She had always wanted to visit this city, and now Lilith had the perfect excuse.  Her lord had entered an alliance of sorts with The Siren, and the demoness had offered to travel a bit to keep an eye on the proceedings.  And Sularia had fallen to lust, which amused Lilith greatly.  She wasn't participating as much as the succubi and incubi, but Lilith was still having her fun.  The last man she had coupled with lay dying in a filthy opium den, his brain too scrambled to take the few steps it would require to save himself.  And he was far from the only one.  There were men and women laying in the streets, some barely conscious and others still trying to drag themselves somewhere safe.  Or to their next encounter.

Lilith paused next to a woman leaning against a wall.  The flushed cheeks and labored breathing indicated that she had just finished one encounter, but her darting eyes indicated she was already looking for the next.  Lilith smiled, there was something that the woman wouldn't be able to see until she looked in a mirror.  "My dear, you look tired.  Let me help with that," she said, gently caressing the woman's face.  The mortal's eyes widened for a moment and she started to pull away, but Lilith gripped her shoulders and forced a kiss on her.  When the woman's eyes opened again, they were black as sin.

The demoness grinned as the woman set off into the city again, filled with energy.  She watched as the woman grabbed the first available male and dragged him off.  This would be a good day.

Sularia, at long last. It had been many months since he had set out from Adeluna, tasked to help guard a merchant caravan as it wound its way north across the continent. They had crossed over hills and valleys, mountains and glens, forests and bogs. Often did they stop along the way to trade with the locals. He had seen many strange lands and wondrous things on this journey, and many more besides back in Dae Luin his home, but all the same Sularia was an impressive sight. It's great walls and grand castle loomed over them, all of white stone glinting in the sunlight. Aqueducts rose from the ground, feeding bathhouses and fountains. It was a beautiful city, on a verdant oasis, and a welcome sight after crossing the harsh hot desert behind them.

Simon marched down the street alongside a wagon, peering this way and that as they made their way down the cobblestone boulevard. Where once that Count of Montefort had been dressed in fine white-enameled plate he now wore a tunic and cloak of brown roughspun. When once he'd worn a magical mirror shield and a holy comet mace he now carried a simple kite shield and broadsword across his back. Where once he'd been mounted with lance in hand he now walked in his own two boots. The once-mighty nobleman was now no better than a common man-at-arms, much to his chagrin. But Simon had been saving his cut from every stop along the way, and by the time they returned to Adeluna he was confident he'd be able to purchase a proper warhorse and armor. Then he'd be a Knight again in truth, and could ride in tourneys and seek out the patronage of a lord.

But until then he needed to keep this wagon train safe, he reminded himself. Pushing his aspirations aside, the Count focused on what lay around him. The Caravan pulled to a stop before a large stone building, and the pinchfaced Captain strode inside. He would be in the custom house for some time, Simon knew, haggling over duty fees, warehousing for his goods, and a spot at market. Until then they would be waiting here on the side of the road. While it was certainly safer here than out in the wilderness, it was still an exposed position and that put Simon on edge. He almost jumped when he felt a hand grab his shoulder. 

He turned to find another of the guards beside him. Walton Steelshanks, he was called, for the steel greaves he wore. "Look at that," he said, pointing toward the other side of the road. Following his finger, Simon spied two women kissing up against a wall. "Whew!" Steelshanks exclaimed. Another guard laughed and whistled. One of the women ran off. At first Simon thought she was embarrassed, until he saw her pull a man into a nearby alley. Steelshanks laughed, and Simon shook his head. "The people here are quite promiscuous, aren't they?"

"Nothing wrong with that!" said Mortley, the guard who had whistled. 

"Yeah, I can't wait until my shift ends tonight!" said another with a laugh.

Simon rolled his eyes. "Sellsword…" he sighed.

A pair of men were staring, and Lilith knew it likely wouldn't be long until they too were affected by the chaos.  Natives seemed to be affected first, but they spread it quickly like a virus.  Adjusting the sari from Abed that had become her favored garment, she decided to introduce herself.  And it was just more fun to speed up the process of getting people to join in the fun.  Sauntering up to the man who had whistled at them, Lilith said "Didn't your mother teach that it's quite rude to stare?", arms crossed across her chest.  The man just stared at her for a moment, taking in her form and trying to formulate words.  It was entertaining to Lilith to watch someone try and get their brain into gear again.  "Nevermind.  You should join in the fun.  What's your name?  I'm Lilith," she said.  "M-m-mortley.  I'm Mortley," he stammered.  There were more things on his mind, but Lilith didn't give him a chance.

