Rooftop Rampage

Darkness lends itself well to thievery.

That’s what Anders usually counted on. Not that it did him a whole lot of good now.

Leaping from rooftop to rooftop he evaded the dogged pursuit of the city guard, enforcers of law who seemed to have caught him in the middle of a pub crawl judging by the way they lurched blearily through the streets.

It’s not that Anders couldn’t lose them if he wanted to but he decided to throw them a little bone and lead them on a bit before disappearing. If nothing else the corpulent officer could use some exercise.

But this little farce was long due to end so Anders retreated deeper into the city and across steadily rising rooftops. The ramshackle arrangement of street and houses built in different eras left few alleyways that didn’t end in brick walls. Even if the guardsman were sober, they would have a hard time tracking him.

Anders leapt onto the roof of a particularly posh home that bordered Onion Square, referred to as such since it occupied the middle of the city and resembled the fat dewdrop shape of an onion. Even this late at night there were still a few people milling about, proper law abiding people no doubt. People like Anders and people much worse than Anders usually stuck to the shadows. It was probably for the best, crowded shadows were difficult to sneak through.

Slumping down behind a chimney, well protected from any wandering eyes should they have reason to scan the rooftops, he reached into his leather pouch, rummaged around a bit and retrieved the cause of all this running about.

A shamelessly gaudy amulet squatted in his hand, even in the darkness the precious metals and stones sparkled and shone with their own luminescence. While the materials were certainly of high quality, the design evoked visions of blind artificers and tasteless nobs who would wear any old geegaw so long as it looked expensive. And that was all you could really say about it, it was expensive and it sparkled.

“Magpie’s wet dream. Thing like this is just begging to be melted down.” said Anders with disdain.

“Oh,” purred a voice from nowhere. ”That’s not very nice.”

Anders bolted upright, quickly scanning his surroundings and readying a small dagger. It was more of a deterrent than a weapon, though the weight was reassuring. But there was nothing, just a pair of winged statues, the chimney he clung to, and the crenelated brickwork, which in a historical city would indicate a turbulent past, but in Morcova it was a tacky decoration put up by someone with far too much money.

“Who’s there?” said Anders, carefully.

There was a light clicking at his feet. He leaned down and retrieved a shield like object. It looked a lot like the shields the guardsman wore. In fact it looked a lot like the shield guardsman wore. Anders surveyed the roof again, now understandably unnerved. Someone was up here with him, someone who liked to play games.

Nothing out of the ordinary and nowhere for anyone to hide. There was only a stupid winged statue, the rusted tin chimney and ridiculous décor, same as all other buildings in this area. Still, something nagged at him, beating on the inside of his head. Something was different, wrong.

One statue.

Weren't there two statues before?

Something in Anders’ mind went click.

His legs bolted, dragging the rest of the frightened thief as quickly as they could. The buffeting of great wings emanated from somewhere in the darkness and clung to him like mortar. It was impossible to discern where it was coming from, as it seemed to echo from the rooftops and alleyways below.

He retraced his steps as best he could, if he was quick enough he could still get caught by the guardsman and get sent to a nice comfortable holding cell. A tiny cell and some bread and water sounded really good to him right now.

Rooftops stretched out before him, the assorted pipes and masonry like a freshly cleared forest, still littered with plenty of tripping hazards. Of course with a clear mind, one could easily navigate the synthetic stumps with little difficulty.

Anders’ mind was not clear, however, which became woefully evident when he ran full pelt into a brass pipe. The impact laid him out flat and gave the world a good spin as he lay concussed on the shingles.

The flapping was on top of him now and a shape materialized out of the darkness to accompany it. But Anders knew what he was dealing with the moment he noticed the statue was gone.

The figure of a beautiful, albeit bestial woman gently descended and perched on the offending piece of plumbing, giving him a pitying look through softly glowing red eyes. Stone wings folded behind her and a muscular tail, or whatever the masonic equivalent of muscles was, swayed in the night air.

“Anders Lendin?” said the statue.

“Umng.” mumbled Anders, still waiting for the world to stop so he could get off.

“You’re under arrest for theft.”

Now this was surprising and it sent his world view for another tumble. He thought it was going to knock him around a bit before violating him as all monsters tend to do. That was to sort of thing unmarked people expected in this city.

“You’re a guard?” muttered Anders, disbelievingly.

“Provisional constable,” she corrected him. “By the way that’s my badge in your hand there. Mind giving it back to me?”

He looked down to find his fingers white from tension. In his haste to flee, he had neglected to let go of the small bronze shield. Lines of thought in his mind tangled together to form a plan. With a strained grunt, he tossed the badge off the roof. It clattered down in the alleyways below. His captor glanced towards the direction he threw it while he jumped to his feet, attempting to run away while she was distracted.

Only to have the constable pounce on him before he could move.

She was deceptively heavy even for what amounted to an animate statue, pinning him to the ground with ease leaving little room for struggling. She looked irritated, glaring at him with glowing embers.

“That wasn’t very nice either.” She set a heavy claw onto his chest. “I’m rather found of my badge, I would like it if you wouldn’t throw it in away.”

“Badge.” he tried to chortle, but it was strained under the pressure of her talons. “So they’re making monsters guardsman now?” Sunrise was still quite a ways away but maybe if he could keep her talking she wouldn’t think of other ways to pass the time.

