Fable - Ask Two Taboos

Jorg

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Julin

There were few things in this world that were as enjoyable as a cold mug of ale after a night of running around as a bipedal wolf monster.

A single sip was enough to wash out the taste of blood in your mouth, and the whole mug was nearly enough to make you forget about the whole incident entirely. Well, usually, depending on how much the wolf had eaten the night before and the strength of the Ale. Regardless, it was still fantastic, and Jorg found himself enjoying it more than he usually did.

He wasn't exactly sure why, though it might have had something to do with the fact that he'd gotten it for free. The owner of this Tavern had been troubled by a particular ruffian, and before he'd found a table Jorg had accidentally tripped the man into a table.

Violence wasn't always the best course of action, but on this occasion...well there was no excuse he'd really just wanted to do it. A smile touched his lips as he looked at the little stain of blood where the man had fallen, the ale sliding down his throat.

Things were good.

He didn't know what could possibly go wrong at this point.
 
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Jorg

A hooded figure cast its gaze up to the sky. Thick ribbons of cobalt, malachite, and indigo went rippling across the night sky as auroras shot through an arrow of Blood stars, their crimson aura glinting against an ebony sky.

A puff of condensation went swirling out of the woman's mouth, face half-hidden save for the lower portion, revealing a dusky, pale gray complexion as it panned from left to right, searching -- listening.

After a second the woman in black froze, body stretching taut. Her nostrils flared as if sniffing the air. Adrenaline shot through her veins, and jerking towards the right, she began to rush forward. Off in the distance, a loud, animalistic screech tore through the night, resonating with enough of a chill to stab its way down the spine.

The town of Julin was just over this ridge. A quiet, typical town. Idyllic in its entirety. Unaware of the terror that would soon be inflicted upon it.
 
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Jorg

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The night continued on, and the carousing began.

"That's a mighty big sword you got there."​

One of the tavern wenches sitting on his lap said, smiling at him, and batting her big doe eyes like they would somehow manage to hypnotize him. Jorg smiled up at her. "Well thank you, it comes in handy during the ni-"

He glanced at his sword resting against the table.

"Oh you mean that." He said with a smile. "It isn't any bigger than most. Do you want to touch it?"

The girl giggled, her lips parting as though she were about to speak when the night was suddenly interrupted by a horrid screech echoing through the valley. The sound resounded loud enough that some had to cover their ears, lips thinning as horror dawned on their faces.

"What was that!?"

"The fuck."

"What in the hell."​

Half a dozen people stood up and began to mill around the room, some glancing out windows while others downed their drinks. Jorg watched the room with a frown, feeling an odd intuition in his chest.

The Wolf didn't like this. "Well darling. You may get to see my sword in action sooner than I'd thought."

Jorg said with a frown, not sure how the hell he got himself into this shit.

Taboo
 
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Jorg


The woman's lung seemed to strain under the rush of movement, doing her best to keep up. Her steps were light, but she was unfamiliar with this terrain, making it more difficult for her to really move quickly. She'd been tracking the Wi’tigo for the past week. It had made mincemeat of a hunter near the caverns of Os'tar, a bit too close for comfort to the entrance of a drow community that would bear the brunt of the blame should it not be proven otherwise.

Not that the full-bloods would care about her efforts. They might even welcome a chance for a fight.

Grimacing under the hood of her hood, Taboo sidestepped and jumped over the trunk of a fallen tree. She was a dark blur in the night, leaves and twigs snapping under the weight of her boots and slapping against her arms.

She wasn't fast enough to stop it though. She never was. Skidding to a stop, chest rising and falling with quickened breath, ruby pupils stared out into the distance where the tall, rail-thin creature with a rack of sixteen point antlers gave another screeching howl, searching for its next meal. It had a sunken face and eyes that glowed like ember coals. It had a dark, tragic beauty to it really. There was a fleeting emotion of guilt. It wasn't her fault for what it had become.

Her bloodlust would only become worse and her ability to infect others with her evil would lash out with impunity.

Both creatures seemingly stared at each other for a second, before the Wi'tigo made its way into the town. The first gurgling cry of fear and pain quickly followed after that.
 
