Post by Daishilz on Jan 16, 2014 22:52:41 GMT -6
"You're not my Dai," The words repeated in his mind like a broken record, skipping and doomed to repeat the same lyric for all of time until it was fixed. Until something set it straight. They were the words of the young elven slave he had known from his time in the Mercenaries. A slave that by all right, should never have addressed him to begin with. A slave that, in this world, was not a slave.
The words were true enough, but he had cast her the fool in their meeting that day. That day when he fell from the sky into Stormwind Lake with his own anvil nearly crushing him. He thought back to his boiling rage as he carried the anvil beneath his left arm, walking flat against the lake floor as his ear protruded from the water like a little dorsal fin from a shark. The woman had looked at him as if she'd seen a ghost and in her world, she had. Dai spent the better portion of the day listening to her recant stories about "her Dai" and what he had been in this world. But she was a slave after all and he couldn't imagine the life of a slave to be one of fact. Surely the woman had simply retreated into her own mind and created a story so extravagant she believed it to be fact. That was the way slaves worked after all, wasn't it? Alas, in this world, she was not a slave.
The next day, after he'd left the woman's house with clothes that supposedly belonged to him, the oddities really took their effect. Smells seemed slightly different. Not everywhere, but the subtle changes were not lost on his worgen senses. At first he'd chalked it up to his recent absence from the city and spending all of his time in Tyr's, yet things still didn't click as they should. People he'd noted before were at times, off or different. Tempers were noticed, accents, stories, smells, attitudes and even scars were misplaced or all together missing. Surely the portal had simply fogged his mind or screwed with his senses.
He'd spent the majority of the second day flying to Tyr's Hand and back as fast as he could using his Nightwing form. After arriving he noticed the lack of people, or at least the lack of Kin. After a quick inspection of his forge, his fears were confirmed. Someone had teleported him to Stormwind and stole all of his smithing supplies! It had to be Cynthia. Who else would be using magic in his forge? If only he would have attended Olly's meeting instead of spending the night preparing the Hand for the next Horde attack, he could have been wise to this trick and possibly spotted her causing trouble! Or so, he thought. The second night proved uneventful as his tired, aching wings eventually gave out and forced him to take shelter in a tall oak tree for the night, feasting on a easily snagged, raw rabbit to replenish his energy.
The third morning he returned to Stormwind and to his studying of the people. "If nothing else, maybe I'm not the only one that was misplaced. Perhaps the dumb broad sent other people sprawling across Azeroth as well," he thought to his self. Eventually he found his way to the Slaughtered Lamb and his perception of reality would soon be shattered entirely.
Dollraema had entered the Lamb not long after he'd taken his seat and when he made his presence known, she had seemed almost in shock. She hugged the wolf before assaulting him with a overload of information. The reason he was there hadn't been because of Cynthia's misbehavings at all. It was due to Olly. The gnome. The gnome he had helped gather the materials for the wormholes in order to pull off some sort of switch of keeps. The little man that so often referred to his self as 'Great'. Knowing what he did now, about the alternate reality and the death of so many of the Kinship due to the gnome's experiment, Dai would make sure the only thing 'Great' about him when they next met would be the great example he made of the gnome.
The warrior did his best to remain calm as he brought the conversation to a close with Doll, then headed out into the night. His rage boiled inside of him with no release. No outlet. He had no smith, no weapons, no armor in which to vent his emotions. They were trapped inside of him like a...a...slave! A slave that was not a slave in this world, she was right all along. And that is what leads Dai to be in the predicament he's in.
After leaving the city gates, Dai took to the air once more in his nightwing form. He'd found a nice little perch to rest upon near a abandoned house in Westfall. At least he thought it was abandoned. The sound of panting and footsteps had woken him from his sleep as a trio of men approached from the direction of Sentinel Hill. He watched with a lackluster curiosity, hidden by the shroud of night and his ebony fur, as they disappeared into a cleverly disguised spider hole near the house. Soon after a patrol of soldiers had stormed over the horizon, obviously hunting the group. A string of curses and a tantrum by one of the soldiers lead to nothing aside from their turning and heading back to wherever it was they came from.
