The Quest of Jorgun

Our tale begins many, many years ago, when Jorgun was but a young lad. He was of good
breeding, but not of much notoriety. What he lacked in social standing he more than made up for
with his valiant character and unending courage. Where Jorgun saw wrong doings at any point in
his life, he would work his hardest to right them. There was not a man Jorgun wouldn't stand up
to, be they vassal, knight or noble. Stories had spread far and wide across the county, tales of
Jorgun guiding traveling merchants, defending women and their virtue and even slaying foul evils
that lurked from the depths of the forests and mountains to prey upon his village's livestock and
inhabitants. Why, when Jorgun was but of 15 years, he slew a great beast of a wild dog,
maddened with dark sorcery, that had been ravaging the local sheep ceaselessly for a fortnight.
As Jorgun was returning home, the evening sun having just lain down beyond the horizon for
the night, he heard a terrified cry. Instantly, he clutched his cane tightly and darted off along the
path. When he reached the cross roads on the north end of this town, all he found were two
tremendous paw prints and a scrap of a young girl's frock. Many would have surely given the girl
up for dead at this. After all, what chance did a young girl have against a wild dog that had torn
great rams asunder? But no, Jorgun would not have this! He earnestly eyed the tracks and looked
around, noticing others off the side of the road. Swiftly he tracked the hell-beast through the tall
grass, up to the edge of the southern forest, darkest of the three in the county. Without even a
pause or hesitation, with no thought of his own safety, the brave Jorgun sought that beast out
within the depths of the forest. And when that beast finally stood before him, looming over the
swooned figure of that young maiden, Jorgun did not quake. He did not look away, but stared
straight into the very black heart of the beast. The beast growled from the depths of its soulless
being. It summoned something sinister from inside itself, from down into the very bowels of Hel!
As it shuddered with its growling, it crouched over the unconscious maiden readying itself to
pounce. Jorgun clutched his staff tightly in front of himself as he braced for the beast's
movement. Suddenly it lurched, snarling, into the air. Jorgun was brought to the ground under
the beast's great weight as it sank its fangs into his shoulder and shook with all its monstrous
fury. But did Jorgun fold under this ferocious onslaught? Did our young hero succumb to the terror
of this hellish beast? No! He struck that beast with the butt of his staff, causing it to loose its grip.
Quickly, he sprung from underneath it and struck it again, swinging his sturdy oaken cane with all
his might. The beast was beaten and bashed upon its head. It cowered, but Jorgun was not
swayed. And when the beast bit the end of his cane off, crunching that heavy wood between its
mighty jaws, what did Jorgun do? Why, he ran the point through the beast's eye and killed it! On
that day, Jorgun became invincible, unstoppable, fueled by all the hatred and fury of that slain
beast, we all saw what a valiant warrior he would become!
And the young maiden, what of her? Why Jorgun carried her back to her family home where
he was welcomed with open arms and grateful smiles. And when the girl awoke to the face of
Jorgun watching after her in her sleep, she was taken. Immediately, she was enchanted by him.
The two of them grew up together, spending many moments with one another as their love
blossomed amongst the flowers and fields of the county. Snicker and whisper not, my dear
audience, for Jorgun was not only brave, but honorable and the girl's virtue remained intact until
their wedding night. Ah, I still remember that wedding. Never since has there been such a
beautiful occasion. Everyone possible was in attendance, even the Duke of the county! Jorgun's
name had gained much recognition indeed! He had been working as a warden of the county's lord
and a guard for the merchants and nobles who traveled through our shire. Many of these
distinguished guests were present on this momentous date. All the children from the entire county
were there, running and tramping through the grounds in search of Jorgun. They all looked up to
him as a true hero and loved to hear him recounting tales of his many valiant deeds. And the
maiden, young Yael, nothing was ever more beautiful than she, walking down that aisle on the
arm of her father, clothed all in white with flowers in her hair. I tell you, the very Earth and Sun
above were envious of her radiance that day.
Alas, the celebrations were short lived. Many stories had come through on the lips of those
merchants and nobles protected by Jorgun. And many more graphic details had come through
with the common travelers. Apparently, there was a war on in the rest of the world. The forces of
dark had been slowly spreading across the entire kingdom, consuming and butchering villages and
towns whenever they came across them. The habitants of this county had questioned and grown
restless, wondering what to do about their own defense. But the efforts were made to late and
moved to slow. On that joyous day of Jorgun and Yael's wedding, the evils of the world attacked.
They swept across the county, leaving the villages afire and the plains seeped in blood and
carnage of the helpless. Jorgun did all that he could, but a dark magic was used to disable him. A
great fury grew inside him as he was forced to watch the vile beasts take his love from him. With
all his might, he fought the enchantment and finally broke free, but it was already too late. Yael
was upon a gryphon, riding off to the horizon. Not a single menace remaining at that wedding
party was left to tell of it, but all the townspeople had fled or been slaughtered as well. In the
end, Jorgun was the only soul remaining in the county and so hetook up the quest of his lost love.
He vowed to the Gods themselves that whatever evil had impressed itself upon his kingdom would
rue the day it had been conceived.

