Fantasy Lessons in Goodness

[SilverSuzi]

The demon wasn't certain how he'd caught the goddess's attention. He had only just begun to build a following in this mortal realm, far from the demon hordes and monster armies he had commanded on other worlds, in previous apocalyptic campaigns. No, just an itty-bitty cult, a few human sacrifices, enough to give him presence here and break free of the Dark Plane... nothing that should have warranted full-on Divine Intervention just yet. But somehow he had been noticed, and she had intervened, preaching about holy fire and justice. The battle between them lasted for days; they seemed to be evenly matched. They fought without rest, sometimes on land, sometimes in the air, across miles of various terrain. Never one to back down from a challenge, the demon delighted in this duel, though he would have enjoyed a bit more carnage and collateral damage. The goddess had an annoying habit of always drawing them away from any signs of civilization.

At last, in the middle of the fourth night of battle, the demon knew his triumph was approaching. That incessant white-hot light emanating from her eyes was fading. The goddess's blows and strikes became clumsy, poorly calculated. And he was certain that more of her blood had been spilt than his. She had even begun mumbling incoherently whenever she had a moment to catch her breath. He dealt what was sure to be the final blow, swinging his great, double-bladed, blood-soaked axe, adorned with the skulls of fallen foes, ready to claim another...

Before the blade made contact but too late for him to change it's course, the demon noticed a dazzling grin upon the goddess's lips, as she uttered one last word, and erupted into blinding, piercing light.

Pain coursed through his body and seized his mind, all senses, all thought drowned out by the agonizing sensation. Like being consumed by fire and a thousand knives, and then turned inside out and back again, this pain was nothing he'd ever experienced before. He'd fought in countless battles, faced numberless hordes of foes, even tasted defeat now and then and had to return to the Dark Plane to recover, but never had he felt like this. He bore it for less time than he'd care to admit, and then lost consciousness.

...

When he began to regain his senses some time later, he thought at first he might be paralyzed. It took a lot of coaxing to get his limbs to move, an inch here and there, and the way in which they moved felt... wrong. Though he was burdened with weariness he had the sense that he had lost mass somehow. His body felt foreign and twitchy. He had yet to keep his eyes open for more than a second, as the midday sun struck him with such ferocity it sent fresh waves of searing pain through his skull. However, as he managed to maneuver into an upright position and take stock of himself, he began to realize what was missing, and could no longer bear to forego sight.

His wings were gone, for starters. The lack of their weight at his back nearly caused him to pitch forward, even though he'd yet to stand. Cursing at the ache surging through his head, he squinted down at himself. The first thing he could comprehend was that the ground was far nearer than usual. Rather than thick, broad limbs and torso of rolling muscle and tough, thorny hide, the body before him -- his body -- was a spongy, pale, wiry little travesty. He gaped at his hands -- wriggling, stubby twigs of fingers in place of his once-terrifying claws -- and saw that they were trembling. Trembling! He did not tremble! He made others shake in terror and wet themselves before squashing them beneath his mighty feet! Now, his feet didn't look capable of supporting even this thin, frail body he was trapped in. Mind reeling, he clutched at his throbbing skull, then probed all around it. His horns were missing too, no trace of them. In immense frustration and disgust, he tugged at the limp, tangled locks of black hair that had replaced his glorious full mane, and let out a rage-fueled roar. Or rather, it was meant to be a rage-fueled roar, but to his ears sounded like a pathetic, pained scream, a sound he associated with his victims, not something that should be coming from himself.

How was this possible? How could this be? The demon-turned-human cast his gaze wildly about, in search of answers amidst the serene forest clearing he found himself in.

Sha

 

[Sha]

"Okay... Okay... Oka-No no... no, no, no no no no..." Jerry's frantic muttering trailed off as he weaved his way through the trees. The fluttering of wings followed and surpassed him time and time again as the forest birds also sought to outrun the fiery mess which shook the skies above. Every now and then the ground beneath him would rumble, a tree would fall, or an animal far larger than he would pass him by in an equal state of terror.

The only thing on his mind was escape; a primal instinct urged him forward in a full sprint and dulled any sense of curiosity which might have caused him to peer over his shoulder at the ensuing chaos. Having been a traveling merchant for nearly a decade, the twenty-six year old trader had seen his fair share of commotion and thuggery but never before had he encountered such a furious, cataclysmic encounter such as the one which now warded all manner of life from its center.

It was curious, what happened next. The feeling was akin to that of a mage's anesthesia performed before a surgery or pulling of teeth. In one moment he could feel nothing but the burning sensation of fear beneath his skin and then, in an instant, feeling as though no time at all had passed, he simply woke up. The sweat which once covered every morsel of skin had dried, leaving behind a salty crust. His breathing was steady but his legs were aching and he could feel the soles of his feet pulsing from within his leather boots.

He had little time to ponder what had happened before a painful cry filled with sorrow erupted from behind the trees to his back. Jerry moved cautiously toward the sound which came from only a few yards away. Peering around a tree he saw a man looking frantically about, seated in a small clearing. It was serene; amidst the shade of the forest, this small clearing was soaked in light and the trees around it were neatly spread while forming a perfect, encompassing circle.

He stepped forward into the light. His loose shirt and long, black hair sat perfectly still in the warm, windless alcove. The arrows in the quiver on his back were packed tightly together but the bow was dropped along with his coat during his escape. A bow and arrow would do little against the fury of an angle and demon engaged in ferocious combat but now, despite the apparent frail state of the man before him, he wished it was in his hand.

"So, uh," Jerry began, progressing closer to the despondent man, "You OK? The bastards didn't hit you did they?" He finished with a nervous chuckle as he wondered if this was meant to be a part of his penance and just how in the hell the priest knew it was going to happen.

"Penance," He thought, "Don't you mean, 'Sacrifice'."

 

[SilverSuzi]

In his frantic search for some explanation for this predicament, the demon-man spotted someone else entering the clearing. A human man, normally not worth the demon's attention unless they were bowing in worship or offering sacrifice to him. But that was when he towered over them, large enough to smoosh them in one hand. Now, he realized, he was of equal height to the mortal standing across from him. Standing, not cowering or bowing, while the demon-man himself had yet to make it up from his knees. And he was armed, at least partially so, which altogether put the demon at a severe disadvantage. But the demon wasn't yet concerned about all that, he was more annoyed by the human's concerned gaze. 'Great,' he thought. 'A witness to my humiliation.'

"Am I ok?" He growled, slowly and shakily rising to his feet. "Look at me, I look ridiculous!" He indicated his thin, puny body, exposed and unprotected apart from a thin bit of cloth wrapped about his loins. Wherever his armor had gone mattered little, considering he'd be too small to wear it now. There was no sign of his war-axe either, not that he could hope to lift it in this state. And his opponent... He took another glance around the area, but already knew she was long gone. Whether dead or vanished, he knew not, and it vexed him to no end.

"Look what she's done to me!" There could be no other explanation, this was the goddess's doing. "Reduced me to this pathetic, mortal body. She's a thief, robbed me of my power, my magnificence!" His voice rose to reach the heavens as he began to stalk around. He didn't care much about the man nearby, but maybe the goddess was listening. "I was winning! I had won! She has stolen my victory with her trickery. I will not stand for this!" Then his foot caught on a large stone, and subsequently he found his face planted in the dirt.