Private Tales Naked and Alone..ish

[Jorg]

Jorg was almost entirely sure that he'd cracked a rib...or three.

A grown of pain escaped him as he heard the Elf yell at him again, his lips thinning slightly as he wondered just how bad it would be if she 'accidentally' got eaten by the Waywatcher.

Still, the warrior pushed through the pain. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, and slowly he pulled himself up. "Cut the legs!"

He shouted at her.

Waywatchers were hearty little bastards. Near impossible to kill and kept going even after you cut off their head. It was mostly just thrashing, but could still get you good. Once you cut off the legs though? Well, a spider without legs wasn't much thread.

Stepping carefully on the creatures carapace Jorg swung his blade. It sliced through the Broodmothers leg, forcing the beast to stumble and shift slightly.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel dragged the blade out of its neck and nodded to his words. As he moved towards one leg the elf decided to make her way over to the opposite leg. The thrashing and moving hardly seemed to phase her as she hopped and jogged her way over to the joint of the creatures leg. Another murmured words and her blades became as white hot as the heart of a flame and she swept them down in a beautiful joint arc to slice through the Waywatchers leg. The beast stumbled again and lurched violently to one side causing Miri's feet to slip in the warm blood that spurted from its wound.

She gave a soft grunt before managing to find purchase once more on its hairy hide by digging her blade into its back and using it as a staff of sorts. With her still free blade she swung at another leg.

"Where's it's mate?" the Broodmothers shrieking was more than likely to raise some form of alarm but she hadn't seen another one of the things eject itself from the flaming cave. Which probably meant it had been out hunting.

 

[Jorg]

Jorg let out a loud grunt as his blade swept through the creatures leg, severing it just at the base. He had no idea how many Miriel herself had cut, how many the creature had already lost.

Yet It seemed it was enough.

As Jorg cut another one of the legs the Waywatcher seemed to stumble, and then it's weight proved to be too great for it's remaining appendages. The great spider stumbled, and then suddenly there was a sickening crack as the monsters remaining legs broke under the weight.

Half a squeak erupted form Jorg, and he quickly flipped his blade and stabbed it into the spiders back as it went crashing to the ground with a large thunk.

Dust and debris rose into the air as the spider came to a standstill, thrashing even now and shrieking loud enough to be heard for miles. "I don't know."

Jorg called as he ripped the blade free.

"But nowhere go-" His head turned as he head trees splintering and shattering to the left of them, the sound of clicking echoing out.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

As the spider lurched violently to one side as her legs broke beneath her Miri pushed herself forward. Thorlion swept past just as she couched and pushed off from the creatures back. She hit the saddle hard, her hands finding the pommel of the saddle, the leather strap of the stirrup and she hurled herself back into the right position. Her chest rose and fell in quick sharp breaths as she wheeled the horse around to see the other Waywatcher spider crashed through the trees towards them. It was a testament to his side and strength that merely barging past the thick old redwoods that had been here for near a millennia were carelessly uprooted and tossed out of the way or splintered into a million pieces in its frenzy.

Jorg had said that the Broodmother had had to be last which meant they had to take down this thing before they could finish her off.

"Why does she have to be last?" Thorlion came to a hover beside him and she leaned down to hold out a hand for him.

 

[Jorg]

Jorg let a frown lurk on his lips, still standing on top of the spider he glanced over to Miriel who had made her way back onto her accursed steed. There was a hand offered, but he slowly shook his head and motioned towards the spider.

"Because of the..." Jorg trailed off. The spider before them was twice the size of what they had just killed, it's huge maw would have been enough to take Thorlion in one single gulp. It's eyes were filled with a red hatred, fixed on the fallen Broodmother.

A loud screech echoed out, reaching through the trees and echoing at every corner. "The Blood Frenzy."

As he finished speaking, the spider lashed out with one of it's massive legs.

With a razor sharp needle point the leg came slicing down on where Jorg had been standing. He jumped away just in time, the appendage stabbing through the Broodmother's carapace and ending her misery.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Thorlion snatched Miriel's hand away form Jorg as he swept out of the way of the monsters incoming attack. The elf bit off a curse as they swept their way underneath the creatures large belly and then up between two legs before they got too close to the stinger. The noise of its cries tore through her and sent a chill to her very bones. She clenched her teeth and as Thorlion soared up with speed towards the clouds Miri jumped once more from the saddle to land on the beasts back, but before it went to lunge at Jorge again.

