Miriam's Demon

Eomer and his wife Sundra sat by the fire they made and warmed their hands. The season was kind to them, sending farmers with failing crops their way for spells and simple enchantments. With their bellies full and their hearth warm they praised Ishtar for the well-being of their village. Sundra gazed at her husband, though far older than her seemed youthful in his chuckles as he recalled the jokes the village chief told him. She laughed along, bittersweetly wishing for a child's giggle to join them, but they have not been blessed that way.   Eomer stopped. The wizard sensed the presence of a being not of this land. "Speak your name Sir, if you are to be welcomed in this home." said Eomer as he reached for his bag of purifying salt. Sundra braced herself with the sacred sickle as the force of the presence grew. The small fire roared, reaching the straw ceiling of their hut. Though the fire burnt brighter the room became darker and the air in the hut grew dense as if coated in oil. "Demon!" Sundra yelled, recognising the entity. The fire swirled and danced through the air as an omnious laughter hung in the thick air. "I am Romaith. Lord and Sovereign of Nusku Habbatum. You, sir wizard, are honoured by my presence." A figure now made entirely of the fire stood inhumanely tall in the centre of the room. Eomer stood infront of Sundra, shielding her from the demon's glare. Eomer was familiar with the Fire Demon tribe of Nusku. Only decrepit witches and wizards were able to conjure them to do their bidding as their prices required sacrifices of the soul. Occasionally, the Demons wonder about stealing young men or women for their own carnal pleasures. The Demons, as with all other creations of the Gods, too had their own free-will to suffer.  "Lord Romaith," said Eomer ," to what do we owe this honor." A demon giving his name is not a good sign; it is a sign of an ultimatum resulting in death. Sundra, knowing this to be the case, prayed to all the deities of her tribe. "You have offended a great man, Eomer! Ah, by Shamash, you could have offended Dagan himself by how this man wants you dead!" the creature laughed. Both Eomer and Sundra looked at each other wondering who they could have offended to cause such destructions upon themselves. Their spells were nothing more than gentle offerings to the Earth Goddess meant to imbue love and health into the soil. "Oh, but, oh Eomer, I am a Loving spirit too. I have been told that such a creature of beauty graces this home as your wife. For a reward of a kind glance from this fair goddess shall set me on my way and i will deal with this Great Man as i deem fit. What say you wise wizard?" A lie worthy of a conniving monster, Eomer knew that a look into a demon's eye will cast their soul into immorality, allowing the demon to make its way with them. "No!" Eomer screamed as he threw his purifying salt at the Demon. The salt sizzled as it landed on it's skin but it did nothing more than to make its laughter thundered louder. With a gale of black smoke  the fiery beast grew larger. Eomer cried out Sundra's name before he burst into flames,  chunks of his flesh disappearing into the demon's now-giant mouth. Before long, Eomer was gone, leaving behind only charred footprints.  Sundra, in her shock, lunged at the demon, swinging the sickle at it. Blessed by the holy priestesses of Ishtar's altar, it connected into it's flesh, drawing an oozing of black tar. It roared with pain and slapped Sundra away, the force of which sent her flying through the mud walls. "I will eat your soul while you witness the depravity i commit upon your body Witch!" Sundra muttered under her dying breath, blood spluttering, she held the sickle to her throat. "By Enlil I curse you Romaith of Ishum Habbatum, to roam all of eternity in mortal flesh. By Nergal I curse you Romaith of Nusku Habbatum to suffer pleasure and love as all mortals do. By Innanna I Curse you with a human heart for all of your eternity." The demon stood transfixed over her bewildered by her audacity. Before it could claw her mouth off her face, she slipped her sickle through her neck and breathed her last as blood poured through her wound. Just then the skies opened and the heavens cried. The demon unable to spirit himself away was awashed by the cursed downpour in a cloud of black smoke. It seemed to grow smaller, its fiery flesh grew dense and heavy and suddenly slicked with rain. Its feet once drifting over the ground sank into the fresh mud. Next to the body of the white witch Sundra now laid a man drenched in rain, naked as a newborn.  And this is how the Demon-Man, Romaith of Tribe Nusku, came to be.