With this vow in his heart, Jorgun gathered the last remains of his belongings and set out
across the land. As the days and weeks rolled by him, he came across many other evils. Jorgun's
prowess and rage only grew as he slew more and more of the beasts. Orcs and goblins, dire
hounds and great bats, nothing could stop this holy warrior as he set out to rid the land of all its
evils. Many a daemonic imp or hungry giant crossed Jorgun's path, and all were left rotting and
festering in the ditches along the roads he traveled. Where the lands had once run red with the
blood of villagers and peasants, now they ran black with tainted blood of evil silenced. Scores and
scores of those held captive were freed by Jorgun's blade and not a single evil monstrosity was
left in his wake to threaten their retreat to safety. Indeed, where the king's imperial armies had
failed, Jorgun's single minded conquest was rooting out every ounce of darkness from the land.
Armies were slowly turning. When Jorgun's name was mentioned, Orcish spears quivered and
even the Minotaurs' mail would chime with their fearful shudders. As the years passed, Jorgun
reached further and further into the heart of that evil mire. All this time, more of those beasts
slunk back into their bog. Slowly, Jorgun learned of the fate of his lost lover. Not only had she
been taken from him, but her once perfect form was now tainted and destroyed. She had been
used in the dark arts of Mikhail. Mikhail knew that only one so pure and perfect, only one the
subject of such virtuous and powerful love would be capable of calling forth the denizens of Hel.
So he had used her, sacrificing that innocent body upon his dark altar and cutting out her heart as
offering to the deepest depths of Hel. And who had been lured out of that fiery chasm by this
sacrifice? None dared to claim such an atrocity but the very Hel-beast Izuldr. From the throne
room of Lucifer himself had Izuldr come to claim this lost maiden. With this news, Jorgun's heart
was wrought. Now, not only had her presence been taken from him, but her spirit as well had
been consumed by the evils of this land. On the day Jorgun learned of this, a great cry went out
across the land. All the trees and mountains shuddered. Even Mikhail's Black Spyre creaked under
the strain of Jorgun's loss. He renewed his vow, not only to the Gods of Heaven, but to all the
Gods who would listen. Now, good patrons of this tavern, I do not wish for you to question the
honor of Jorgun, but understand the very distance a man in his position is thrust. Not only was
there no hope of seeing her on this mortal plane once more, but even the here-after would be
forever devoid of her being. Jorgun saw that there was no hope for love's return. The very
embodiment of all good that he knew was now gone from this plane and the next. So Jorgun
called not just upon the Gods which would judge the deeds of his life, but upon the darker Gods
which would welcome his unrelenting violence. Jorgun knew that he would need all the power and
strength he could muster to even challenge the Hel-beast Izuldr. He let not the sulfurous smoke
billowing from that distant spyre dissuade him. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, moving faster
and fighting harder than ever before in his life.

Finally, that fateful day arrived. Jorgun’s eyes rested upon the Black Spyre as he watched it
from the final ridgeline keeping him from it. Before its gate stood the Hel-beast's tremendous
form. Izuldr loomed expectantly over the ashen plain leading up to the Black Spyre. Without
hesitation, Jorgun strode directly up to the Hel-beast.
 “Release her soul,” he said plainly, the flashing of his eyes warning Izuldr what consequences
would come upon him if he did not heed the request. But Izuldr ignored those eyes, he laughed in
Jorgun’s face. His molten figure shuddered with laughter older than time itself.