Pulling him in close, she hissed a few words into his ear.  "You shouldn't catcall either.  Not all us cats enjoy that," she growled, and kissed him deeply, leaving no room for argument.  She could feel the ring on her finger flaring with heat, drawing out the man's soul.  It would leave his body, but leave him functional, and he would spread the chaos even further.  When she released Mortley, his eyes had shifted to black.  She didn't know, or really care, if the others had seen what happened to him.  But she turned her eyes to the other men.  One seemed a bit standoffish compared to the others, he would be entertaining.  "How about you?  What's your name?" she asked, sauntering up to the man who bore only a kite shield and broadsword.   Others were approaching the guarded caravan, eying the others and beginning to choose targets.  The new arrivals were about to be dragged into the chaos, whether they were ready or not.

Simon watched as the other woman approached Mortley, the crimson and black silk of her revealing sari shifting as she sauntered over. She stepped in close to the surprised guardsmen, who by the way he stiffened and stammered obviously wasn't used to his catcalls being so effective. Whispering something in his ear, she turned and kissed him deeply. A couple of nearby guards jeered, and Simon averted his eyes. What kind of place is this? Is there no decency here? Simon didn't think he liked Sularia. 

"Eyes wide, boys, it seems we've drawn some attention!" called another guard. Looking around, Simon caught a number of townsfolk nearing the caravan, sizing them up like prey. Do they mean us harm? Studying a nearby man, his hair stood up on end. His eyes, they're pitch black, like dark pools… "Something's wrong here," Simon called to his compatriots, "Look at their eyes, some fell magic is at work here. Be ready."

Simon's ears pricked as someone called out to him. He turned to find the woman in the sari approaching him. Her eyes burned red under her raven locks. The sight sent a shiver up Simon's spine. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed Mortley regarding them strangely, with eyes black as coal. 

The Knight lifted his kite shield and drew his broadsword. "Stay back, my lady. Steer clear of this caravan." He raised his voice so everyone could hear. "I wish you no ill will, but if you touch another of us or our property I will slay you where you stand. That goes for everyone else, too!" The other nearby guards were following his lead, and looked ready to fight, although others did not seem to be taking this seriously at all. Can't they see that something is very wrong? That was the problem with sellswords: they never took anything seriously. 

Simon watched the scantily-clad woman warily, waiting for her next move. She would find him much harder to seduce than poor Mortley. He was an anointed knight, and had no interest in women of ill repute. And after looking into Mortley's eyes he determined that he would be letting her nowhere near him now. Please, just go away. I do not want to have to hurt you…

There was a hint of surprise in her eyes as some of the guards managed to pay enough attention to the situation to realize the danger they were in.  But Lilith had to mentally applaud them as well, strong wills made for more of a challenge.  "Oh, you're quick to figure things out.  Fell magic, very good.  Now, can you guess just what is happening?" she asked, her voice shifting to a tone of pure confidence.  Lilith knew, of course.  It was her job to know, and to encourage what was already happening in Sularia.  But she wanted to see just how smart this man was.  They tended to be more of a challenge, especially compared to the sellswords around him.  She was getting the sense from how he spoke and carried himself there was much more than appearances let on.

Then the guard she had kissed joined in the mob, trying to decide who he was going to lavish affections on.  "They do not want your property.  Rest easy, that will be unharmed.  But why not relax a little?  You are in Sularia after all, and the people here are well known for their expertise in many different areas.  You look like you could use a massage and a drink.  Why don't I show you where to go?" Lilith asked, putting out a hand in invitation.  Some of the sellswords were still eying the locals warily, others looked tempted.  It was a tense situation, but Lilith was enjoying herself.  All it would take was one little spark…

And one of the sellswords provided the spark.  He seemed to take it as a challenge, stepping forward to grab a Sularian by the arm to shove her back.  But she was much faster than he could have anticipated.  She latched onto him, pulling him down to the street and forcing her attention on him.  Some of the sellswords froze, suddenly seeming to realize just how dangerous the situation was getting.  They were outnumbered, and Lilith was waiting for her opportunity to get at the man who stood out from the group.