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Jorg

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Another scream echoed out, a blood curdling call of distress and sheer terror that was enough to give even Jorg goosebumps. The girl on his knee glanced towards the door, her eyes wide and terrified as she scooted herself closer to him.

Ordinarily he would have seen this as opportunity knocking, but...even he wasn't so depraved as to take advantage of something like this. "Love, I'm going to need you to get off my lap."

The girl looked at him incredulously.

"You can get back on it later, not to worry." He offered with a smile, reaching for his sword as he gently nudged the woman free.

"What are you doing? Let the town watch handle whatevers out there!"​

In truth Jorg would have liked nothing more than to do just that, but the wolf at the heart of him wouldn't let it rest. He could smell the fear in the air, rife with the scent of blood just around the corner. Something evil was lurking, something not too far from himself.

His head shook. "Don't you worry, Love. I'll be back to break your heart."

Jorg adjusted his armor, and then headed towards the door. He pushed it open, stepping out into the street...just in time to nearly be trampled by a horse running and whinnying in fear as it passed him by.
 
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Jorg

"Olat dos!" the drow curse went ripping from dark lips, mouth curling back in unpleasure. The metallic scent of blood was in the air, melding with the acrid smell of piss and excrement.

Fire seemingly shot from her eyes, the woman slinking past the town's entrance, skimming to a stop to try and discern the direction that the Wi'tigo went. There was precious little time. The more she killed and ate the more powerful she could become.

Another blood-choked scream came from the woman's left, drawing her attention. There down an alleyway, near a shop with the sign of an apothecary. Around her, she could practically feel the fear bleed from the town's inhabitants as they did their best to stay away from windows, deciding that the town guards would be the best ones to fight whatever wild creature found its way here.

Up ahead, a pair of voices gave shouts. The guardsmen holding torches high over their head, searching for what was going on. They didn't know any better.

"Get away from here!" she shouted, her voice a low growl of warning.

But it was too late.
 
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Jorg

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As Jorg stepped out into the road he heard the screams of someone else. Pure horror and terror ruptured into the air, and he couldn't help the goosebumps that crawled over his flesh.

There was a ring as his sword flew from it's scabbard, the bright silvery blade reflecting the moonlight as he slowly began to step forward and towards the screams. Jorg knew he was no monster hunter, knew that it wasn't his place to find whatever the hell this was, but...the wolf called.

He did not know what it wanted, did not know what the rumble within his chest meant, but something drove him forward.

As he stepped past the square of the building he caught sight of just what he was facing.

Two of the City Watch stood proud in their leathers, one wielding a shamble of a sword while the other clutched tight to a spear. Before them stood a monster the like which he had never seen before. Horns grew from it's head, ribs showed in it's side.

It moved like a hunter, pouncing upon the guardsmen and carving into their flesh before either had even a chance to raise their weapons.

Blood splattered over the snowy ground, crimson spraying onto the earth as the two men were rent into naught but tiny bits. "Fuck."

Jorg breathed, noticing a woman standing on the far side of the square.
 

Taboo

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Jorg

The Wi'tigo gave another screech, blood dripping thickly from its sharp fangs, coating its face and antlers, with chunks of flesh still clinging to its razor-sharp claws. There was no time, not even for the other imbecile who decided to take a closer look at what the dark had wrought. The predators were already out at night, clouding the mind with blood, fear, adrenaline, and the desire to hunt.

With a drow curse flowing from her mouth, she ran towards the Wi'tigo, only to skid down on one knee on the slick ground drenched in blood. Swirling her hands around the thick, gloppy fluid, she drank in the energy of that spilled lifeblood and wrought it out through her hands.

Bleed.

It was a singular thought, blood magic charging through her veins and sending arcs of dark energy towards the Wi'tigo, searching for old scars that had wrought that stark hide. Her eyes shone blood red, and the dark tendrils of energy marred ink marks along with her eyes.

In front of her, looming overhead, the Wi'tigo gave a shrill agonizing scream, wounds seemingly starting to appear where old scars had once sealed them shut. In that instant, went swiping at Taboo with those ferocious claws aimed for her head.
 
