn't get particularly far as Brynhild 'accidentally' steps on her foot as she turns around.

Yelling begins, but you pay it little attention, instead running out the backdoor yourself and into one of the many, many alleys that make up the dockside of Baldur's gate. The buildings here were all temporary, the kind of temporary that lasted a few decades until the local council member who ordered their construction is retired, killed, or run out of town. So that the next lord can come around, clean it all up, and allow new temporary lodgings to come in. This cycle will repeat ad infinitum until Lord Ao decides it's time to wrap up the temporary lodging known as Toril. You step out into the muck, few were about, and of those, none pleasant. And none were your vampire. The mud carried many footprints, but there were too many, too spread out, to identify Isabella specifically amongst them.

But then, you had hardly ever had an issue with tracking.

Placing a hand over your chest, you close your eyes, and offer a silent prayer to Sune. Lady of Grace, Lady of Beauty, give me guidance in the hunt for this vampire. You feel it then, a brush of a hand against your face, the scent of perfume. And your eyes open.

Two hundred yards away, northeast, moving quickly. And you begin to run.

The docks are, by and large, the most dangerous part of Baldur's Gate, filled with all manner of pirate, thief, and miscreant. By and large tolerated by the powers that be as, in their eyes, if crime remains in the docks it doesn't spread nearly as much to the rest of the city. That wasn't to say crime didn't exist outside of it; of course it did, it always did. But it was manageable, and the docks… were the docks, it was best, in their eyes, that it handled itself. You disagreed of course, but there were more pressing concerns for you to deal with. So, as you moved, you could see just about every form of den, every form of gang, every form of institute of ill repute. Muggers, thieves, and worse lined these narrow streets between the ramshackle buildings. And all, to one…

Got rather rapidly out of your way as the man in full plate and Sunite tabard charged down their roads. Buildings blur as you sprint by them, doors slam shut, windows shutter. Whether they mistake you for a particularly daring member of the Flaming Fist, or a madman, you didn't particularly care. The realm's denizens had a rather astute sense that getting in the way of a man sprinting in full plate was a poor decision.

One hundred and fifty yards, east.

You turn around a corner, passing a tavern. The scent of blood on the very edge of your sense, fresh, very fresh.

One hundred yards. East.

Yet more.

Fifty yards. She hasn't moved in some time now. East.

You come to a sliding stop just shy of an old, abandoned home. It's on the very edge of the district, it was nice, once. A two story house of stone and timber, the timber now rotted, the stone moss covered. The door was standing wide open, a plank that had been blocking it ripped away and lodged a foot or more into the dirt outside of it. You don't hesitate, the scent of blood was strong now, tickling your enhanced senses. And you step inside.

It was loved, once, whomever had lived in this home had loved it. Fine furniture, now long desiccated and dust covered, sat around. A table, some chairs, and a full kitchen filled with abandoned cookware. It was odd how everything had been left, especially in this part of town. But you don't take more than a moment to focus on it before you find your quarry. Isabella sat in the corner of the room, surrounded by dust and spiderwebs… covered in a fair amount of blood. More than she had been covered with by just the vampire, this was fresh…

It was from rats.

She was holding a rat in her hands, her teeth sunk into its neck, her eyes locked onto you.

"Isabella?"

She lowers the rat from her mouth, fangs dripping with blood. Her eyes widen, and she stands on unsteady feet. Still staring at you. Her hands hang limply at her side, her eyes locked onto your neck.

She takes a step forward, you take a step back. "Are you in there?"

Her mouth opens wider, revealing a second set of fangs on the bottom half, making four razor sharp fangs overall. You watch her, one of her hands reaches towards you, the other grip one of her breasts so tight you are surprised it doesn't pop. "B-Baeran… Blood… I need it."

You close the door, separating you both from the outside world and the light. Her eyes, red, glow in the darkness, still fixed upon you, still coming closer. "Isabella, it's going to be alright."

She stops, groans. Then screams and lunges.

—


View: https://youtu.be/MqHK6NBF3Dk?list=PLZK4FAIypUFGSQnqAi8m7BO-tQB8Srdvc&t=102

—

You barely have time to raise your arms before she has slammed into you, pressing you against the wall, hissing, her teeth snapping as her strength fights against your own as she fights her way towards your neck. Flash of white teeth in the darkness, red eyes, wide and manic. She's lost control.

And you were wondering why she had never once asked for blood, despite mentioning she wanted it!

Your foot kicks out, as gently as you can manage, buying space between the two of you. Only for Isabella to surge forward again, her fist narrowly missing your head and going straight through the stone wall. Allowing light to pour into the room and onto her. Her cloak is gone, discarded on the floor, and the vampiress leaps back, away from the light. Her hands splayed out at her sides, fingertips now claws.

