Inside of Henry Lovell’s “On The Races,” devilkin make up the whole of less than two pages. Besides an illustration, only a few short paragraphs describe my newly inhabited fantasy race. 

 

Devilkin

Demonkin

 

(Diabolus, Daemonium, Teufel, Mogwai)

 

The variable hues of this nearhuman race is of the same purples, reds, and grays as that of the Oni, and the race is adorned with protruding horns from the hairline similarly ; but it greatly exceeds the Oni’s horns in size, extending about one hand span swept. This also differs in being furnished with a tipped, smooth, roundish, darkened point, which is black: in the Devilkin pupil color is conditional to skin hue. There is nothing peculiar in the structure of the horn, which is cranial bone. In the same manner of many other nearhuman race, the devilkin placed in the usual location are of long pointed ear.

 

It is the generally received opinion that the Devilkin is possessing height no greater or lesser than typical, musculature lesser or equal to that of most, with no particular forbearance to bodily stressors, inclement weather, lightness, or darkness ; but it somewhat prevails upon good sight in unideal conditions. In matter of magic the manners and uses are much the same in both kinds, but particularly possessed of spells. Of magic is the same avidity as that of the Elf, and possesses powerful dominion.

 

This nearhuman race is said to not be found in great numbers in known lands. They are, without purpose, common near Tyre: they are also met in city concentrations. The female, is of stature, and all aspects of build to the male, both voluptuous, but in the fashion do possess typical mammalian breasts. The Young do as many nearhuman races, not develop their features until several years, if consistent with their parentage. 

 

The Devilkin, for ages past, has been derided in works, as evil sin manifest ; commonly of hate or lust, and it continues at this day to be an accounted story from new arrivals that those facets are duly known. “ By this means their prejudice is secured, and they prove no pariah.” Bernhard says. 

 

It is found by experience that the Devilkin are possessing a suite of sensory in great excess to that of most. In these the Devilkin cannot be accounted a dullness, for they perceive a great slew of touch, smell and taste, and feel of themselves the most gratifications. Placed there, as they are the most inured to other’s somatosensory, olfactory and gustatory signals. Others have protracted that their sense is reproductively ! Strange as this may appear, there are who credit it : the author, however, does not scruple to hazard an opinion, that this over-stretched ability originates only in tale, or in idle unfounded hearsay stories ; as no one has yes been able to say, with certainty, to what extrasensitivity they might attain.

 

            

After pinching the bridge of my nose for a moment to groan at the multiple implications of the reading, I kick my feet a few times and settle back into the confines of my cozy library chair.

Keeping in mind that Henry wrote this hundreds of years ago, its accuracy is still suspect. That being said, parsing the chapter isn’t easy. After reading through it twice for good measure, there are a few obvious takeaways. Like his other descriptions on races, the amount of vague statements might just allow me to read into it however I wish to reach any sort of conclusion. Then again, the book clearly states that devilkin have few definite characteristics, which, yeah, I absolutely agree with.

The increased senses, for one, strike me as accurate. My sensitivity has been off the charts since I got here, so knowing I'm not crazy is nice at least. Every time Deirdre or Liv have set me off with a simple touch, it makes all the more sense if my body is actually hardwired to respond to that. The smell thing is interesting. I certainly have a vivid idea in my head of what, say, Deirdre and Liv both smell like, but I’d have that on Earth too, right? Or am I just reverse nose blind and used to only having this good a sense of smell now? Taste is about the same; do I need to quiz someone to gauge if we’re smelling and tasting the same things? 

How did Henry even study this sort of stuff to begin with? Or did other devilkin just volunteer these notions? 

The chapter sounds pretty accurate about magic, at least for me. Likewise, the physical descriptions are certainly grounded in reality. 

I can’t help but fiddle with my plush chair’s armrests while contemplating some of the more bizarre statements and whatever the hell Henry meant by them.

The text says devilkin aren’t common, and considering I’ve not seen any besides myself, that may be true. I have spotted dozens of each other fantasy race, but no other devilkins. The evidence backs up that claim. Henry says something about a place called Tyre and my kind being more common there. Frustratingly, he doesn’t explain why. Finding out where or what a Tyre is and reading up on it goes to priority one after this. 

In one of the sections, in reference to magic, it states that devilkin have high avidity and powerful dominion. Is that old-timey speak meaning I should have strong magic Spells? Because, for me at least, that would be wrong. My spells are as weak as they get in every way, but staying power. If that is supposed to make up for my noodle arms and wimpy constitution, then I’ve been screwed over.

