Fable - Ask Two Taboos

[Taboo]

Jorg

Fear had a nasty way of feeding other emotions. It was fuel to the fire; burning wild and burning bright. Sure, whatever manner of being the man was - for he was no mere human- might have given the butcher and the other man a scare, but given enough time, fear will make people stupid.

Sure they were throwing rocks now but give it a few minutes the torches and pitchforks would come out. Or whatever else that was sharp to try and take a stab at them.

Jorg wasn’t the only getting hit but in the dark and with the leftover blood on the ground there were few options to take for throwing. None the less, it didn’t stop Taboo from moving as fast as she could.

All the while, she kept a watch on the man. Or whatever he was. Her instinct never lied to her.

Just as they passed the exit of the town- with a free stragglers making sure they left from a distance- Taboo gave him deep probing study if observation

the kind of expression that would be familiar to hunting. The sort that question if she should kill it now or later depending on how dangerous Jorg might be.

 

[Jorg]

Jorg raised his hands as Taboo stared at him.

She had a look about her, one that told she already knew there was something off about him. The Werewolf didn't know much about Drow, next to nothing in fact, but he doubted she could smell the Wolf on him.

At least hopefully not. "Villagers, huh?"

Jorg said with a shrug of his shoulders, realizing that he had left his bedroll back at the Inn. A quiet curse echoed from his lips, and briefly he wondered if sneaking back would be an option. After a few seconds he shook his head.

A bedroll wasn't worth his head.

"Want to go make a camp somewhere?" Company was always nice, and...well he wasn't entirely sure he was ready to let her walk away just yet.

 

[Taboo]

Jorg

Small talk was not one of the Half-Drow's strengths. In fact, the pan from the twin pair of smoky rimmed, ruby pupils' eyes gave the indication that she wasn't here to make friends or small talk.

There was something about him; something that threw off her senses. It usually how it was when it came to anything that just made her spine itch and her nostrils flare. Cough it up to years of having to manipulate blood for her magic. She knew what people thought that meant. How it was dark, corrupted magic.

Not like she had a choice in the matter.

Stumbling along, she gave a wince, staring down at her leg. She hadn't realized but she somehow managed to get slashed along her right calf. Great.

A series of drow curses went flowing under her breath, coming out in an accented, thick singsong. Turning towards him, she gave a gesture, as if shooing him away. Indeed, she did the quick swish of her right hand, as if indicating him to move along.

They both had to get out of her or else the villagers might become a little bolder and seek them out.

 

[Jorg]

Jorg glanced at her, then down at the wound on her leg.

Generally speaking he wasn't one to push the issue when someone didn't want to talk to him, but the woman had torn open the monster like it had been a piece of meat. He was more than a little interested in exactly how she'd managed that.

Not to mention what the damned thing had been in the first place. "Your legs injured."

He pointed out.

"I can bind it." He offered. "If you let me."

 

[Taboo]

Jorg

Panning to look at him, the Half-Drow was a sight to behold. Her clothing was saturated with blood, mud, and burrs. Even under the light of the moon, she was a mess, blood caked to her hair, over her face, and clinging to every surface. Her expression, however, was as deadpan as any.

A glance down to her calf and she gave another grimace. "Mine.. care." was her chopped up response in Common, indicating that she could take care of it herself. As if that was all, she began to hobble off, only to stagger for a moment, using her hand to brace herself against a nearby tree.

She'd been on her own for so long that she didn't need help. Not to mention there was something off about the man that didn't make her comfortable.

 

[Jorg]

"Yeah." Jorg called out sarcastically. "Doesn't really seem like it."

The mercenary knew he was probably pressing his luck.

He had no idea what Drow magic was like, but if he had to guess it was like every other magic he'd ever encountered. There was a toll taken on both mind and body, one that eventually every Mage had to suffer through.

From the looks of it she was the same. "Look I'm not gonna hurt you, just let me make sure no one else gets killed tonight."

He was still bleeding himself, but the cut wasn't as deep as the one she'd received.

The Wolf would help him heal fast enough.

Stepping forward Jorg tried to move a little ahead of her, taking the moment of her stalling to get in front of her.

 

[Taboo]

Jorg

As soon as the man made the motion of heading in front of her, the Half-Drow’s lips went curling into a bare tooth snarl of defensive wariness. Pearly white teeth shine under the light of the moon, and she gave a staggered step back as if expecting Jorg to lash out at her. It was enough of a tell to indicate that the woman had seen her fair share of abuse and attacks before, muscle memory tending her limbs as of bracing for a fight, her hand gripping the hilt if the bastard sword in a knuckle white, bloody slippery grip.