"Isabell-"

She lunges again, knocking you off your feet. The sound of metal hitting wooden planking hits your ears as you crash against the ground. "Baeran." Isabella purrs. "I want you." Her hands grasp yours, attempting to pin them back against the ground. Her strength is immense, far more than Ignis showed you. You hold her in place regardless, staring into her face just inches away from your own. "We can make the most villainous children together." Isabella purrs. "Light and dark… just like mother."

You push forward, forcing the vampiress up. Then you throw her across the room. She lands on the wall, her feet placed against it, her body ignoring gravity. Then she snarls and lunges once more. You jerk to the side, but not quick enough. Her claws slash against your arm, digging deep scratches into the metal and cutting against the skin underneath. It's a light cut, but you bleed regardless. Isabella comes to a skipping stop just shy of the wall, her head turned upright, her mouth open wide, her nose twitching. Then she jerks it around, her eyes locked onto your arm.

"Isabella. That is enough." You say firmly.

"Enough?" Isabella asks. Then giggles drunkenly. "But you smell so delicious." A slight movement, a centimeter or less of her foot shifting. She charges.

And your blade slides free of its sheath. She was fast, she was strong. She would be more than a match for just about anyone in this city from how she was moving. But she had no strategy to her.

She streaked past, and the flat of your blade collided against her midsection. She stumbles, yelping in pain. And your blade continues downwards, slapping against the ground as she passes. Divine energy rushes out from the point of impact in a wave, and Isabella, already stumbling. Goes flying across the room to collide with the wall. With a loud thwack she hits it head first, then snarls, turns, and lunges. "Blood! Blood!"

She's down to only speaking one word now. You doubt that's an improvement. She lunges again, and your shield is raised. She collides with it, pressing against her, her hands shoving you, trying to push you back. But your feet remain steady.

Then you begin to walk. Your feet digging into the ground as you push her back, and back. She snarls and rages, her claws scraping against your shield. She's too far gone to try and move around it, or duck, or do anything of value. She sees an obstacle to her target, she wishes to destroy that obstacle. You shove, pressing her back against the wall, spirits emerge, angelic, ethereal, binding her in place against it, and you begin your prayer. She roars and rages, tearing at the shield, tearing at your arms, trying to get to you. You ignore the pain, you ignore the shouts, you ignore the desperation.

Then a minute passes, and you open your eyes.

"You will cease attacking me." Your words, powered by your belief in your oath. Hit her with the force of a warhammer. Her hands, raised towards you, go limp, and she lets out a choking sound before you remove the shield, letting her fall forward, and against you. Her eyes were still transfixed on you, not leaving you for even a second as the angelic guardians that had been holding her fade away. You hold her against you, "it's alright Isabella, it's alright." Vampires remained vampires, even in their world it seemed. Too long without blood… drove them a little craz-

She pushes you. Not harshly, but it's enough to force you down onto your ass with her in your lap facing you.

—


View: https://youtu.be/Rjbd52VV1dc?si=WrZ-tGloySoyp1u-

—

"P-p-please. Baeran. I need it." Isabella hisses as she rubs herself against you. Isabella was a small woman, thin, far, far from most women that had thrown themselves at you over the years. Though, unlike them. There was a desperation to this unparalleled since…

Since Ignis, honestly.

She molds herself against you, her hands digging into the gaps of your armor. Her eyes are cloudy, unfocused, her mouth is open, as she pants. "Please." She pulls herself back slightly, her dress was damaged. One pale breast was revealed, a small thing, less than a handful capped by a little pink nipple. The woman is a far cry from any of the women under your care, barring, maybe Fuyao. But unlike Fuyao, her skin was free of any blemish or mark, beyond that of the dirt kicked up by your fight. Yet, as she stares down at you, red eyes glinting in the light. She is beautiful. But then, she is always beautiful. She is very different, both in personality, and in looks, to just about anyone you have ever known.

"B-blood." Isabella groans, her crotch rubbing against your leather clad loins. It's… very distracting. But at the same time, you note her hands have retreated. Digging clear through the wood of this little shack, rooting them there. She's holding herself back, deliberately. All the while the rage is gone, replaced by clear, wanton lust. "Please… I need you… please… Can't I have it?" Isabella begs, in a tone unlike you had ever heard from her before. But gone was the aggression from her gaze, gone was that madness. She seemed to have some form of clarity, some semblance of understanding. But she was gone regardless, taken over by her instincts.

…

If you didn't want this to happen, you doubt you'd have any difficulty refusing her.

—

[] [Offer your neck]
This will likely escalate, but it is a sign of massive trust… and likely escalation, perhaps too soon?

[] [Offer your arm]
A sign of trust, and care.

[] [Refuse]
She can subsist without human blood, and regardless, she shouldn't have attacked you.