Roshan looked suspiciously at the portal, second guessing the mage who had brought him to it. Deep red eyes filled with doubt, he once again adjusted his black and blood-red leather armor. Running a hand through his jet black hair he finally put a hand on his dagger and, taking a deep breath, stepped through the glowing rip in space and time.
Emerging from the magical portal, he looked around. A full moon illuminated the landscape. He was definitely in a desert. He looked down the gorge. There was definitely a one-hundred foot or more drop to a ribbon of river. He looked to his left. There was definitely a bridge. He looked all around him. There was definitely not a sign indicating where the devil he was.
Roshan crossed the bridge, encountering a large fortress. He looked around and, seeing no one, he crept forward, exiting the small canyon he had come from. Out of nowhere, he heard a whistle. He whipped around, facing a woman in purple bearing a pike. He pulled out a small rod of hematite from his belt, running his magic through it to extend it into a quarterstaff of pure, blood-red energy. It was a stunning weapon only; he did not want to kill these people. The woman yelled at him in a language similar to his own. Still, he couldn't understand a word of it.
Roshan raised his weapon above his head in a gesture of peace. The purple-clad woman made to run him through with the pike, misunderstanding. Roshan brought his staff down it a blinding twirl, knocking the pike aside and sweeping the weapon through the woman. She shrieked and collapsed, unconscious.
Roshan sensed something behind him. He brought his staff up above his head, spun it once, and thrust it backwards, through the gap between his arm and side. He heard another shriek and turned to find a woman in white crumpled on the ground, her sword lying beside her. A figure in red charged him, attacking with a two-sworded, spinning, slashing attack. Roshan backed and waited. He struck forward coming across twice with each end of his staff. The woman blocked and attacked. Roshan countered, rendering yet another woman behind him unconscious while blocking the attack of the one in front of him. The woman in front of him charged with another spin attack. Roshan ducked and twisted, avoiding the spinning blades and striking the defenseless woman on the head. She, too, collapsed.
Roshan's vision exploded into stars as a pike haft collided with the back of his skull. Then blackness consumed him.
Roshan woke up surprised. Firstly, he was surprised that he even woke up in the first place. Secondly, he found himself on a comfortable, if small, cot under a warm blanket in a well-furnished room. Thirdly (and mostly), he was surprised that he was not restrained in any way. No chains, no ropes, no magical bonds, hell, the door wasn't even locked. He sat up and turned so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He felt the back of his head, quickly mending the cut there with a bit of magic.
Looking around as his headache melted away, he noticed his weapons leaning against the wall in the corner, his armor piled neatly on the floor beneath them. The door opened.
Roshan whipped his head towards the door, looking at the extremely beautiful woman entering his room. She wore green silk garments, which consisted of long pants from waist to ankle and a shirt that only covered her breasts, and just. She had bronzed skin, no doubt a result of her life in the desert. Her bright red hair was pulled back in a tight horsetail. She had angular, yet somehow smooth features, adding to her exotic beauty and shapely body. Her eyes were a bright shade of green, accented by her clothing. She was tall, just under Roshan's six feet, and thin, with a toned body.
"Oh," she said in a melodic voice, "you're awake." Roshan nodded. "And who are you?" she demanded. He knew his magic had connected him to the people around him while he had been unconscious. He could now understand and speak their language.
"I am a poor, wayfaring stranger." He replied. "A ranger."
"Well then, Ranger," she said, "you may call me Scout, for that is what I am, a scout of the Gerudo."
"Okay, Scout," Roshan replied, "Question: why am I not tied up, or clapped in irons, or in a room with a guarded door?"
"Because," Scout replied, "you have proven yourself worthy of our trust in defeating those guards last night.
"But I got hit on the head from behind," Roshan protested.
"Most men would not have even beaten the first guard, let alone four. There are one hundred warriors in this fortress, you would have fallen eventually."
"Then why are you here?" Scout's eyes glistened.
"I thought you'd never ask. I am here because we are to have…more intimate relations with each other."
Roshan stood rapidly, falling into a defensive posture. Scout stepped closer to him.
"It is another sort of test, if you will." Scout continued, seeming not to notice his reaction. "Do not worry, if you do not pass, we will think no less of you. To have a Gerudo make love to you is an honor. To make love to a Gerudo is an honor, a triumph, and a mark of strength."
"And if I don't wish to…" Roshan started, but was cut off by Scout.
"To refuse is to die." Roshan knew he could incapacitate this woman, even kill her if he was left no other option. But then he thought of the hundred others in the fortress. He decided that it wouldn't be so bad.
Roshan stepped closer to Scout, putting his hands against the small of her back and pulling her to him. He pressed his lips to hers as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He kissed her again, pulling her harder against him, trying to find a stimulus.
"Ranger," Scout breathed. That was all the ranger needed. He crushed her slight body against his muscled frame, pressing his tongue into her mouth. Her tongue met his in a sensual dance. One of Roshan's hands moved up, to press against her back, in between her shoulder blades; and his other moved down to round the curve of her bottom. She pressed tighter against him.
Soon after, Scout left Roshan's room, never to see him again.