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Jorg

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"HEY GET THE HELL O-" Jorg suddenly cut himself off as the woman who'd just slid down the hill suddenly had her eyes turn a bright red.

The words of warning died on his tongue, as the creatures suddenly began to scream, blood appearing on it's flesh as wounds upon it's body seemed to open up out of nowhere.

Now Jorg was no idiot. He had been around the block enough to meet a mage or two in his day, and the connection between a woman showing up with red glowing eyes and the monster suddenly starting to manifest wounds was so simple even he could figure it out. "Oh..."

The man said quietly in understand.

Yet the monster had seemingly made the same connection. It charged at the woman, and Jorg let out a curse as he drew his sword and ran forward. Fear spiked in him, but he rushed the creature as it swiped towards the woman, his own sword coming down in a quick strike to hamstring the beast.
 
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Jorg

The crash of a sword edge against the razor-sharp claws of the Wi'tigo resonated against Taboo's pointed ears, prompting her to jerk her head back with a savage wince. At least it wasn't her head that had been lopped off, but there was little time for thank yous. Not that Taboo was going to give it. She was frustrated, annoyed, and would have preferred to handle the cursed Wi'tigo on her own -- and not have to deal with imbeciles that would only feed more power to the creature she was attempting to stop.

Sliding against a pool of slippery blood, the half-drow took another glop of blood, dirt, and waste into her fingers, the acrid scent burning her nostrils. As the Wi'tigo gave another screech and attempted to attack the man, Taboo called forth another charge of magic, the blood on her fingers transforming from a bright crimson red to a dark, oily slick as the life energy seemed to be sucked right out of it.

Another deep gash opened along the Wi'tigo's ribcage where keloid scars had once healed over, ripped open by the desire and the sheer will being hammered out from the half-drow.

It reacted with another ear-piercing cry, the sound resonating within the alleyway, sending people hiding within closets and under tables behind closed doors. It grew angrier, this time focusing on Jorg as its intended victim, seeming to lung straight at him with a savage pounce.
 
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Jorg

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Claws swiped at him again and again, slicing like razor sharp knives in their best attempt to take off his head. Half of the blows misses as he stepped back, shuffling with every step and letting his blade flicker upward two or three times in slow passive deflections.

The Monster, whatever it was, wanted blood.

Jorg could see it in it's eyes. He could see by the way that it shifted and stepped towards him. This thing was not a hunter, it was not trying to eat. It wanted to kill, and right now it wanted to kill him.

The wolf inside of his head began to growl, the cage within his mind bending and flexing as it began to flex it's muscles. Yellow bled slowly into his iris', shifting only slightly so that he could trace the beasts steps a little bit better.

His blade flickered against claws, using the beasts own momentum to shifted the trajectory of his blade. The sword swooped low and cut into the creatures leg. A flicker of blood appearing among those mysterious ones that the Drow was forcing open.

At least he assumed that's what it was. "Kill the damned thing!"

He shouted as his muscles tensed.
 
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Jorg

Kill the damn thing? As if this was easy? Irritation ignited the coronea's of the half-drow's eyes, flashing a bright crimson hue.

"Oh, like you are doing any better?!" Taboo snarled out in drow, gathering more of the crimson liquid into her fingers only to slap her hands back into the air, sending a smattering of droplets around her. It wasn't to do anything specific, more that she needed room to slink back and get into a better position to see where the wounds were and where she could find old scars to open. Unlike with rune magic, blood magic was primal at its core. There was no need for incantations, for drawing symbols, or for even making any distinct motions with her hands.

The problem was, she was limited to what wounds were already on the Wi'tigo. She couldn't make or inflict new gashes -- and the cost for using this sort of magic was high. Circumstances meant that the two dead guards provided enough blood for her to use to pay the price. Without them required her own sacrifice, something she was limited in use. Anything else would require taking the life right from the environment around her and the more she did so the more dead things would start to pile up.

She didn't need to give the townsfolk any more reason to put her up on a pyre. As it was, anyone coming up would see her half covered in blood and imagine that she was part of the Wi'tigo's bloody wake.