Sighing, I stop putting off thinking about the worst part. If the connection wasn’t immediately clear two months ago when I checked myself over for obvious demon traits like a forked tail and cloven hooves. It is doubly so now. I may not be a stereotypical succubus or ferocious demon, but something about those influences really does relate to my race. 

Seeing as people in this world are more assigned a fitting demihuman race rather than naturally just growing to be like a fantasy race’s stereotypes, that would mean I am comfortable in a body that features these implications.

Because of course I would. 

Weak and helpless besides magic, voluptuous regardless of gender, supernaturally susceptible to taste, touch, and smell, and weirdly aware of other people’s “signals?”

Hurray…

On the bright side, I’m not saddled with any dubious succubus-like traits, be they for good or ill. Henry only vaguely speculated about my kind having some sort of extrasensory ability, possibly related to demihuman reproduction. Whatever that actually means, or if it's even true, is anyone's guess. 

All in all, it could be a lot worse. Still, it would have been a lot cooler to have super strength, speed, or literally anything besides 'magic and perception.’

 

***

 

Hunter’s Mark, I realize, after about an hour of searching doesn’t have any specific information about Tyre. It is a place, no prize for guessing. A city, as it turns out, and is located across the ocean in a kingdom called Idrissia. In Henry Lovell’s time, however, I think it actually would have been its own city state. Similar in size and presence to the city states nearby and not unlike Delcaster itself. As it stands, the place is apparently a hotbed of turmoil, having been conquered in recent memory. No further information indicates any kind of reason why there might be a higher-than-average amount of devilkin there. Unless devilkin are also hardwired for rebellion and dissention.

One place I do read about thought is the Kingdom of the Brasovs, which apparently is known for its high number of vampires. So the city of Tyre being a bit devilish isn’t actually that far-fetched. 

Any further research will have to wait because Liv comes around to fetch me for training. Time must have gotten away from me; noon having sneaked up before I knew it.

“Okay, fire it up, Evelyn,” Liv calls out, which is my queue to cast Synthesis during Deirdre and Liv’s first bout of the day. 

When my companions take off to engage each other in the mock duel, the influence of my spell is subtle but noticeable. Deirdre, as always, skims across the ground like she owes the floor money, barely touching it for more time than she must. The way she hops circles around Liv is both impressive and terrifying. Her above-human innate speed, combined with her own Mana channeling, on top of her active Ability Rapid Movement and my Spell means that no human on earth would have a chance against her in a sword fight.

Liv, however, is not a human on earth. Her Mana channeling, in addition to my Spell makes their bout another exciting whirlwind of clashing training weapons and impressive acrobatic displays of prowess.

I may not have any extraordinary feats to match theirs, but our party, on average, sure can move.

Synthesis, in addition to the burst of speed it provides, gets tested by the three of us to confirm that it does indeed generally boost a person’s energy output. I suppose Quicken, or Haste, would be an appropriate name for it as well. If I can get my hands on a chemist, maybe they can explain why it feels more conceptually like it should be named Synthesis. 

With four Spells to juggle now, cycling Recovery and Aegis during hunts may no longer be the optimal move. If the whole developing new Spells thing continues, then I may need to have some serious thinking about the trade-off between what Spells to keep active.

Training today doesn’t repeat any of yesterday’s shenanigans. Instead, our drills are as sweaty and tiring as always, with no sexy interludes. I don’t tell Liv or Deirdre the interesting news I found in the library. Saving the embarrassing revelations for dinner conversation rather than trying to huff out information about devilkin while getting my ass kicked.

 

***

 

The sight that greets us upon arrival at our inn is most welcome. A stout, dwarven woman tending to the establishment's bottom floor flashes us a smile as she fishes out an envelope from her pocket and waves it our way.

The message, she informs us, came while we were away. Wax sealed, the envelope is embossed with a wagon wheel and a merchant's scale design stamp. The letter inside is short and to the point. Our appointment, it states, unfortunately can’t be moved up any, but Andrea Garnier, the actual company owner, will be there. The medium-sized Monster parts we provided appraised well, and Tack and Trade is interested in discussing a deal to acquire a steady stream of such parts.

“Not bad,” I say to our group once we’re upstairs and finished deciphering.

“Hardly. It means we’re still stuck here a whole other day.” Deirdre replies.