“Back!” She warned, pointing the end of her sword to his chest.

“I hurt!” it was more of a warning than an exclamation of her current state. Body language indicated that she would happily stab him with the pointy end if he got too close.

 

[Jorg]

Jorg immediately threw up his hands in the universal sign of surrender.

The way she screamed the words, the way she reacted was an obvious give away. A frown pulled at his lips, and once again he glanced down towards the woman's leg. More blood had pooled in the cloth around it, and even she didn't do something soon it was likely the damned thing would see her bleed out.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Jorg spoke slowly, more deliberately.

The Drow clearly understood him, had to given what took place in the village and the fact that she was yelling at him now. The language barrier didn't even really seem to be the biggest concern. Instead she looked ready to run him through.

"You're going to bleed out." One of his hands curled into a pointed finger and motion to her leg. "Let me help."

She'd saved his life back in the village, it was the least he could do.

Unlike the Villagers Jorg knew when there was a time to be thankful

 

[Taboo]

Jorg

Taboo was far more used to trying to deflect attacks than accepting assistance. Came from being the product of two worlds. Not quite a full-blood on either side. She was aware of her Drow heritage, but where the other half came from was unknown to her. Her survival at birth had ultimately been due to being found abandoned by Oman, who had used her more for free labor than any fatherly instinct. Those that lived below saw her as less than a being for being a half-breed, those above saw her as a monster who sadistically could cause trouble. Add on top of that how her magic drew its energy from, there was little she could do about perception or prejudice.

So hearing the man say he wasn't going to harm her only provoked an expression of disbelief upon her pallid visage. Glancing down, she studied her leg again. While she was able to rip open old scars, she wasn't able to do anything with her magic about open ones. There was always a give and take. In this, she'd yet to cross that bridge into anything more useful.

In her mind, thoughts would race. Such as the fact that she had no healing herbs nor bindings to tend to her wound. Nevermind the long trek she'll have to take to go back home. In this, he was correct. She would bleed out soon if she didn't take care of it.

Although she still held the tip of her sword up, at least she didn't presently seem to be considering running him through. Of course, this decision didn't mean that she wouldn't happily jump into it should he make a wrong move.

The Half-drow's expression vacillated between indecision, biting her lower lip. The tang of metallic blood coated her mouth, souring her expression.

Finally, she uttered a low, but melodic, terse, "How?" as if uncertain how he'd help her anyways.

 

[Jorg]

The sword was still up, but the tip waivered a bit.

He wasn't entirely sure if that was because she was considering his offer or because the loss of blood was making her weak...but either way it was better than it had been before. His gaze flickered around for a moment, mostly just seeing if someone had followed them.

Then she finally asked a quick, terse question. "I can tend to the wound. Bind it, make sure it doesnt get infected and get you to a place to rest."

They would have to travel a bit farther in order to get away from the village. If the townspeople spotted a fire nearby they were likely to gather themselves a lynch mob to ensure the Drow and Monster weren't going to threaten them.

The thought sickened him.

"After that I can look for some herbs in the forest." Many of them here were the same as in the Wilds. At least close enough that he would be able to find them.

 

[Taboo]

|| Jorg ||

He didn't have the look of a shaman. More of a hunter. A predator. Dark lips gave a terse twist, before thinning into a thin line of distaste. This was one of the risks of hunting the Wi'tigo alone. She knew what she had to do and what would be the consequences if she was hurt or became subject to the curse itself. All due to some stupid idea that if she could stop anyone else from blaming the Full-bloods for the Wi'tigo's bloody massacre, then perhaps she could get some form of acceptance.

Un-bloody-likely.

Sinking back against the snow-dusted tree trunk, the Half-Drow peered up at the man, ever so wary, considering his proposition. A sweep from head to toe came next; from the top of his braided hair to the mud, blood, and other questionable fluids on his boots.

If he tried anything she could summon her power. Use her own blood to rip open any scars he had under that armor. That was the only bit of safety net she could hold onto. If he did anything, well she'd take him with her. He would not dance on her bleached bones that night.

A curt nod was Jorg's reply if albeit under protest.

 

[Jorg]

Jorg watched the curt nod, a relief coming over him.

