A Temptation Too Far

Jormuden exhaled, hard, as he pulled his blade from the torso of yet another flailing demonspawn, the creature's four arms spasming as though looking for another body to slice with its claws. Battle raged all around him as the Fifth Regiment held the town of Evkala against a seemingly unending force of demons. Jormuden stepped forward, his swordsmanship deft, finding the throat of yet another demonspawn, this one's scales a deep amber color. To his sides were members of the town militia, struggling with their spears against another. The militia group with Jormuden numbered near a dozen now, far less than the thirty or so that had been with him hours ago, their ruined bodies littering the street ahead where the combat had started.

Initially, Jormuden had been able to heal the wounds of his comrades, but weariness down the bone threatened even his ability to stand, let alone channel the will of Selane. He kept another cluster of demonspawn at bay for another moment until the former farmers behind him finally finished their combat, turning to join him. With their assistance, the group quickly dispatched the remaining demonspawn, losing yet another to a tail swipe that crushed the young man's throat. Jormuden knelt at his side, struggling to even remember the lad's name. Trynn, he remembered after a pause. He murmured a quick prayer, closing the young man's eyes. Strange he thought of Trynn as young, only being a few years his senior.

It took great effort to rise back to his feet as Jormuden assessed the situation, ash falling from the sky as fires consumed the outlying parts of the town. Already, it seemed, the demons had started their fun. In his heart, Jormuden knew the fate of every man still left in this town. It was only a matter of time, and it was unlikely that the real battle would finish within the day. Still, buying time for the rest of the towns nearby to evacuate was no small honor to die for. His breathing was ragged, Jormuden recognized he was at the limit of his exhaustion. Fighting continuously for hours against a foe stronger and faster than you, preceded by days of harrying and skirmishes.

Things were grim, to be sure. Jormuden grit his teeth and turned towards the others. The hardly trained recruits didn't have the benefits of years upon years of schooling and even combat, and it showed. Their faces were haggard, soot, dirt, and blood covering every part of them. They sat against the houses at the side of the street, staring into nothing. Jormuden hesitated, wanting to move on and regroup as soon as possible, but they could surely take a minute to breathe, something of which he could use as well.

Leaned up against a column of a tavern, The Winking Weasel, a signpost read, Jormuden almost missed the change in the air around him. He could almost hear Old Man Haalvan's reprimand for having missed it the first time.

"Everyone, form up behind me. Something's coming," Jormuden ordered as he took a simple fighting stance in the middle of the street, facing North.

It only took another, more emphatic, repetition of his order before the men, boys, really, fanned out behind him, clutching their spears, their eyes determined. This was their home, and it was a look that Jormuden was all too familiar with. Up ahead, the street split into a T-Junction, and a red glow was slowly filling it up, casting warped shadows off of the buildings and piled corpses.

The men around him gasped as the source of the glow rounded the corner. A small pit of despair in Jormuden's stomach appeared as he recognized what he saw. Towering above the swarm of demonspawn around it was the vague resemblance of a man, his veins pulsing with a fiery glow. Large bat-like wings clung to the demon's back, and in one ridiculously muscled arm was clutched a blade of pure flame.

"Blast it all," Jormuden muttered. He hadn't figured his time to die had come so soon, but it would be a worthy one. His voice pitched up to a yell as he drew Ciaelbriel from its sheath.

"Run! Run to the city center and meet up with whoever remains!"

The men around him hesitated, glancing at the now faintly glowing blade he held, and Jormuden practically screamed at them.

"GO, NOW!"

They didn't need any further convincing, scattering away into the amber-lit night.

The demon's laughter, closer to the sound of crunching gravel, could be heard even from hundreds of paces away. The demonspawn halted abruptly, as a towering figure strode ahead of them. Jormuden collected himself. Even if he were refreshed and at his best, this fight would have been impossible. Nothing is impossible with the guidance of Selane, he heard Old Man Haalvan's recitation echo in his head. At the very least he'd take this larger demon out with him.

Jormuden felt the air grow warmer as the infernal behemoth approached, the late autumn frigidity giving way to a balmy summer haze. He crinkled his nose at the stench of sulfur, but stood fast, his sword ready to strike.

The demon's approach thundered through the street, shaking the ground beneath heavy obsidian booted feet. The air began to shimmer the closer it drew, and Jormuden could feel the aura of dread unique to demons of its type begin to grow in his stomach. Licking his lips he gripped his blade more tightly, as if to reassure himself that he was indeed still armed.

Drawing to a stop, the demon taunted:

"How graciously noble of you, paladin," the last word a hiss,"... and for what? So they can join their brothers in our cookpots some other day?"

Another rumbling chuckle.

"No matter. My lord has plans for you," the fiery blade swung, pointing right at Jormuden.

"At least make it interesting. All your brothers fell whimpering without a fight."

As soon as it was done speaking, the demon left no time for Jormuden to recenter himself, immediately springing forth with a speed that defied the creature's stature. The onslaught of swinging pressed Jormuden back, barely deflecting the searing blade from taking a limb on multiple occasions. Gritting his teeth, Jormuden tried to settle into the flow of combat, but found the clawing sensation of fear too distracting.