“Now what is this that the Gods have brought before me? A mere mortal thinks he can
challenge this fury that commands all the legions of Hel? There are but a score who even dare to
request anything from me. A handful of Gods are the only equals I find on any of these planes.
Far more Gods than that tremble before me whenever I leave the depths of Under-Hel. Who are
you, a mere mortal peasant, to ask not just some task of me, but to surrender my prized
possession? In this world, your love was just a pile of flesh and bone, but in my world she was the
purest of all souls, the tastiest for me to devour. Yours will make far less of a treat for me since
you have tainted it so. Even then, there is no longer hope for you. Stand still mortal, so that you
may find your end quickly.”

With these words, Izuldr fell upon Jorgun with all his fury. He poured burning sulfur over
Jorgun from his mouth, while stooping down to consume him. What did Jorgun do? Did he run?
Did he cower before the most ancient fury to ever visit the mortal planes? No, good sirs and
ladies! Jorgun did not retreat! He raised his mighty sword, fashioned out of dragon’s tooth, bone
and scales, and leapt up into that gaping mouth of fire. Izuldr lurched with shock and surprise as
he felt the mortal spring into his throat. He jerked upright, clutching at his neck as he felt the
immense hatred of Jorgun channeled through his blade as it cut through his fleshy innards. Jorgun
carved out a path from the Hel-Beast’s mandibles directly down into his heart. Not only did he cut
the heart out from his chest, but he ripped it in half from within, using just his bare hands. The
Hel-Beast staggered, his torrential hide churning with his agony, and finally collapsed. His body
fell back into the Black Spyre, crumbling it under his massive weight. As the tower sank with the
beast beneath the blackest reaches beyond Under-Hel, Mikhail stepped from his perch on the roof.
He had been watching Jorgun’s battles all across the land and now it was his time to finally meet
this invincible man. Mikhail cackled loudly as he floated slowly down from his height. Jorgun may
have slain his Hel-Beast, but he would find much greater trouble in using that mundane weapon
against his long dead form.

“Your sword has been consumed in Hel-fire, Jorgun. And yet you still try to face me. All your
fury and ability left with that weapon. Why are you so eager to meet the fate of your lover? Now
that Izuldr is forever slain, even her death was a worthless venture. Come now, be sensible, good
Jorgun. Kneel before me as your lord and you may lead my legions across the entire world.
Together, we shall conquer not only the mortal planes, but the furthest reaches of the heavens!
Not a soul shall be left untouched as we march through infinity. Can’t you see the glory and power
joining me will bring you?”

Jorgun said not a word. He gathered all his strength and leaped. He jumped with every ounce
of might he had ever possessed and flew that hundred yards up to Mikhail’s hovering figure. With
an even greater rage than that used to fell the Daemon Beast, Jorgun brought the Dark Lord
crashing to the ground.

“WAIT!” Mikhail cried. “Let us reason, Jorgun! Let me live and I shall call you lord! Infinite
power and wealth, people worshipping your name and visage everywhere you go! Anything you
want in all the realms is yours if you just let me live!”

“I want Yael,” said Jorgun as he slid the blade into Mikhail’s neck. With one deft move, he
removed the ghoulish head from its perch; the silver dagger fashioned from Yael’s wedding crown
and ring now melted as it vanquished this final evil. And with the smoldering head, Jorgun stood
up. He raised it high for all the worlds to see and cried with a fury man will never know again.
 “Yeah, weirdest thing. He was just standing there screaming in the middle of the supermarket
and holding up that poor SOB’s head.” Officer Frank Morris had seen a lot of strange things in his
time on the force. He’d seen prostitutes cut in ways he would never be able to forget. He’d seen
pimps and thugs cowering and crying like babies in front of their women. He’d even seen
complete druggie-losers who could give Einstein a run for his money. In all this chaos, in all the
exotic mysteries Philadelphia had to offer him, he’d never seen anyone snap like that.

“Some hobo from a few blocks away. Normally he stays out of this neighborhood, but people
have been saying he’s been acting crazier and wandering further ever since he stole the bayonet
last week. Yeah, that's what he used on the victim. Can you even guess how long it takes to go
through a neck with an old bayonet like that? Well, he never hurt anyone before, not that we
know of. Now he’s gone and played Hamlet with that poor bastard. What’s the fucking world
coming to?”