At least he wasn't going to receive a stab wound along with the claw's that had already slashed him across his chest. That in it of itself was some sort of reward. He took a single slow step forward, making sure his motions were telegraphed.

"I'll bind the wound first." He told her.

When dealing with a wounded animal, one had to be careful. There was always a chance that they could lash out, and while this woman was no animal...she did have a sword. From the tunic he wore over his chainmail Jorg ripped a long strip of cloth.

With slow, telegraphed motions Jorg dropped to one knee in front of the woman, looking at the wound for a moment before he pulled away some of the cloth sticking to it. "This is...not good."

The Werewolf said as he looked up at her.

 

[Taboo]

Jorg

Taboo was no healer; the extent of her knowledge dealt with causing people to bleed, not heal them. Her nostrils gave a flare at the tone of his grave words, chin rising as if to say, so what?

"I. live." that was as much of a declaration as an indication that she wasn't going to let a wound like this take her to the next life.

"Fix." she simply stated, that tip of the blade ever lifted as if ready to strike. Her bedside manner was something she had to work on.

 

[Jorg]

Jorg looked up at her, a low groan rumbling through his throat.

He wasn't a healer by any means, but...well he would have to do his best. "This is going to hurt."

That was really the only warning that he could give as he reached up with the cloth and began to tightly wind it around her leg. It was hardly a long term solution, in fact it was pretty much the least that he could do.

Right now all he needed was to stop her from bleeding out.

"We need to get further away from the village." He said the words slowly. "Start a fire. Then I can fix."

Jorg was trying not to be patronizing.

 

[Taboo]

Jorg

The pain went lacing through her leg, up her thigh, and along her hip, provoking a garbled, grunt of agony that the Half-Drow did her best to keep the cry that threatened to fall from her mouth. It was a smothered, series of grunts, once that had her clasping a white-knuckled grip on the hilt of the bastard sword. At least the tip was now pointed to the ground.

Her leg gave an unconscious twitch while her chest gave a rapid rise and fall of agitated breath. Those red-pupils seemed to sear into Jorg's.

"Move. Must." she agreed in a grunt, already attempting to get up. Not far, the sound of yelling could be heard.

Of course, this would only go from bad to worse.

 

[Jorg]

Jorg stood up, sliding his arm beneath hers whether she wanted it or not. "Needs must."

The Werewolf quipped in quick explanation as he dragged her way onto himself and ensured that her leg didn't get much weight on it.

In the back of his head he knew it would have been faster just to scoop her up in his arms and carry her for the next eight miles, but he was pretty sure that if he tried that this woman would stab him in the throat multiple times.

Best to just take her along on his side. "That way."

Jorg said as he heard the yelling echoing out from behind him, his fingers grasping her side so that he could guide her steps.

 

[Taboo]

Jorg

There was little choice to be had. The faint flicker of torchlights was behind them by the trees. Someone decided to be brave and as equally as stupid.

Worthless, ungrateful humans.

A grunt and lift and Taboo was in her feet. The man snaked his arm behind her back and moved forward, the pair staggering as the Half-Blood swept a backward glance at the town.

Her features would twist in distaste. “ Ungrateful,” she swore in broken, melodic common.

She kept her grip on the sword, moving along as twigs and grit snapped and crunched under their boots. The yells and cries if the guards and the mob grew louder.

 

[Jorg]

"Tell me about it." Jorg said with a frown as he glanced back and spotted torch-light through the woods.

A curse escaped him.

He knew that they would never be able to outrun Guards, much less the mob. When people were angry they moved fast, and...right now the two of them were decidedly not fast. His gaze flickered to the sword in her hand, and then he let out a curse. "Don't stab."

Jorg felt a little silly saying it, but...

Without another word of warning his arm tightened a bit, and then he suddenly pulled her up and over his shoulder much as one might carry a large hog.

He hefted her weight for one a second, and then he burst into a sprint.

His steps fell heavy on the ground, his muscles flexed, but they tripled the pace they had before.

 

[Taboo]

|| Jorg ||

There wasn't much time to object. The man abruptly took her into his grip to swing her over his shoulder. She gave a loud, and painful grunt, the sudden thump winding her of the air in her lungs. She couldn't even yell at him in that odd language of hers, all she felt was the sharp ache of her diaphragm being struck. Her hood fell over her face and such was the strike that she, unfortunately, lost her grip on her sword. It went clattering to the ground.