As the clashing blades continued, Jormuden accumulated small cuts where he had been only just too slow, only just not strong enough to turn the demon's blade aside. For all his effort, Jormuden hadn't even been able to get close to attempting to attack the demon, focused solely on surviving. A particularly nasty side-stroke from the demon made his bones creak as Jormuden brought his blade up to block the attack, all throughout the demon's grin only growing.

"Yes, yes! Doesn't it feel so invigorating," the demon marked its sentence with another deft swing of the blade, "don't you feel so alive? Fighting at the edge of your capabilities, clawing for life even in the face of unstoppable defeat?"

Jormuden's muscles ached, protesting at each step he took. It had already been a long night, and now he was fighting harder than he had ever before. Even with all of his training, all his skill, he knew that he was only human. Jormuden could feel himself tiring out, his counter swings getting slower, his footsteps faltering. In his darkest hour, Jormuden could even feel the light waning within him, the blessings conferred upon Selane's greatest warriors sputtering out like a candle at the end of its wick.

Still, the demon continued to toy with him, slowing its attacks in equal proportion, but still ever so slightly faster, stronger than him. Another strike earned Jormuden his third chest wound, another trail of blood joining the others trickling down his body.

The fight continued until positively everything burned. Jormuden was wheezing for breath, his lungs protesting the very movement, his legs felt as though they would shatter at the slightest touch, and he could barely lift his sword off of the ground.

Abruptly the demon stopped, its jagged teeth forming into a sneer.

"Give up. You've lost, just as the rest of your kind will."

His chest heaving, Jormuden drew up another breath, then simply spit at the demon's feet.

"Back... to the..."

Raising his sword for a final time he lunged forward, his knees buckling as he stepped.

"... Abyss with you."

The demon chuckled, dropping the pretense of matching Jormuden's level. The last thing he saw was the creature's massive fist slamming into his face.

~~~

Soft warmth coaxed Jormuden back into consciousness. He opened his eyes, but saw nothing. Groggily, he tried moving but found his arms and legs bound fast, chains clinking against stone as he strained. Giving up for the moment, he turned his focus towards what senses he could use. The air was dry and slightly warm, almost pleasant, and a faint sharp smell of spices. The smell reminded him of strange tree bark he had seen at a bazaar as a recruit. Wherever he was was quiet with only the distant sound of wind, as though through a window or door.

Jormuden quickly worked to control his breathing. Surprisingly, he noticed that he didn't feel much pain despite the last thing he remembered being soundly beaten after days of combat. If anything he felt well-rested and full of energy, a feeling he hadn't had in quite the long time now that he thought of it.

It felt like hours passed, with no measure of time, before Jormuden heard something. Footsteps, and approaching. Soft-soled boots against stone, and light-footed. They paused, and a door quietly creaked open, washing the room in hot and humid air, the spice smell becoming stronger. The door closed softly, and Jormuden's ears strained to hear what was going on. A single person had entered the room, he surmised, but what was to happen? The demon's words echoed in his head, and he shuddered at the thoughts that passed through his mind.

The footsteps drew near to where he was bound, and Jormuden steeled himself. Through his faith and through his strength, he would be able to endure whatever schemes or torture the enemy envisioned for him.

He flinched as soft fingers caressed his shoulder where the demon's sword had pierced Jormuden's shoulder, a woman's honeyed voice breathing warmly in his ear.

"Mmmh... I'm sorry pet, looks like Raz got a bit overzealous again."

A strange cool feeling spread along the path of the scar, the sensation of both being numb from cold and warmth of a fire. Just as soon as her fingers left Jormuden's shoulder the feeling subsided, leaving only pins and needles.

The woman's hands explored the rest of his exposed body, lightly tracing old battle scars and his well defined muscles honed by years of training and combat. Confusion reigned supreme in Jormuden's mind. What devilry was this woman about? He thought briefly that she might have been tracing runes, but Jormuden felt no magic near him. Hesitantly, he reached out in his mind to the familiar light of Selane, recoiling when he felt his god's presence a mere dim reflection, a candle where it had previously been the scorching heat of the Summer sun.

The woman chuckled softly, her voice teasing.

"Did you really think, " her voice dropped to a low, teasing growl," that Selane would help you now, after he let you fall?"

Jormuden only grunted, he wasn't going to give the satisfaction of a reaction more than that. Whatever tricks the demons had played to suppress his connection to the divine, he wouldn't give in.

The fingers continued to lightly fondle his bound limbs, soft touch accompanied by that same strange sensation.

"The strong and silent type?"

The woman's voice was nearly a purr as she leaned in close, her warm voice only inches away from his face, her breath smelling faintly of something sweet.

"I just love that. Your kind makes for the best toys."

Jormuden couldn't help but feel as he supposed a mouse would, trapped with a hungry cat.

"And I am just going to love," she continued in an uncomfortably sensual moan, "every... last... second..."

Jormuden's mouth was suddenly smothered in an amorous kiss, a sweet and spicy taste overwhelming his senses and her lips met his. After a moment, she pulled away.

"... Of breaking you in."

Jormuden felt her weight shift off of whatever platform he was on, and her footsteps begin to walk away. The door opened again, accompanied by a wave of dry heat.

"Sleep tight, toy. I'll be back soon to begin your training."

The door closed with a heavy and final thud.