Simon eyed the wench warily. He'd seen what unholy magic could do to people, and he wanted no part of it. The knight shook his head in reply to the woman's mocking query. "I do not know. Possession, perhaps, judging by their eyes. Or a charm." Simon stared hard at the woman: her red eyes, and the shining ring on her finger. "If I had to wager on it," Simon said in a deadly voice, "I'd bet you had some hand in it." He punctuated the remark by lifting his sword at her. Whatever she is, she's not human. Goosepricks ran down his neck at the thought.

She continued on, unabated, now attempting to tempt him with the comforts of the city. Her tone, however, implied much more. She raised her hand to him, but Simon only stepped back and kept his eyes on her. "No thank you, I will not abandon my post, nor trust myself to you wench." I'm not going anywhere. He may be scared, but he would not let the guardsmen fail. Too much was riding on this mission for him to let things fall apart now. Without this money he would never be able to climb back into the ranks of the nobility and leave the life of a sellsword behind him. This woman stood in the way of that. 

He was contemplating rushing her when one of the other guardsmen suddenly stepped forward to push another woman away from the caravan. She had been prowling closer for some time now. With speed one never would have expected, the woman twisted and got a hold of the guard, pulling him down to the ground. "NO!" Simon shouted, rushing toward them. He swiped with his broadsword, cutting the woman's arm to the bone. With a scream she rolled away. Simon knelt and offered a hand to his fallen comrade, but when he stood and turned toward Simon his eyes were black as night. He tried to pull him close, and Simon was forced to knock him over the head with the pommel of his sword. "That's enough!" He screamed, righteous fury washing over him like breakers in a stormy bay. 

Standing still, he murmured words in a queer tongue. Under his clothing his muscles seemed to bulge, his body filling with strength and agility. When he raised his broadsword, it was limned with a white, holy light. The white knight's eyes shone bright blue. They turned on the demon woman, meeting her red ones. 

"It's time to clean these streets," he called out, and charged.

She nodded at his guess, it was smart enough.  "Not quite right.  And I will not be telling you what you got wrong.  There's no fun for me in that," she said with a chuckle.  Everyone was on edge, and Lilith was highly amused at the terse note in the man's voice.  The chuckle became a full out laugh when he suggested she had something to do with this whole situation.  "Oh no, not I.  This is far beyond what I am capable of doing.  But the ones I serve, this is their doing.  The Siren and the King of Nightfall, they are the ones you seek," she explained.  It would be entertaining to see just how he would react to knowing that some of the gods of the land were behind the events.  And Lilith also wanted to see just what he would do, if he was one of the faithful or the godless.

The cruel grin returned to her face when he refused the offer, most would be too tempted to resist.  And it marked him as better than the sellswords around him, which intrigued Lilith.  Just what was he doing here?  This type of work, given his speech and bearing, seemed so far beneath him.  Perhaps that was the angle she needed to go for…  "So you see yourself above base human instincts, hmm?  I see.  Admirable, really.  Most have quite the different time resisting the temptations of this place," Lilith said, her voice shifting to a tone of contemplation.  While she had him distracted with words, one of the soulless made her move.

What Lilith didn't expect was for the man to have his own magic.  Now that was truly interesting.  She knew a number of languages, but she couldn't guess at what he spoke.  She did know that light coming from him made her hair stand on end, and it was not a pleasant feeling.  And then he charge.  "Valiant fool," she thought, then waved a hand in an almost lazy gesture.  The first incantation she had learned was still one of the most useful.  A number of ghostly felines sprang from the shadows, three prowled around Lilith, while the rest moved forward to intercept the man.  "I'm more a lover than a fighter.  Thankfully, I have friends," she said, moving a hand behind her back.  If he got too close, she still had an unpleasant surprise ready.

Simon didn't hear her words, but he noticed the large cats cluster around her from seemingly out of nowhere, just before a dark shape jumped out of the corner of his eye and bowled him over. His right shoulder hit the cobblestones hard, sending tendrils of pain up his neck. The knight clenched his teeth as the beast tore at the edges of his shield with tooth and claw. It was all he could do to keep a hold of his shield as he tried to reposition to bring his sword arm to bear. At last, he managed to roll left and thrust his sword up into the beast's breast. The conjured creature let out a screeching yowl as it dissipated into a fine mist. Simon winced as yet more claws scrabbled along his shoulder pauldron and tore into the flesh of his sword arm below. Rolling away from the creature, he came up to his feet sword and shield upraised, watching the new cat's every move.