With another mental jerk, she tore open other scars, blood spilling into the ground with another feral scream of the creature. This much blood loss would slow the Wi'tigo down, make it unsteady.

Hopefully long enough to do something about it.
 
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Jorg

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The woman spoke in an oddly guttural sing song language that he did not understand. Confusion pulled over his face, and just for a brief second Jorg felt himself get pulled off balance.

"What the fuck does that me-" For his words Jorg suddenly received a claw to the chest.

Razor sharp bone cut through chainmail like it was butter. Jorg let out a grunt of pain as he felt the monster claw dig into his chest, three lines of red appearing as though they had been carefully etched by a master craftsmen to be just right.

The pain of it lanced through him, and he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from letting out a scream.

Of course the monster did not cease it's assault. Even with the loss of blood, even as its movement slowed and became sluggish, there was still an edge of death to the creature. As soon as it cut Jorg the breast tried to pounce on him, it's maw falling open as it half lurched forward. A curse escaped the werewolf and he quickly raised his sword.

As the Wit'igo jumped Jorg stabbed the blade upward. Silver steel net flesh, and the blade punched through the monsters jaw and out the back of its head.
 
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Jorg

There was little time to think. It was all reactionary. From the time the Wi’tigo slashed at the man’s chest until the sword burst from behind the Wi’tigo’s head in a spray of pink and crimson brain matter and blood.

More dark blotches of wet blood went splattering across Taboo’s face. There was no chance to wipe it away, only act.

Because in between those two actions by the man and the Wi’tigio, the half-drow felt the lurch of something else. It was also feral. Unknown. Close. Too close.

There was no mistaking her senses. Nostrils flaring, she went lurching behind the creature to attempt to grab at the bastard sword dropped by one of the fallen guards. With her other hand, with the fresh blood spilling from the creatures antlered head, she mentally yanked as hard as she could to bring torrents of blood from the now opened would. The blood spilling forth fed the magic, again turning that brackish hue.

The creature gave a choked scream, but it came out as a gurgle. It’s scrawny, y’all frame gave one last writhe, before it shuddered, it’s body attempting to fall forward onto Jorg.
 
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Jorg

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Jorg ripped his sword free, taking a step to the side as the Wi'tigio's body suddenly slumped and began to fall forward towards him.

There was a loud thud as the creatures corpse crashed onto the ground right where he had been standing, blood quickly pooling beneath it as the myriad of wounds finished what his sword had started. His lips thinned as he gazed at it.

The beast was not like anything he'd ever seen before. Twisted and broken, somehow warped and...disturbingly similar to a manged version of the Wolf in his head. "What the fuck is this thing?"

Jorg said, looking up at the woman with a frown.

It was then that he really took her in for the first time. Her ears were pointed like an elf's, her skin was a pale grey, and odd splotch marks carried around her eyes. She was...odd. Not human, definitely not human.

A witch?

His head turned towards the villagers still scurrying about. If she didn't have a good explanation things would go badly.
 
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Jorg

Taboo didn’t bother to reply. She didn’t have time to explain why she didn’t have time to explain— much less in Common.

There was a sticky black and red mixture of blood on her. One was fresh, the other smelled decayed and putrid, as if left out in the open for weeks to decompose. A residue of the blood magic she used, for she was essentially taking the energy of fresh blood to suit her own needs, the end result turning into something decayed and dead.

A stumble then half a grimace, the half-drow got up on one knee, balancing with the bastard sword in one hand and a wounded arm with the other. Her focus was on the Wi’tigo, those crimson pupils unwavering.

I have precious little time,
she thought, stumbling over to the carcass and the wounded man. Without further ado and well aware that in minutes the other villagers would show, she kicked the carcass of the wi’tigio to roll it onto its back. The next second she drove the sword into its chest to rip the ribcage open. Dropping the sword, she bent down to plunge both hands into its chest to rip out its heart.
 
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Jorg

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What the hell was going on? "What the hell are you doing?"

Confusion pulled across his features as the woman began to work on the corpse in the middle of the town square, her blade cutting and slicing as her hands reached into the corpse.

