Bootilina, a succubus down on her luck

Bootilina huffed and wheezed as she walked up the road towards Merridan.

Sweat poured down her face and collected in the folds of her ragged clothing, leaving her feeling clammy and gross.

"It can't be too much farther... right?" She asked herself as she wiped the accumulated sweat away from her face yet again.

Bootilina was a succubus, but not a particularly impressive one. At least not any more.

She was fat and frumpy, with frizzy, messy mouse-brown hair that only came down to her ears. Her belly was big, her boobs were unimpressive, and her butt was too large (at least that was the common complaint voiced against it). Enormous, thick, coke bottle glasses perched atop her big, Roman nose.

Years ago she had been one of the Demon Lord's most feared and respected commanders (at least that's how she remembered things). Friend and foe alike had trembled at the mere mention of her name. And her looks! They used to say just glancing at her beauty was enough to corrupt one of Geod's paladins. But frankly, that was all just a distant memory.

She had once been a statuesque beauty, with enormous, impossibly perky breasts, a taught, toned belly, curvy hips, and an ass you could stack gold coins on.

Now she looked like a heifer the cruel frat boys would invite to the party as a joke (which she did occasionally do actually. Although highly demeaning, it did give Bootilina a steady supply of energy to drain).

All because of a series of... setbacks Bootilina had suffered over her career. The first and biggest of which had probably been the costliest to her too.

The succubus sighed to herself.

"Stupid imp!" She cursed aloud to no one in particular. "I would have won if not for you!"

Promotions and rank within the Demon Lord's army had always been based upon the strong preying on the weak - like draining away the power of your foes and rivals to make yourself stronger and then lording it over them.

But if you made a mistake and underestimated your opponent, you could be in for a real bad time. They might suck away some of your magical energy, or swap some less-attractive feature of their body out with something more desirable from you. Worse still, one failure tended to breed more, and it was very easy to get into a downward spiral, constantly being preyed upon by those you once bossed around as you lost more and more of what made you great.

And Bootilina had lost a lot since her golden days.

Now, the former general was little more than a courier, tasked with delivering useful, but non-essential information to those ranked higher than her (important stuff was a job for better, stronger, more important demons).

Today's task? Deliver a message to Isolt, the Lord Herald. That is, if she could get to Merridan in one piece...