"No one can do what's right. Everyone has to push and push until they ruin what everyone else has!" the warrior thought as he watched the guards disperse. But not this time. If he were in a new world, he would help ensure people like Olly weren't around to destroy anything. Even these thieves, taking what wasn't theirs as Olly had taken the lives of everyone he was beginning to consider family. Some lives were taken literally, some metaphorically, but none would ever be the same. Now these bandits, these thieves, would pay for their crimes.
The nightwing leaps into the air and spreads his wings, gliding to the earth with a gentle thud before shifting back into his worgen form. The scent of the bandits and guards were still fresh, but both were fading quickly. Dai lifts the cover to the spider hole and peers inside, glancing down a long, steep tunnel that appeared to lead somewhere below the house. Falling on to all fours he crawls into the spider hole and allows the cover to fall back into place.
Inch by slow inch he makes his way down the tunnel, stepping cautiously as he peers before every step in case there were a trap or loose gravel that might betray his presence. These thieves were amateurs. They left nothing behind, no warning systems, no traps to alert them to a invading presence, it was easy prey for the approaching wolf. His remaining ear twitched at the distant sounds of laughter, gloating and the clank of glass bottles to what he could only imagine was a celebration of a job well done.
As he closes the distance between him and his targets, the warrior is suddenly thankful for his lack of armor and weapon. He couldn't rely upon them in such closed quarters and the rattling of the thick plate would have surely given him away by now. Not to mention his typical bladed shoulder pads would have left him no room for maneuvering. This fight would have to be done the old fashion way. Muscle against muscle. Claw and fang rending flesh from bone or simply cracking bone as easily as the humans would a chicken. This fight was what his bottled up rage was begging for.
"Right? Did you see that guards face when he finally caught on to us?! What do you think Johnny?" one of the men asked as they turned towards their counterpart. But Johnny didn't speak. Johnny sat still, palms flat down against his thighs as he gazed back and forth between the men, the fear and desperation in his eyes slowly fading before Johnny entered into a eternal slumber.
As the man fell forward, the reason for his demise was evident. A fur covered paw with ebony claws extended from the shadows like the cold hand of death itself. The claws dripped the crimson life force stolen from the man they had considered their friend. The remaining duo stared wide eyed at their fallen comrade, then glanced back to the hand, to terrified to move or even shout. A set of crimson eyes slowly opened in the shadows, reflecting the light of the dim torches as they squinted to see their assailant. The worgen's jet black fur came into sight as he slowly stepped from the shadow and stood as tall as the make shift ceiling allowed.
Dai releases a savage, blood curdling roar, stretching his arms out to his side and welcoming all challengers. One of the thieves cleverly darts down a tunnel behind him. The remaining thief does his best to follow but is cut short as Dai leaps into action. A overhand slash lacerates the man's shoulder, sending him to the ground with a howl of pain. The man turns to cry for mercy, begging and pleading for his life but it all lands on a deaf ear. Dai pounces on top of the man, grabbing his head with one hand and his shoulder with the other. He pulls his head to the side and darts forward with his jaws spread wide, sinking his fangs into his victims throat and clamping shut. The sickening gurgle of his last breaths combine with the pool of blood in the worgens' mouth when he rips the mans throat out, holding it in his mouth as he peers down at the thief. The man looks at him and spasms in shock coaxing a smile from Daishilz, flashing his blood covered teeth with pride, knowing it would be the mans last sight.
"Now for the rest of the rabbits," the worgen grumbles after spitting the remnants of the man's throat onto his corpse. The scurrying of footsteps and voices spur the warrior into action. He reaches down and picks up the corpse of the newly departed, using it as a shield as he storms down the tunnel in a blood lust. His eyes adjust to the dim lighting with ease and his hearing alerts him to the sound of someone knocking a arrow somewhere ahead of him. He raises his make shift shield when he hears the twang of the bow, allowing the body to take the impact for him. Just as he's about to rush forward, a stray tunnel to his right catches his attention as he peers over the corpse's shoulder. Dai narrows his eyes, fully expecting a ambush. It's where he would put one after all. Distract your enemy from a range and when they charge blindly, flank them. Simple tactics, yet effective.