"Where they go? Do you see them?" Called one villager.

"I saw them head this way!" came another.

"I found tracks!" this one in bloodthirsty eagerness.

The voices were getting closer, the torchlight the only visible cues to their location. As Jorg would move through the forest, the hoots of owls and the flutter of wings of roosting peasants managed to send a signal to their direction.

"Wait, do you see that!?'

 

[Jorg]

Jorg ran as fast as he could.

His steps slammed into the ground, leaving a clear trail. He would have done something to mask them, bu tit would take time, too much time. The mob still echoed out behind them, falling right on their tail as he rushed forward.

"The mountains?" He asked her as he moved, his chest rising and falling in quick succession.

Jorg wasn't entirely sure why he was even asking her. The Drow didn't exactly seem like the most communicative person and by now her wound would make her half woozy. His steps became faster, muscles tensing.

He allowed some of the Wolf to slip out.

Eyes bled into yellow, canines slowly grew, and somehow their speed increased as he cut through the forest and towards the mountains.

 

[Taboo]

|| Jorg ||

Somehow he picked up speed. Somehow, there was a brisk, almost animalistic stride to his increasing steps. As it was, the only thing the Half-Drow could see was his mud and blood splattered ass and the rushing of the ground.

"Neit!" Taboo would growl out in Drow, but the tone relayed the meaning. Not the mountains. There were far too many of her kind there and if they found the villagers, then the attempt to quell any attempts at fighting would be moot. Not far ahead, the sound of rushing water would grow. A river.

"River!"

 

[Jorg]

River? Well that was something he understood.

Almost in the same step as when she said the word Jorg turned. The weight of her nearly threw him off balance, but he managed to swing his momentum in the right direction and pull them just around a curve.

He had only the vaguest memory of where the River actually was, but the Drow's frantic pointing was more than clue enough that he was going in the right direction. He ran as fast as he could, half breaking into a wolfish stride as the sound of water could be heard.

Behind the the villagers could still be heard, the light of torches waving quickly.

"Hang on!" Jorg said as he ran forward, pushing himself even faster as he reached the bank and then suddenly jumping into the air once he reached the step of a large boulder.

 

[Taboo]

|| Jorg ||

It wasn't quite what Taboo intended. She was gesturing more towards following the banks of the river and perhaps crossing where it was shallow to the other side.

Not just diving into the deep end of the rushing water.

His exclamation was the only warning provided. At once they were airborne and the next second, went splashing into the ice-cold rushing water of the Sanjei River. Immediately Taboo sank, the saturated fabric of her cloak tangling up her arms and legs, lungs burning at what little air they had left. She hadn't the chance to get a proper intake of air prior to the fall, her sudden cry at feeling him jump lost in the waves of the river.

Panic would shot through her veins like wyld fire, a new type of desperation filing her.

She couldn't swim.

The current was strong, and white water would rush around them, the moonlight glinting off the wet obsidian rocks that were scattered among the stream.

 

[Jorg]

The water was fast, strong, but the Wolf pushed him through.

Ice rushed over him, clinging, biting, surging in cold. Yet the heat at his core carried him. The wolf surged, his muscles flexed and slowly he dragged the two of them forward. Every step was hard, every little movement difficult, but his hands clung to the Drow on his back.

Eventually he pulled them to the other side of the bank, his ears now tufted, his teeth as long and sharp as those of a Hounds. He glanced back, gazing towards the flickering torches. "H-h-hrang own."

The words were barely intelligible, a growl dragging through each of them as the Wolf bit at every word he spoke.

Without waiting for a reply, and shivering in freezing clothes Jorg rushed forward.

They needed to get just a little further, just a little further until they would be safe. His steps grew sluggish, but he kept moving.

 

[Taboo]

Jorg

Arms, legs and hands were scrambling to climb out onto the edge of the river, the Half-Drow gasping for air, lungs burning as they heaved.

It was lucky thing that Taboo’s flailing hadn’t made the swim across harder. Otherwise she’d have been liable to be the one who’d drown them both.

The man didn’t even give her tone to catch, already moving along, wet boots climbing up the slippery rocks to the embankment. Off in the distance one could hear the villages, but the currant had sent them a bit. If they had dogs then hopefully this would allow them to lose their scent.

All in all it was a good thing Taboo wasn’t able to discern the man’s shift. Otherwise he’d have had to deal with the woman also thinking that she’d have to kill him too.