The feeling of her feet running down its body was enough to give it pause and infuriate it further. It was enough to give Jorg time to move. Her eyes swept across the vast expanse of its form as she ran, assessing the legs as she went. It was a surprisingly long way way to run such was its size. With a small flick of her wrist the six knives that decorated her belt flew free and in pairs set off for a different leg.

 

[Jorg]

Jorg dashed forward.

There was really no escape from something like this, no way that he could run fast or far enough to actually outpace the massive Patriarch. That left him with really only one choice; run directly at it.

The sword flipped within his hand, turning upward. He could see Miriel move along the Waywatchers back, rushing over it's form and hearing the monster skitter as it did it's best to throw her off. Jorg rushed beneath it, using the distraction to slide directly under it's carapace.

He sliced it's underbelly, a decision he would immediately regret.

Acidic Blood spurt onto the ground, bubbling and hissing on the foliage beneath...though that was not his trouble.

The Patriarch reared, shifting as Miriel's knives punctured one of it's legs and Jorg cut into it. The Spider shifted, and then the Werewolf below found himself under assault from it's massive stinger.

The appendage slammed down, it's side catching his armor and slicing through the elven made steel like it was butter.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel swore in a very distinctively human way as the spider reared up. Her feet ran twice even as they began to slip until she hit the creatures fur and began to slide quickly down its back towards the ground. She ripped out fistfuls of prickly black strands as she went, seeking purchase...

... and then the creature righted itself suddenly as it refocused its anger on attacking Jorg who was still stupidly running around below the thing. At least from its back it was harder for the damn thing to attack her. She couldn't see what exactly was happening due to the sheer size of the thing but she could hear the battle and the screech of something tearing through metal.

His sword or his armour?

Miriel went sprawling forward as the spider returned to all six remaining legs and Miriel crawled her way forward towards her sword, dragging air back into her bruised lungs. The sword quivered as she reached out a hand and then shot towards her, slicing through the air with a whistle. Then she rolled smartly to her feet and dove into the nearest leg with all her strength.

 

[Jorg]

The Waywatcher seemed to shift as another of it's legs was severed and attacked, a screech rushing through it as it's weight shifted.

Jorg was still beneath it, quickly dodging and rolling beneath in a desperate attempt to dodge the beasts stinger. He could already feel the monsters poison coursing through him, his head woozy and everything spinning.

The wound in his side burned, and he could only thank whatever god was watching over him that the beast hadn't managed to get him directly.

As Miriel swept forward and severed another leg, Jorg rolled out from beneath the monsters abdomen and called out to her. "Cut it's stinger!"

He shouted.

"I'll keep it distracted!" With an inhuman speed Jorg burst backward, slashing at the creatures leg and shouting at it to entice himself and only himself as prey.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel narrowly missed the spurt of toxic blood as it sprayed from the severed limb and crawled her way backwards onto the creatures broad back as it began swinging a leg at her as if it sought to knock her off. After a moment it threw itself against the side of a tree and screeched again. Miriel barely heard Jorgs words but she nodded all the same, hazel eyes scanning for the stinger located somewhere behind her.

Again the monster threw its back into a tree and scraped itself across the wood.

Miriel used the monsters on movements to help speed up her rapid slid down his back towards the stinger. It must have thought she was a threat it had removed for it quickly refocused its attention on Jorg. Miri used whatever distraction he was beginning to give it to throw herself once more to her feet and run the rest of the way, both swords drawn in her hands. She crouched then pushed off, sailing forwards and bringing the blades down in a hard slice across the stinger.

 

[Jorg]

Jorg saw it.

He saw the intent. The moment he could have been killed. He'd rushed out from beneath spider, ran over thick foliage and hopped over boulders. He'd run as fast as he could and as far as he could. It had been beyond what any human could have done, but it wasn't enough.

The Patriarch was too big, too fast. It scurried after him even as Miriel ran upon it's back, and then it cornered him.

Between the cliff and the trees Jorg had nowhere to go, his eyes bugging out as the creature skittered to a halt. The beasts weight shifted, and moved to strike. Stinger came up, aiming directly for his heart.

Then Miriel sliced it off.

A screech, louder than the on offered by the Broodmother echoed out within the wood. The sound was enough to make ears bleed, Jorg cringing as he wrenched his sword up and struck at the creatures throat.

With one quick swift strike he chopped into the monsters neck, half hacking off it's head.