The worgen roars out a battle cry and begins to charge when next he hears the twang from the bowmen again. The arrow collides into the body again, giving him exactly enough time for his plan. As he reaches the door on the right, he stops and heaves the body forward. Sure enough, a amateur swordsman is too anxious and swings early, not identifying his target. Dai turns the corner, just avoiding another arrow flying down the tunnel as he swings with a uppercut. His claws land flush with a young man's jaw, pushing through the skin and muscle, tearing through his tongue. The warrior clenches his fist and jerks back, ripping his opponents jaw from his face as he crumples before the worgen.
Behind the fresh body, a older man with a dagger charges forward with a thrust towards Dai's stomach. The worgen snatches the man's untrained wrist with ease, ripping it up and away from his body with such force the snapping of his elbow forces him to drop the dagger. Daishilz raises his fist, jaw in tow and punches the assailant in the face, burying the tendons and bone at the end of the jaw directly into the man's eyes and skull. As the body crumbles into the pile, the worgen can't help but smirk at the ease of this combat. Perhaps all the training with Triistia has paid off after all.
Soft sobbing and sniffling can be heard at the end of both tunnels. "H-hello? Is...is anyone left?!" came a terrified voice. "Listen, please, PLEASE! We...we didn't know!" the man's voice rang. Again, it was on deaf ears. Just in case there were more arrows, Dai leans down and gathers the old mans body, the younger mans jaw still dangling from his eye sockets.
The worgen held the body easily with one hand, again stalking down the tunnel. Finally a lad comes into view. A lad that was barely old enough to lay with his first woman, if he'd been so lucky. Dai recognizes him as one of the original trio he'd spotted entering the tunnel. One of the first that alerted him to their presence. When the boy sees the mutilated body of his friend, he falls to his knees and lets the tears fall freely, abandoning his bow and holding nothing but a small knife.
"Please...we didn't," he tries again as a mixture of snot, slob and tears rolled down his dirt stained face. "WE DIDN'T! IT WASN'T MUCH! YOU CAN HAVE IT BACK!" he hollers desperately.
The worgen pays no mind. He wouldn't allow it. He couldn't. Without the bow, the boy posed little threat. But this wasn't about current threat. This was about morals, dignity, justice and honor. These thieves, like Olly, hadn't considered the effects of their mistakes. Consequences to their actions meant nothing to them before now and Dai was here to change that, to get revenge against those who didn't consider the flaws of their actions and decisions they made. The greedy. The ignorant.
He tosses the body onto the boy, sending him into a frenzied panic as he tries to crawl away from the doorway he was kneeling in and back towards the spider hole, dropping his knife in his panic. Dai walks forward, tilting his head from side to side as he surveyed the lad before stepping on his calf. As he steps down, the worgens claws rip through the boys leggings, tearing the flesh from bone at the back of his thigh. The thief cries out in agony and falls forward onto his face as his leg is rendered useless, gripping at it in vein as his face rolls in the dirt and mixes with his snot, tears and slobber. "P-please....please," he begs again.
Daishilz kneels down beside the boy, reaching one bloody paw forward and taking hold of his hair. He pulls the thief's head back and slams it down face first into the ground, shattering the boys nose as blood splashes onto the ground. The slam was harder than Dai had meant to, he noticed when the glimmer of teeth in the dirt caught his eye. No matter, it would be over soon and he wouldn't be missing them where he was going. The worgen tugged his victims head once again, rolling him onto his ass and sitting him back against the wall. He plants his foot between the boys legs and shoves a knee firmly into his chest. "Right handed or left?" he asks the boy.
"L-l-left," the boy replies before coughing, sending the nasty mixture on his face along with new blood into the worgens fur. Dai simply grins and reaches down, clasping his large paw over the boys wrist and lifting it in front of his face. "When you take from others, there are always consequences," the worgen growls. One sharp, ebon claw presses into the boys hand, rending the flesh and tendons as he rips the skin all the way up to the tip of his middle finger, hooking his claw down and popping the thief's fingernail away from the skin. Naturally the boy cries out in pain, now gasping and choking on his own blood. "We...just....we just...we...we," he stammers out desperately, his breath catching as he tried to relay the message.
