Fable - Ask Two Taboos

A roleplay which may be open to join but you must ask the creator first
Why was it that women consistently kept to the worst personality traits that one might possibly find in any area of life? It was like the world wanted him to be as annoyed as physically possible at all times.

A huff escaped him. "Why don't you stick to your own monsters?"

Jorg asked the drow with a scowl.

"Where did that other thing come from anyway? The Wit'igo." Was that what she had called it? The name didn't exactly roll off the tongue in the common...tongue, but he was pretty sure that she had called it as such.

"The Underrealm?" He prompted. "Wiggled it's way out from under a rock?"
 
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|| Jorg ||

Oh did she manage to find a chink in his armor? A weak chain where she struck her dagger to reveal the ugly truth that the cursed man did not want to come face to face with. Likely.

Men were all the same. In reference, of course, to Humans. They were graced with such blessings above ground only to set themselves to ruin.

A dark arch of a brow and a flash of crimson pupils in his direction indicated some measure of sadistic pleasure at his peturbness.

"Human woman. Cursed. Like you." she said simply. A small gesture indicated the general direction of the south.

"But different. Not her fault. Accident. Went mad. Killed child. Grew worse. Too late for her."

A mirror of what his own fate would likely be.
 
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"Well she was probably an idiot." Jorg said, though of course he didn't really mean it.

He had seen what those curses could do to people, what it felt like to lose control to it. He well understood that whatever form of Lycanthropy he'd contracted was unique in a way. Communicating with the Wolf within was...rare.

At least, that was what he had always assumed.

Jorg did not know the truth of the matter, the reason why his little deal actually function. The reason that he had been able to stay alive for so long. The touch of a goddess was difficult to ignore, even for a Wolf.

"Haven't slaughtered a single village." He said simply. "Most don't even see me as a monster."

A dig back at her.
 
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|| Jorg ||

The man's quip was met with one of Taboo's own.

"That remember." point-blank, black brow raised high. "Curse takes mind. No recollection." She brought her arms up to cross them over her chest as if daring him to tell her that he would remember everything since he was infected.
 
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"Maybe you don't know half as much as you think you do." Jorg said with a scowl.

He actually did remember nearly everything. There were only a few details missing, and those had been at the very beginning of it all. Even those memories still lurked somewhere within the depths of him, swimming within murky waters.

Jorg did not want to remember those.

"I can see behind it's eyes." He cursed. "Every bite, every rake of the claw, every drop of blood on it's tongue."

He could feel it...remember it. The thought made him want to vomit.
 
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|| Jorg ||

Now that sparked a measure of interest. Certainly, Taboo had not enjoyed her time working with the Fullblood as his forced assistant, but it did provoke a certain amount of curiosity. She could not help that her childhood years were spent on watching various creatures react to different experiments and concoctions. Leaning forward, the half-blood's head gave a cant to the right in interest, those ruby eyes glittering.

"You remember?" now that was very, very interesting.

"How much?" in that singsong broken Common.
 
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Jorg smiled for a brief moment. So there was something the damned Drow didn't know. That made him feel a certain spike of smugness. Lips twinged, and he slowly leaned back as though he was suddenly full of something she had no idea of.

"Everything." Mostly.

There were those bits that he blocked out, but that was him. The Wolf had never hid anything...or rather hadn't been able to. Even his transformations were clear as day, and when he was shifted he could watch whatever he wanted from behind the wolf's eyes.

Most often he chose not to, for even hunting beasts was usually a tad...gruesome. "Enough to know it keeps it's side of the bargain."

He was still smug about that.
 
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|| Jorg ||

Part of the Half-Drow wondered if she could take him at his word. The way the corner of his mouth twitched in certain smugness gave her doubts. However, other than being chased by humans for being a halfbreed or seeing them as experiments, their mannerisms were hard to read.

A shrug, but she was none the less interested.

"Rare. The ones in past do not." she simply stated, mulling on why this could be. Blast it, it really made her curious as much as the thought of the curiosity churned her belly. Why would there be such a deal? The curse was a curse. It made men mad. Crazed.

Unless this wasn't a typical curse?

"How you get?"
 
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He frowned.

Jorg had told the story a thousand times. Witches, healers, doctors, even a Sorcerer or two had all heard it over the years of his desperation. He had done his best to find a way out, and unfortunately had never been able to even get a glimpse.

That was when he'd made the deal of course. "In the Spine."

He explained.

"I was part of a Mercenary Company Guarding the High Hand Pass." He still remembered that night. "We were out hunting for food, turns out that we were the ones being hunted."

A shiver ran down his spine. "If Mallia hadn't been watching over me the damned thing would have slaughtered me for sure. Too busy eating the others with me."

At least that was what he'd always assumed.
 
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|| Jorg ||

The mention of this, 'Mallia' would prompt a frown upon the Half-Drow's face, her expression twisting in confusion.

"Mallia?" perhaps was this another magic user? Or maybe there was something else? There was no hiding her interest as she leaned a little bit closer as if to hear better what Jorg had to say.
 
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"The Goddess of the Wilds." Jorg explained with a shrug.

Of course, he'd never made an actual connection between the Goddess and his own predicament. She was very real of course, but the idea that she would ever have actually intervened on his behalf was about as laughable as possible.

"Mallian, my city is named for her." He continued on. "It's just an expression. I"m sure your people have Gods too."

Didn't they? He assumed.
 
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|| Jorg ||

Goddess of the Wilds? That was the first time that Taboo ever heard about her. The rather blank, if perplexed expression relayed that much to Jorg.

It took a bit to understand what he meant. So a god? Not someone of flesh and bone? Ah. Dawning realization came to her then. The Full bloods had their pantheon. To be frank, Taboo had yet to see or bear witness to anything that could remotely be considered to be akin to that.

