We'd tracked the Erinyes to the Cathedral of the Invincible Sun, in Shatterdown. There were five of us - Sir Jorin Shieldheart (a paladin in service to St. Cuthbert of the Cudgel), Brother Gentlefist (a cleric of Kord), the illustrious Lady Wandholm (a bard of noble birth and bearing), a nervous elf that gave his name only as Butterknife (with very little explanation thereof, though Sir Jorin seemed to know something about him that the rest of us did not) and myself, Koalin Indigo, a sorcerer of some small fame.
We had no idea what we were in for when we opened the front door.
The Pelorian altar had been desecrated with the blood of a dozen murdered priests. The devil stood at the head of the room, impassively observing a lay member of the church that was strangling to death as she swung from a noose. The Erinyes body was splattered with gore, and I am ashamed to admit that I nearly retched right there - the stench was overpowering.
Brother Gentlefist raised his mace and opened his lips to begin a spell when the devil turned suddenly, rimmed in sickly red light that guttered and spat. The radiance leapt from her outstretched hand and impacted us, scrabbling at our minds and trying to freeze us in place. I barely fought it off, but was horrified to see that aside from myself, only Sir Jorin was staggering out of the light.
"Come and get me," the devil hissed, and she spread her greasy wings wide and took to the air in a mighty leap, landing in the rafters of the cathedral.
I began a spell as Sir Jorin sprinted past me, unsheating his sword to save the devil's latest victim. He cut her down just as I finished my magic, striking at the she-devil with an orb of shrieking sound. The impact made her ears bleed. I was repaid for my efforts with a flaming arrow to the shoulder, and the searing impact made my eyes water and a blossom of pain bloom in my flesh.
Jorin began climbing the tapestries while I attempted another spell, but they tore beneath his fingers. My magics fizzled against some kind of protection on the she-witch, but I drank a potion and felt its power settle over me just before she loosed her second arrow, and it shattered against me. Jorin leapt onto the statue of Pelor and climbed grimly, sword in one hand and prayers on his lips.
Spells and arrows flew and traded as the Erinyes and I jockeyed for advantage and Jorin ascended steadily. Just as he reached the rafters, the devil spared him a glance - and vanished as a cloud of darkness descended over the church, hovering just above my face and devouring all light.
Wasting no time, I turned to the paralyzed form of Lady Wandholm and began rummaging through her scroll cases until I found what I was looking for - a scroll of banishment that would send the devil back to the Nine Hells. I looked up and waited for the darkness to vanish.
And vanish it did. Jorin had not moved, not wanting to risk falling from the rafters, but the Erinyes had totally changed her position. Jorin sprinted after her, sword raised, and realized the trap far too late - he cut left in order to get a better approach on the devil and fell through an illusory wooden beam. It was thirty feet to the stone floor, and he landed with enough impact to shatter flagstones.
I opened the scroll and read desperately, and the look of horror on the she-devil's face was beyond compare. Just as she opened her mouth to screech something, the spell was completed and she vanished with a small clap of displaced air.
Jorin picked himself up, bleeding in several places. The holy symbol on his breastplate was scratched and marred, and his helmet was so badly dented that all he could do was throw it away, which he did. Before I could ask him how badly he was hurt, he seized the holy symbol from around his neck and threw it to the ground.
Sir Jorin plunged his blade into the soft silver, and after the sword wedged between two flagstones, he snapped the blade in half.
"What are you doing?" I cried out, shocked and stunned. Without a word, he began walking past me, stripping off parts of his armor as he went.
"I'm done," he murmured as he strode past the group. "I quit. I'm tired of fighting evil with my hands tied behind my back, and I refuse to become like it in order to oppose it."
"What about justice? What about your vows?"
He turned on me, fire in his eyes, and snarled, "Tell my order that justice is dead."
He walked out without a further word, and that's the last I ever saw of him.