"Y-y-you are worthless!" the worgen cried out, letting all of his anger and frustration from the days boil over as he swiftly raked his claws over the boys face, separating the skin and flesh on his forhead, across his eyes, severing the corners of his lips to widen his smile and ripping a large hunk of flesh from his chin. The boy would go nowhere. He wouldn't survive. He could only sit, bleed and eventually die. But he would suffer for his inability to understand the harm he and his kind could do. The kind that didn't consider the consequences. Ollydag "The Great's" kind.
Dai pushes to his feet and grumbles before heading towards the room the boy was guarding, unconcerned with the gurgling, slurred, unclear warning the boy was trying to give him. Whatever happened at this point, the boy and his comrades deserved it. Making a mockery out of the livelihood of others and good, honest work. He didn't care what the boy was trying to say. It was too late for him now.
The worgen turns the corner and enters the room, blood dripping from his claws and jowls, drying in his fur and staining his leather leggings. The sudden burst of color caught him off guard and he raised one hand over his face, squinting in the bright lighting the torches gave off in this particular room. The worgen's jaw went slack and his eyes bulged as he noticed the bag the trio had been carrying when he first saw them. It was gripped by a young, blonde girl that couldn't have been seven years old. Behind her sat a mass of children and women, each dressed in potato sacks and ragged, worn leathers. Tears rolled down their faces as they looked up to the warrior, huddled into the far corner of the room. The blonde girl dropped the bag and a single red apple rolled towards the worgen's feet. He furrowed his brows in confusion at the group, then looked down at the apple as it all became clear. From the tunnel behind him, with the mans last breath, one single word broke through the worgens' clouded mind and made his stomach churn. "Refugees"
The words were true enough, but he had cast her the fool in their meeting that day. That day when he fell from the sky into Stormwind Lake with his own anvil nearly crushing him. He thought back to his boiling rage as he carried the anvil beneath his left arm, walking flat against the lake floor as his ear protruded from the water like a little dorsal fin from a shark. The woman had looked at him as if she'd seen a ghost and in her world, she had. Dai spent the better portion of the day listening to her recant stories about "her Dai" and what he had been in this world. But she was a slave after all and he couldn't imagine the life of a slave to be one of fact. Surely the woman had simply retreated into her own mind and created a story so extravagant she believed it to be fact. That was the way slaves worked after all, wasn't it? Alas, in this world, she was not a slave.
The next day, after he'd left the woman's house with clothes that supposedly belonged to him, the oddities really took their effect. Smells seemed slightly different. Not everywhere, but the subtle changes were not lost on his worgen senses. At first he'd chalked it up to his recent absence from the city and spending all of his time in Tyr's, yet things still didn't click as they should. People he'd noted before were at times, off or different. Tempers were noticed, accents, stories, smells, attitudes and even scars were misplaced or all together missing. Surely the portal had simply fogged his mind or screwed with his senses.
He'd spent the majority of the second day flying to Tyr's Hand and back as fast as he could using his Nightwing form. After arriving he noticed the lack of people, or at least the lack of Kin. After a quick inspection of his forge, his fears were confirmed. Someone had teleported him to Stormwind and stole all of his smithing supplies! It had to be Cynthia. Who else would be using magic in his forge? If only he would have attended Olly's meeting instead of spending the night preparing the Hand for the next Horde attack, he could have been wise to this trick and possibly spotted her causing trouble! Or so, he thought. The second night proved uneventful as his tired, aching wings eventually gave out and forced him to take shelter in a tall oak tree for the night, feasting on a easily snagged, raw rabbit to replenish his energy.
The third morning he returned to Stormwind and to his studying of the people. "If nothing else, maybe I'm not the only one that was misplaced. Perhaps the dumb broad sent other people sprawling across Azeroth as well," he thought to his self. Eventually he found his way to the Slaughtered Lamb and his perception of reality would soon be shattered entirely.
Dollraema had entered the Lamb not long after he'd taken his seat and when he made his presence known, she had seemed almost in shock. She hugged the wolf before assaulting him with a overload of information. The reason he was there hadn't been because of Cynthia's misbehavings at all. It was due to Olly. The gnome. The gnome he had helped gather the materials for the wormholes in order to pull off some sort of switch of keeps. The little man that so often referred to his self as 'Great'. Knowing what he did now, about the alternate reality and the death of so many of the Kinship due to the gnome's experiment, Dai would make sure the only thing 'Great' about him when they next met would be the great example he made of the gnome.