The pain from losing it's stinger, and then the bite of Jorg's sword sent the massive beast reeling. It fell to the side, feeling the weight of it's missing legs. Then it crashed against the cliffside itself, boulders beginning to fall as the rock crumpled against the Patriarch's weight.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miri landed on the ground a second after the stinger squelched into the earth. It looked so effortless and graceful all in one yet the beast drove her to her knees as it screamed. Her sensitive ears felt like they were about to burst as she threw her hands over them and scrunched her eyes tight. Waves of pain wracked through the warriors body but she twisted just in time to see the great beast go crashing to the side.

At first only a few stones were dislodged and then a few larger rocks. Then came the boulders. It was all going to come crashing down at this rate. Miri stumbled to her feet and her eyes opened wide as the realisation hit her they could end up buried in the rockslide if they were not quick.

"Go!" she didn't feel like she should have to tell the human to run but then again they always surprised her. Miri was already sprinting for the other end of the ravine, her fingers in her lips as she let our a sharp trill of a whistle.

 

[Jorg]

Jorg ran, ran as fast as he possibly could as the rocks began to fall down. They crashed against the side of the ravine, exploded against the earth and tore apart what was left of the still wailing Patriarch.

The werewolf moved quick, dodging what he could, but he found himself slowed by the poison running through his veins. Waywatcher venom wasn't deadly, at least not to most things, but it was powerful paralytic.

In Mallian it was sometimes used by prostitutes to steal from unwitting customers.

As he ran Jorg wished that such was the case here, he could handled a few ladies of the night stealing his purse, but right now...right now with his pace he looked like he was about to get squished.
"Shit shit shit!"

Jorg shouted as he stumbled forward.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel grabbed him by the scruff of the neck as they soared past.

At her whistled Thorlion had burst from the clouds like the loyal steed he was and she had used the momentum of one of the falling rocks to pushed herself into the sky and then pull herself up in to the saddle. Thorlion had spotted Jorg before Miri had and had winged his way with speed towards the human. The black stallion climbed into the sky the moment his rider had seized Jorg by the scruff of the neck, heedless to any concerns for his passengers safety.

As they soared over the lip of the ravine Miriel dropped him onto the soft grass and Thorlion came to land a second later. She was strong but he wasn't a particularly light man all the same. The elf rolled her shoulder forward and back to loosen up the bunched up muscles.

"Are you ok?" she walked back over to where she had dropped him.

 

[Jorg]

Jorg crashed onto the ground with a loud thump, his head spinning as he tried to reach for something that wasn't actually there.

"Way-way-waywatsher veeeeenom." Oh right. There was another side-effect to the poison.

Once it took over it rendered the victim entirely loopy and nearly incoherent. That was another reason that it was used by prostitutes. Before the men became paralyzed they often made fools of themselves. It was hard to believe an idiot.

Jorg's head lulled for a second, looking up at Miriel. "You're veeeeeeeery pretay."

He said, blinking rapidly.

"But your horse is mean." His head lulled towards Thurlion.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

"Alright Casanova," Miriel sighed and crouched down beside him. He was like a limp doll as she moved his arms so they were draped down her back then grasped him about the waist and hoisted him up and over her shoulder. She was no medic but she knew the venom was a nasty one that if went untreated could result in lasting symptoms. She fancied neither of them wanted to suffer this version of him for longer than strictly necessary.

She carried him back to Thorlion who stomped his hoof in protest as she approached.

"One last ride with him, I swear," she held a hand over her heart. The horse let out a quiet snort and then quietly waited for her to drape him across the saddle. With a hop she vaulted up behind him and then steered the horse around and pointed him back towards the city.

When he finally came around he wound find himself in the infirmary. There was bandages about his ribs which had been broken and other wounds and scratches. Across the puncture wound was slaved a think green substance that a nurse was carefully reapplying when he woke.

 

[Jorg]

"Oooo." Jorg said as she picked him up. "I like a strong lady."

He patted her face. "Theeeeeeey can hold me doooooown."

Those were the last words that Jorg actually remembered saying. When he woke up in the infirmary his head hurt something fierce, like he'd just spent a week in Alliria binge drinking out of the belly buttons of beautiful gypsy women.

A woman stood by his side, slowly applying a bandage to him.

Jorg lulled his head, blinking slightly. "Hello there."

He said calmly.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

The woman's golden eyes slid towards him slowly when he spoke before returning to her duty quietly. She said nothing as she finished redressing his wound then collected her pieces of equipment and clipped her way back down the ward and out through the doors at the far end. A few minutes passed before Miriel walked back through them carrying with her a tray. Her armour had gone to be replaced with the soft leather clothing more common amongst her people when they were off duty. She sat down on the edge of the bed and carefully set the tray on his lap.

There was an assortment of vegetables swirling in the steaming bowl of stew.