“Well, provisional guardsman, yes. It’s sort of a probationary system to see if we can be trusted with that sort of thing.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

“Pretty well, actually. I get paid a fraction of what full guardsman get, but it’s enough to hire someone to keep the pigeons off me.” She wrinkled her nose, something which Anders found oddly cute in spite of his current predicament. He cursed his mind for thinking odd things without his consent.

“That’s a big problem is it?” he continued.

“How would you like it if some animal perched on your head and shit all over your face while you slept?”

“Point taken.”

“But I think it’s this part of the job I enjoy the most.” She cracked a predatory smirk.

“Which part is that?” Anders struggled in vain against the vice like stone grip of his captor, he did not like that look.

“Oh you know,” said the statue, absently. “Apprehending criminals, doing ones duty to the city.” A talon rested below her mouth as though plumbing the depths of her recollection. “Ah yes, and the laws regarding the proper handling of criminals are deliciously vague.

“Deliciously?” squeaked Anders.

“I’m authorized to detain you . . .” she began, savoring the moment.

“For twenty,” a claw found its way to Anders’ trousers.

“Four,” a terse ripping noise filled the air.

“Hours.” She smiled a terribly friendly smile. There were fangs in it.

Anders, who deep down, knew his fate the second he laid himself out like a novice, could only squeak in response to his captor. “So I’m to be escorted to the local holding cell?” He hoped, trying to ignore his sudden and complete lack of intact underwear.

All the gargoyle did was smile the same predatory smile.

That didn’t bode well. But then nothing that happened to Anders today boded well and this was just par for the course.

“That’s it, right? I mean guardsman can’t just assault the criminals they bring in, that would be against the law.” Anders was grasping at straws.

“Oh undoubtedly so. But you see we gargoyles, we have a special way of subduing people and the laws around it have been . . . bent to better accommodate our services.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we’re going to have some fun.”

Damnit. That left one option.

“Fantastic! What’s your game? I’m a wizard at darts and I know a great pub a few rooftops over. My mates and I play for cash and I win most of the time so they’ve stopped inviting me recently. Do you gamble? Because I know where we could play some cards as well, do you know how to play cards? You should join me in a game of cards. I think you’d like that a lot it’s much nicer than anything you might have planned up here. I mean we’re on a rooftop that’s daft isn’t it? I mean who has fun on a rooftop there’s nothing you could-”

The gargoyle sealed his babbling lips with a stiff finger. “You like to talk don’t you?”

“It’s a great distractor,” he tried to say, but it came out more like a collection of “mmfs.”

She ignored him. Rather, she ignored the thinking part of him. Anders shuttered as warm breath made contact with his skin. Fingers eased off his lips, they had a much more pressing engagement. Peeling back the tattered remains of his clothing she began rubbing his member with coarse, cold fingertips. The sensation of her stony fingers was both arousing and painful as the digits were coarse and stiff. Stroking became mashing as her millstone-like grasp pinched his skin.

“Damnit,” screamed Anders. “Can’t you be a little more gentle?! Neither of us wants my dick ground into flour!”

The gargoyle looked at her fingers and frowned slightly. Realization dawned on her. “Oh, right how could I forget?” She lifted his arms, relying merely on the weight of her body to keep him from moving and with a giggle she made him grope her breasts.

They weren’t really breasts at all. They had the shape of breasts but they were completely featureless, no nipple or areola to speak of nor were they pliant in the least. Anders felt like a lecher in an art museum feeling up the racier statues. Nonetheless she kept rubbing his hands against her, the occasional moan escaping her ever-smirking lips.

After a few minutes of this, Anders, who had grown curious as to what purpose his hands were being used for, looked into the eyes of his captor. To his surprise he found the dull red glow that resided within them appeared to leaking. Tendrils of red slithered and flowed into a series of grooves that seemed to snake across her entire body. The light fell into patterns, tattoos carved into the stone of her body.

They were pleasure runes. Magic sigils utilized by most varieties of succubi in order to amplify sexual stimulation. Anders was no stranger to them nor was anyone else in this city, especially those who had themselves marked on a regular basis. Once the runes completely filled with the dull red glow the gargoyle let out a particularly loud moan and squeezed Ander’s fingers hard against her chest.

 To his shock, the stone of her chest fractured and split like an egg shell under the pressure. The cracks spread out across her body as bewilderingly thin shards of stone fell to her sides and over Ander’s prone form. The woman inhaled deeply while bringing her wings to lay flat against her back and with a mind splitting scream, she erupted into shards of rock and dust as her thin stone coating exploded outwards.

Anders spat out fragments of rock and dust that had found their way into his mouth while waiting for the dust to settle. Now straddling him was what appeared at first glance to be the gargoyle not moments before. However, her once craggy, pitted skin was replaced by immaculately smooth curves of gray flesh. Now save for small fragments of trapped rock, Anders was kneading two pleasingly soft mounds of flesh to the appreciative coos of his captor.

The gargoyle flipped and teased her hair, shaking out pebbles and dust. “Much better,” she cooed.

“Now,” said the gargoyle with naked anticipation. She leaned down and licked the dust off of Anders' chest with a burning wet too-long tongue.

“Let's have some real fun.”