"Look you ca-" There was a loud squelch noise as she ripped out the beasts heart and Jorg couldn't help but wince slightly. He had seen gore before, hell, a couple of weeks ago he'd watched as the wolf ripped out a deers heart and ate it, but that wasn't why he was wincing.

With the monster now gone the villagers had poked their little heads outside, and Jorg could see half a dozen of them standing and watching her.

It would not end well.

"You can't do that here." He whispered. "These people are simple country folk, idiots...morons. They'll think you're a witch."

Which she probably was...but she'd also saved his life.
 
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Jorg

The glower of annoyance laden with a silent, you think? was sent directly to the man's direction. With a savage jerk of her knife, she severed the heart, the organ still beating within her hand as if the creature was still alive.

"Her. Not. Dead. Yet." it was broken singsong Common as if she struggled with the proper use of the words and meanings.

Coming to her feet, her nostrils gave a slight twitch. There were already so many different odors in the air. Had she picked up on it incorrectly? She gave a heavy deadpan stare at Jorg before taking a couple of steps to the right, attempting to reach for the fallen torch the dead guards had carried.

Of course, right behind her, a woman cried out in alarm, pointing at Taboo with a frightened snarl and prejudiced outcry, "It's one of those drow! It's brought this creature here! She's the cause of it!"

"Good for nothings... always causing trouble! Look at the dead we now have!"

While her speed picked up a bit, Taboo made no attempt to counter anything they said. She was well used to the prejudice and the accusations. Even the incorrect label of being a full-blood. Reaching down, she took the torch, dropping the bloody, beating heart onto the floor, fully intending to burn the bloody thing with the flames.

Behind her, unbeknownst to the gathering crowd as their focus was on the bloody woman, the Wi'tigo's body's claws slowly began to twitch and move.
 
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Jorg

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Drow.

One of the villagers said it, and as soon as Jorg heard the word everything clicked and fell into place. The skin, the ears, even the magic. He'd encountered Drow before, though it had not exactly been a...kind sort of meeting.

The bastard had tried to knife him.

It was not the words of the villagers that really mattered though, but hers. She spoke quickly, terse, but the words made him cringe. Not dead? He'd practically impaled the goddamn thing through the face. Jorg was about to open his mouth and rebuke her, but then he saw the creature twitch.

"Shit." He said as his face dropped. "Do what you need to do."

Jorg told her as he stepped forward. "Get the fuck out of here!"

He screamed at the villagers.

"SHE'S A WITCH!"

"SHE BROUGHT THAT THING HERE!"​

Prejudice and anger bled through already, and the monster slowly began to crawl.
 
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Jorg

The roar and chanting of the witch-hunters only hid the gargled whizzing sound coming from the Wi'tigo. Barely the sound of sizzling flesh as the torch head hit the pulsing heart when the Wi'tigo gave a sudden lurch, coming to its clawed feet, the enormous, ragged hole where the sword had entered dripping blood. It didn't matter that Jorg had stabbed it right in the middle of its face -- it was a cursed entity that would continue until the heart was burned and the head cut off.

The sudden return of the creature as it lurched to a villager to attack sent the rest of the townsfolk scattering.

"CUT. OFF. HEAD!" The broken, singsong common would slap Jorg into action, the half-drow too busy trying to ensure that the entirety of the heart would burn. Each sizzle seemed to make the Wi'tigo screech and scream, desperate for more blood to keep it alive and awake, needing to feed to heal itself.
 
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Jorg

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Jorg didn't need to be told twice.

With all the speed of a hunting wolf he surged forward. His blade flashed from the moonlight as he closed the distance between himself and the monster. A villager let out a loud scream as the beast rushed forward, but Jorg was upon it too fast.

Yellow bled into his eyes and his canines grew, his blade falling upon the creatures neck before it could reach one of the women who had shouted at Taboo.

Silvery steel flashed through flesh, and with a spurt of blood the Wit'tigo's head suddenly went flying separated from it's body. A loud squelch noise could be heard as the head landed onto the ground, a thud following quickly as the corpse tumbled onto the ground.
 