"No other? All to that tale?" it didn't seem any different from the other stories she'd heard before or bore witness to. Which mean that she went back to square one, where he was just another cursed man. Likely a crazy one to think he had some sort of pack with the monster within.
 
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"Not really." He said witha frown, trying to remember more about what had happened.

"My wounds healed faster than they should have, and I stayed with the Company until my first full moon." A frown touched his lips. "That first transformation I got knocked around by the Wizard, but I don't think that had anything to do with it."

At least he was pretty sure.

"That first year I mostly just tried to kill myself." He told Taboo, now somewhat lost in the story. "The Deal didn't come until year two."
 
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|| Jorg ||

Knocked around by a Wizard?

"Viz--vizard?" Or was it wizard. What was that? Again, the Half-Drow's face would scrunch up in confusion. He was using words that she did not understand.

The part about killing himself, she could. She'd seen plenty of attempts at it for those who were cursed. Some were successful. Others were not. The majority had to be dealt with separately.
 
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"Sorcerer." There was a difference between the two but he didn't think now was a time to go into that little bit of detail. "A mage?"

That would make more sense perhaps.

Jorg remembered the Wizard of the Company more than well enough. The bastard had always been too clever for his own good. When Jorg had turned he'd tried to impale him with some sort of odd black magic spear...that had hurt.

He still had the scar. "Don't think that has anything to do with it though. Fucker just knifed me."
 
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|| Jorg ||

The dawning realization swept over the Half-Drow's face again. So a magic-user. Her right hand came up, one dark-tipped finger tapping the line of her jaw.

"Yes. No." as if indicating that it could be. "Magic unknown. Many paths." again, her broken Common made it a little difficult to understand, but the general gist was there.

Another roll of her shoulder in conjecture.
 
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Jorg shrugged. He very much supposed it could have been the mage, but the man hadn't been trying to help him. Not at all in fact. The entire Band had turned on him as soon as they had found out what he'd been turned into.

Half of him couldn't blame them for it either. "Maybe, but I doubt it. I think whatever strain I got ju-"

Jorg found himself interrupted by the loud hooting of a Wild's owl. His head instantly turned, spotting the black and green bird sitting in the tree just to the left. It stared at him, head half turned. "Huh."

He said with a frown.

"Never seen one this far west." Wild's Owls, as the name implies, were bird of prey within the Ixchel Wilds. To find one here was strange.
 
|| Jorg ||

The sound startled the Half-Drow, turning her dark head towards the sound of the call. She hadn't heard it before. Again, she'd been tracking the Wi'tigo for days before reaching the human settlement.

"What that?" she asked, alarm over her face and wariness darkening the shadowy spots around her eyes. Had she that sword, she'd have clutched it in her palm.
 
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"Wild's Owl." He said with a shrug of his shoulder, not really thinking it a big deal that the bird would be here.

Birds flew all around the world after all, why would it be weird that one was here?

"Usually don't come this far west." He explained to Taboo. "But they're harmless enough...unless you're a lizard, or a rat."

The reason they were famous was mostly due to the stories of them acting as eyes of Mallia. Just stories of course, Wild's Owls were some of the most common animals in all of Ixchel, of course they would be nearly anywhere something happened.
 
|| Jorg ||

A Wilds Owl. She'd never heard of them. The Half-Drow had heard owls before but this was different. It made the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end. A bit half grumbly, she rearranged herself, looking back at the man.

"Not all harmless." she indicated, meaning that there was always more than met the eye when it came to creatures of the dark. She'd seen her fair share of them, either magic born or created by man.
 
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He shrugged. "They've never done wrong by me."

One would have thought he'd connected the dots by now.

"Most of the time they just like to watch you." Jorg explained, glancing at the Owl for a few more moments before he shrugged his shoulders again and deciding that staring at the damned thing was a bit too creepy. "My father says they're Mallia's eyes."

If you believed that sort of thing. "But she doesn't mean you any harm either."

Unless you threatened the Wilds anyway.
 
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|| Jorg ||

Fine. So it was a harmless owl. Meant that the most dangerous thing was the man in front of her. After a moment of looking around, she said flatly, "I rest. Then leave."

Rather pointing out the end goal. As long as he didn’t harm her, she’ll leave him be. Well, or go near drow lands.

Someone eventually will take care of him. It was not her problem if he seemed to have some sort of control over it. No matter how curious she was about it.

Of course she promptly then asked, “how long cursed?” She tried to recollect if he’d mentioned a full time frame.
 
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He shrugged his shoulders.

As long as the girl didn't run off and get herself murdered within five minutes of him going through all the effort of saving her she could do whatever she wanted. It had really only bothered him because he had put in the effort.

Seemed rude to throw it all away. "Four...five years?"

It was hard to recall now.

The deal had been struck some time ago, and the majority had been spent simply wandering from place to place as he sought out somewhere he and the Wolf could both be comfortable. He'd thought of going home once or twice...but always decided against it.
 
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|| Jorg ||

Four to five years? The Half-Drow gave a sudden frown. That didn't make sense. Most cursed were dead by now. Only a rare few who seemed to maintain some level of intelligence and slyness remained alive.

"So only bitten? Nothing else?" she inquired again, unable to help herself with questioning just what was different about this man that this so-called pact with the cursed being remained.
 
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"Bitten, chewed on, clawed up." He shrugged. "I told you I barely survived the whole ordeal."

Again. He never thought about the other protection that might have been offered him, the blessing that was greater than many ever received. The touch of a Goddess was a powerful thing, especially when it reached into the mortal plain.

The owl hooted off in the branches. "I was lucky. My father would say it was Mallia."

He told her softly.

"Most would have died from the wounds." Jorg knew that, he wasn't a fool.
 
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