He let out a pained yelp as more claws raked across his back. Simon spun with a backhanded swing, catching the beast in the snout and sending it reeling. Bouncing back the other way, he caught the first with a shield bash as it leaped in for the kill. The knight continued like that for a moment, spinning and slashing, trading off between shield and sword with each of the cats until they were no more than clouds of mist surrounding him. 

As the mist cleared Simon looked around. It seemed many of his fellow guardsmen had taken his queue, engaging with the possessed people pressing in all around them. Others were sauntering off, women held in their arms, and a few were even engaging their own comrades with the mob. This is chaos, the nobleman thought, I have to end it. Looking about, he sighted his original target and the three cats still guarding her. She eyed him warily, one hand behind her back. Is she worried? Simon wondered, flashing her a grim smile, she should be. 

"Sunburst!" he cried, pointing his sword at her. Some of the sword's white radiance bunched into a ball at its tip, just before arcing out at the woman. Just before hitting her it exploded in a blast of blinding light. Simon rushed in behind, hot on the blast's heels. The dazzling spell was a favorite of his before a charge. The blinding light would often stun and dizzy his foes. Some retched, lost control of their bladder or bowels, or even fainted straightaway. He was not sure how it would affect the demoness and her conjured creatures, if at all, but it might be his only chance. He wasn't sure he could take on three big cats all at once.

Instead he rushed past them, focused only on the fell woman's red eyes. His sword was held before him as if a lance in a battlefield charge. "MONTEFORT!!!" the old battle cry sprouted from his lips unbidden, as natural to him as breathing, as he thrust toward the woman's vile heart.

The streets were turning into chaos, and it was glorious.  The cats were the perfect distraction, and it allowed Lilith to study the man's fighting style from a distance.  He was no sellsword, that much was obvious.  A disgraced knight, perhaps?  It was an answer to find out at a later time, Lilith knew the situation was about to change.  The spectral cats had the desired effect, distracting him while the weaker willed men were enticed off into the mob.  Some still stood and fought, but they were becoming outnumbered.  Then the blast of sunlight came from nowhere, and it made her growl.  The spell was painful to her eyes, and distracting to all those around them both.  But Lilith was old, and she had learned to use her other senses to compensate.

The sound of footsteps rushing towards her gave Lilith an idea of what the fool's plan was, and she waited until he was close before diving to the side.  One of the cats dove into where she had been to keep the knight distracted for a few vital seconds.  Blinking quickly several times, her eyes regained their focus.  As she rolled and came up in a crouch, Lilith's hand snapped out with the rose whip she had been hiding behind her.  The whip had become a favorite weapon of hers, easily concealed and quite deceptive.  It snapped through the air and grabbed the knight's ankle, and Lilith yanked hard.  He tumbled to the ground, and the two remaining cats bounded to her side as Lilith pulled herself back to her feet.  She wanted to keep him at a distance, at least until she figured out if it was better to keep fighting or to run.

"Montefort?  Not a name I'm familiar with.  A knight I believe you to be, am I right?" Lilith called out.  More distraction, more appeals to his pride.  More time bought.  She was curious to see his next move.

Everything happened in a flash. One instant she was there, eyes wide before his approaching sword. The next instant it was plunging into a shadowy feline, its yowl ringing in his ears as it turned to mist around him. Then suddenly there was a jerk in his leg, and he was tumbling headlong back to the cobblestones. His head cracked against the hard rode and for a moment his head swam with stars. Slowly, while catching his breath, he pulled himself up to knees and elbows. Shakily he regained his feet, and pointed his sword at the wench. Again she was talking.

"I am Count Simon de Montefort, the White Knight of the South. The was ill done, wench. I shall have your name before I smite you." All around them guards jostled with townsfolk. The scene would soon devolve into utter chaos if Simon did not quickly regain control of the situation. He rushed in again, but this time he did not just charge in a straight line. The Knight stutter-stepped, sidestepped, and darted back in at an angle. At the last minute he repositioned a cut that looked like it was going for the demon girl, anticipating the jump of a cat and meeting its head instead. The blade clove through its face and with a cry the beast disappeared in a puff of smoke. 

Spinning, Simon bashed at the second cat with the shield. Keep her on her toes, he thought as he danced about, be difficult to anticipate. First finish the cats, then her. That whip would be far more manageable once it was the only thing he had to worry over.