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Jorg

The Wi'tigo gave a shudder, twitching one last time upon the ground, its near skeletal body broken and no longer cursed by that which had made her into the twisted creature not long ago. As the last vestiges of the heart turned black and shrunken due to the fire, the shape of the Wi'tigo seemed to shrink. Within seconds, where the headless body of the Wi'tigo once lay was a naked one of a woman. The horned head now a bloody, gory mess of dark locks and what used to be a female's face, unrecognizable to all.

Tossing the torch to the ground, Taboo drew her head up, those red pupils staring out onto the startled, scared crowd of villages and blood-soaked bodies. One could smell the shit and fear in the air. It would only take a few minutes for them to come at her again. Taboo knew it.

Without a word, she began to walk off, turning on her heel to head towards the town's exit. Not that the villages gave her any spare seconds to spare.

"WITCH! GET HER! She will do this to us too!"

A snarl grew on Taboo's upper lip. Of all the things to now have to deal with. A man to the left attempted to grab her, only for her to dodge quickly to the right. However, get enough villagers and it would be easy to take the half-drow down in minutes unless she began to do something about it -- and there would be nothing nice about it.
 
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Jorg

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"HEY!" Jorg's voice said as he suddenly took three large steps back towards Taboo and flipped his bloody sword.

The monsters blood splattered onto the ground.

"Back off!" The yellow was till in his eyes, giving off a soft sort of glow within the pale light of the dark. "She saved your lives!"

"She's a witch! She brought that damned thing here to kill us!"

The logic of idiots never ceased to amaze him. "THEN WHY WOULD SHE KILL IT!"

His voice boomed out, and it seemed to stop some of the villagers from coming forward, yet someone else let out a yell. Jorge tensed, and in the air he could smell the fear. It was like they simply couldn't understand, like in their head they couldn't comprehend.

"Look at his eyes! He's one of em!"

Shit.

"Fuck this." Jorg declared. "You can die to the next monster."

With a huff he stepped off, turning around and following after Taboo. The villagers wouldn't stop of course, but he didnt want to hurt any of them until he had to.
 
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Jorg

It was instinct really. It came with the sting of a thousand needles down Taboo's spine. At first she'd thought it was the Wi'tigo. Now, with her death, the distinct stink of a predator filled the half-drow's senses. The villagers were not the only ones with their hackles raised.

That bastard sword she'd procured had already come up to protect herself it a wayward villager was attempting to grab her again -- but the cry of fear drew her attention, her head turning sharply towards the origin. From there it was a straight shot to the catlike eyes of the man who'd sliced off the Wi'tigo's head.

Twin pair of ruby pupils went narrowing down upon him, wary. Not that there was much time for her to react. Two unfamiliar beings, drow or not on to of the Wi'tigo was one too many.

A butcher who'd come out of his shop with a large machete took a swing at Taboo's direction. Another guard went rushing at Jorg.

With a curse spat at their idiocies, Taboo took her still bloody hand and a sheer pulse of power went lashing out, searching for old wounds that would assist in incapacitating either one. One was a small eyebrow scar over the right side of the butcher's temple. Headwounds were always such bleeders, perhaps enough to distract and blind him.

Or piss him off more as he began yelling that the witch attacked him.

For Alyistree's sake!
 

Jorg

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As the guard came towards him Jorg quickly swung his blade high. Steel clashed against steel, a flash of odd blue light erupting as the two blades bounced off one another.

Before the man could take a second step Jorg reached out and grabbed his armor, dragging him forward and placing his leg between his to trip him onto the floor. The guard flailed, dropped his sword, and then fell into the muck. "FUCK OFF!"

Jorg shouted at the ignorant masses.

"We're lea-" He suddenly found himself pelted in the chest with a rock, his fingers tightening on a sword as another one came, and then another.

"GET OUT OF HERE MONSTERS!"

Anger swept over him, eyes bleeding yellow as he stared back towards the unwashed masses. His fingers tightened on his sword, but he quickly turned and rushed up towards where Taboo and the butcher were.

As the man screamed Jorg grabbed the nap of his neck, drawing him back and tossing him into the muck. "Let's get out of here."

Another rock struck his back.

Taboo
 
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