"How are you feeling?" her eyes ran over his face before she reached out and put the back of her head to his forehead with a small frown.

 

[Jorg]

The Elf didn't seem to even acknowledge him, gathering her tools and slowly walking away. "Not great bedside manner!"

It probably wasn't a good idea to antagonize the people taking care of you, but Jorg had always been lippy. His mother had told him that it would make his future wife hate him, and he'd told her any woman that didn't enjoy his lips wasn't worth having.

He shook his head slightly, and then let out a sigh as he closed his eyes.

Just then Miriel popped into the room, his eye opening to spot the woman who had dragged him from the field.

"Well I've been worse." He told her, looking down at the food gratefully. The wolf in his head growled, not really enjoying greens. "Did I call your horse pretty?"

He asked with a frown.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel snorted a laugh but she didn't look particularly happy when she drew her hand back. He was still uncomfortably warm; perhaps the poison hadn't quite left his system fully yet. She stood up and walked over to the small bedside table and poured him a glass of cold spring water.

"No, you called me pretty. You called Thorlion mean - which he did not take kindly to by the way," her lip curled faintly to one side in the ghost of a smile before passing him the glass and sitting back down on the very edge of his bed, poised to respond to any threat or call at a seconds notice.

"You've been out for a few days, my mother wrote to your father to let him know you had made it here safely but had caught a sickness on your way here which was why things were taking longer," Miri watched him calmly as she spoke, waiting for his reaction. She was still convinced he had not truly meant to come here on trade talks but she had been wrong so far...

 

[Jorg]

Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

Fuck.

His skin paled slightly.

She had written his father? What the fuck was he going to think? What was he going to say? Jorg hadn't been back to Mallian in nearly five years. He'd sent the odd letter speaking of his adventures and times with the company, but this?

He hoped to god that his father had enough guile to lie. "Ah well, I guess I got the words right then."

She was rather pretty after all.

"Well." He cleared his throat. "At least the old man will know I'm safe. He does worry about me."

That wasn't a lie either.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

The elf's eyes narrowed the tiniest of fractions.

"Yes... at least he will know," Miriel pressed the glass of water into his hand and then stood up again. "My mother was pleased with how you fought out there, she has agreed to discuss the details of the trade when you are feeling better and asks that I extend to you the hospitality of our people. You broke several ribs and have sustained a series of nasty cuts. The doctors recommend at least six weeks of rest before you travel home again," her lips thinned out into a line as she watched him, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to tell her the truth. As the silence stretched on she pressed her hand down on the table that sat at the bottom of his bed.

"You know.. what I can't figure out is why my horse... who can walk around with literal babes on his back, tried to throw you from his back."

 

[Jorg]

Jorg opened his mouth and tossed what appeared to be a piece of Wilds broccoli into his mouth. The taste was surprisingly exquisite, and even though the Wolf disdained this sort of food he managed to swallow and keep it down.

"Six weeks, huh?" The Mercenary said with a slight frown.

With the Wolf helping that probably meant about two. He would have to hide his healing from them, then make a break for it before they actually caught on. Shouldn't be too hard, at least...he hoped so anyway. "I suppose there's worse places to recover."

He said, wiggling in the bed slightly.

"Horses have never liked me." That was a lie. "I remember this one time I tried Horse Racing back in Mallian. Didn't even get off the finish line before the damned thing threw me."

That actually was true, but he'd been obnoxiously drunk and his horse had not appreciated vomit on it's side.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel tapped her index finger on the table. The steady noise was the only thing that could be heard in the room for quite some time before she finally took her intense gaze off him and instead looked at the bouquet of flowers that had been brought in and put on the table. She ran her finger over the petals of a flower.

"If you say so, but I have had that horse since he was a few weeks old and I have only ever seen him react like that to two people. One happened to be a Nordenfiir and the other," her eyes flicked up towards him. "A werewolf," she studied him again for a moment before pushing off from the table

"Funny how I can now add you to that short, short list. Is there anything else I can get for you?" her eyes ran over the thin blankets and pillows.

 

[Jorg]

He flickered a smile, though he tried to hide the goosebumps that trailed up his spine.

"Funny." He said with a frown. "Maybe he can sense your intense attraction to me and is just worried you'll forget about him."

A shrug rolled over his shoulders. "Animals are smarter than you think."

He hate another piece of broccoli. This woman was going to be the death of him. He needed to get the fuck out of here before they wrapped a noose around his throat.

There was a slight pause as he chewed, then slowly swallowed. "That sword I had. Can I have it?"

It had been a good blade, better than his.