Morals and Magic

You stand before the man silent, though your thoughts aren't on him. The spell you used... You hadn't studied it, practiced it, or really even remembered it, yet when opportunity arose, it came so easily to your lips. A spell to enthrall a soul, just like the demonic mistress you'd killed 2 weeks ago. A hand goes to your chest, and for a moment you think you can feel his black essence writhing around under your skin. You tremble, and your stomach turns.

"Miss?" The demon rumbles, still kneeling before you.

"Stand up. Go away. Go on about your business."

He rises, "Mistress, Is tha..."

"Don't call me that!" You shout fiercely, more quietly you begin to curse under your breath before stating. "I... I will free you."

"Miss..." His voice lingers on your title, but respecting your command, he sticks with the less formal designation. "I do not advise that."

You fume, and glare up at him. "And. Why. Not? You punctuate each word harshly, but he seems unshaken

"If you free me, I will kill you." He states curtly. "Try to kill you." He corrects.

"I didn't mean to enslave you in the first place."

"But I am enslaved. And I will not forgive you, should you return my freedom."

You remain silent, and he stares silently. You wonder if any hatred brews inside him, hidden behind this placid gaze, or if perhaps his promise of retribution is purely intellectual. You hide your face behind your silly gloved hand for a moment, and sigh. "Fine. You will escort me until I find out what to do with you permanently."

"Of course, miss. You could have me jump into a sulfur geyser before you release my s..."

"No! No! absolutely not." You stammer, wide eyed. "I'm not going to kill you. fuck!" You sigh again, and look away. "I'll find something else. Don't worry." Silence lingers between you, and the sounds of bazaar fills the void. "What's your name, pig demon?"

"I am called Mochyn." He rumbles.

It suits him. The demon is massive, easily 8 and a half feet, with wide shoulders, and a wider belly. He wears his fat like an extra layer of armor, and despite his pot belly, his arms ripple with corded muscles. His fingers are only two and one thumb on each hand, and each is covered in a rough nail as thick as a horses hoof. He wears a tattered red cloak over banded metal armor, but his legs are covered only in leather slacks, and rather than feet, he has wide tough cloven hooves. On his back is a round shield as wide as he, and a halberd as tall as he. His tanned face is eerily human, with a wide strong jaw and heavy brow. If it weren't for the porcine nose, short cropped hair, and piggish ears he'd almost be handsome, in a beastly way.

"Very well." You sigh. "I am Arvilla, you will escort me until I see fit."

"It will be my pleasure, miss Arvilla." He smiles, revealing thick tusk like canines, yet the devious tilt of his brow makes you wonder just how complete your spells enthralling effects are.