With hours to spare before sundown and quite the appetite after a day's hard work, our plan is to make ourselves presentable and search Delcaster for something to eat. 

Getting to work, we split the tasks needed to switch from our dirty training outfits to our less dirty, or in Deirdre’s case, sparkling clean, evening wear.

After waiting my turn to use a bucket of lukewarm water as our soap receptacle for a simple scrub down, something Liv referred to the other day as a ‘whore bath’ while singing a little ditty that had the lyrics ‘pits, tits, and naughty bits,’ I empty and refill the whole contraption before trading off with Deirdre. 

As she starts up her scrub down, I then decide to break the ice on my discoveries. Not sharing these sorts of things would be silly, and if there is anyone I can trust to help me reflect upon the book’s suggestions, it’s my girlfriends. 

“Hunter’s Mark had a lot of great stuff in their library,” I explain. “Found a whole book with information about each demihuman race.”

The glances I get from my companions are perfunctory at best, but Liv at least gives a hum in acknowledgement.

“Anything interesting?” She asks while sorting through her pack. “Can’t be more boring than the local news around here. It’s all politics and guild drama.”

“Only that it had a section about my devilish traits.” I admit, bordering on a nervous laugh. 

“Reeeeeeeally. Do Tell.” Liv sings songs, suddenly moving to stand much closer and with a grin splashed across her face like a shark.

By the roguish tilt of her head and the cant of her hip, I already know she is going to tease me about whatever I say. Deirdre, now diligently scrubbing her elbows with a loofah sponge, laughs softly at my obvious misfortune. 

My wolven girlfriend won’t deter me with her cheeky threats. This is really only sharing pertinent information about myself, so I can hardly be blamed if the subject matter involves a few risqué aspects.

“Some obvious things, like that devilkin tend to have magical Spells rather than Abilities,” I mumble, feeling suddenly more shy about revealing things that, in a more sane world, ought to be kept private. 

Liv only leans in closer with rapt attention. The sound of Deirdre haphazardly washing up inexplicably now sounds so loud in our otherwise quiet room.

“And?” Liv asks, and with her toothy grin still on display. 

“A few other things... but you have to promise not to laugh.” I stammer, warm embarrassment growing on my cheeks.

Liv immediately chuckles, so I stumble through a quick list of embarrassing devilish traits just to get this conversation over and done with, like ripping off a bandaid. 

“So devilkin perhaps have a few scandalous things going on, like perception that is extra sensitive to the touch, taste, and smells of others, and we also maybe harbor some unexplained orthodox sin sense.” I blurt.

My party mates don’t take long to hear me out on the latest and greatest gossip about my kind before pouncing like hyenas. 

“Sensitive to being touched? You don’t say?” Deirdre pipes up from halfway across the room. “Are you positive that's a devilkin thing and not an Evelyn thing?” she replies, a smirk evident in her tone.

“What’s a sin sense? And does it have anything to do with your tongue?” Liv teases, playfully waggling her tongue in my direction as I cover my face with my hands.

"Look, I don’t know. It was written by some ancient guy, and for all I know, it was made up, but he said my kind had weird stuff going on, so I figured I’d at least tell you both.” My words are rushed and muffled. All the while, I stay behind the safe veil of my fingers and block out the sight of both Deirdre and Liv in an effort to spare myself their continued vexations.

Liv laughs a little more before giving me a reassuring pat and phrasing her words to be more gentle and kind.

“Hey, it's totally normal, really. I thought my freaky good hearing was weird at first, but I got used to it almost right away. Whatever you got going on, it can’t be all that strange,” says Liv softly.

It definitely doesn’t sound all that normal to me. Several demihumans apparently have strange anatomy, traits, or abilities, but nobody else has attributes that are perilously close to sexual. 

Biting my lip, I plod along, caught in the moment and not wanting to have to feel embarrassed to bring this subject up again later.

“I sort of wanted to try a few things. Will you two help me during dinner by doing a taste test between the three of us?” I ask.

Determining if I have supernatural flavor detection is at least not outright mad. It could even be a really cool and nifty way to have better food and drink than everyone else. Or possibly, I’m more sensitive to bad-tasting food and drinks. Is that why Vivianne’s baked goods seemed so awful to me? Or did everyone else suffer my same fate? 

Liv and Deirdre, in sequence, both agree to play guinea pig later on. After an eon of waiting for our halfling girlfriend to finish clearing up, the three of us head downstairs and out into the busy streets in search of a suitable spot to fill up and put my tastebuds to the test.