The warrior did his best to remain calm as he brought the conversation to a close with Doll, then headed out into the night. His rage boiled inside of him with no release. No outlet. He had no smith, no weapons, no armor in which to vent his emotions. They were trapped inside of him like a...a...slave! A slave that was not a slave in this world, she was right all along. And that is what leads Dai to be in the predicament he's in.
After leaving the city gates, Dai took to the air once more in his nightwing form. He'd found a nice little perch to rest upon near a abandoned house in Westfall. At least he thought it was abandoned. The sound of panting and footsteps had woken him from his sleep as a trio of men approached from the direction of Sentinel Hill. He watched with a lackluster curiosity, hidden by the shroud of night and his ebony fur, as they disappeared into a cleverly disguised spider hole near the house. Soon after a patrol of soldiers had stormed over the horizon, obviously hunting the group. A string of curses and a tantrum by one of the soldiers lead to nothing aside from their turning and heading back to wherever it was they came from.
"No one can do what's right. Everyone has to push and push until they ruin what everyone else has!" the warrior thought as he watched the guards disperse. But not this time. If he were in a new world, he would help ensure people like Olly weren't around to destroy anything. Even these thieves, taking what wasn't theirs as Olly had taken the lives of everyone he was beginning to consider family. Some lives were taken literally, some metaphorically, but none would ever be the same. Now these bandits, these thieves, would pay for their crimes.
The nightwing leaps into the air and spreads his wings, gliding to the earth with a gentle thud before shifting back into his worgen form. The scent of the bandits and guards were still fresh, but both were fading quickly. Dai lifts the cover to the spider hole and peers inside, glancing down a long, steep tunnel that appeared to lead somewhere below the house. Falling on to all fours he crawls into the spider hole and allows the cover to fall back into place.
Inch by slow inch he makes his way down the tunnel, stepping cautiously as he peers before every step in case there were a trap or loose gravel that might betray his presence. These thieves were amateurs. They left nothing behind, no warning systems, no traps to alert them to a invading presence, it was easy prey for the approaching wolf. His remaining ear twitched at the distant sounds of laughter, gloating and the clank of glass bottles to what he could only imagine was a celebration of a job well done.
As he closes the distance between him and his targets, the warrior is suddenly thankful for his lack of armor and weapon. He couldn't rely upon them in such closed quarters and the rattling of the thick plate would have surely given him away by now. Not to mention his typical bladed shoulder pads would have left him no room for maneuvering. This fight would have to be done the old fashion way. Muscle against muscle. Claw and fang rending flesh from bone or simply cracking bone as easily as the humans would a chicken. This fight was what his bottled up rage was begging for.
"Right? Did you see that guards face when he finally caught on to us?! What do you think Johnny?" one of the men asked as they turned towards their counterpart. But Johnny didn't speak. Johnny sat still, palms flat down against his thighs as he gazed back and forth between the men, the fear and desperation in his eyes slowly fading before Johnny entered into a eternal slumber.
As the man fell forward, the reason for his demise was evident. A fur covered paw with ebony claws extended from the shadows like the cold hand of death itself. The claws dripped the crimson life force stolen from the man they had considered their friend. The remaining duo stared wide eyed at their fallen comrade, then glanced back to the hand, to terrified to move or even shout. A set of crimson eyes slowly opened in the shadows, reflecting the light of the dim torches as they squinted to see their assailant. The worgen's jet black fur came into sight as he slowly stepped from the shadow and stood as tall as the make shift ceiling allowed.
Dai releases a savage, blood curdling roar, stretching his arms out to his side and welcoming all challengers. One of the thieves cleverly darts down a tunnel behind him. The remaining thief does his best to follow but is cut short as Dai leaps into action. A overhand slash lacerates the man's shoulder, sending him to the ground with a howl of pain. The man turns to cry for mercy, begging and pleading for his life but it all lands on a deaf ear. Dai pounces on top of the man, grabbing his head with one hand and his shoulder with the other. He pulls his head to the side and darts forward with his jaws spread wide, sinking his fangs into his victims throat and clamping shut. The sickening gurgle of his last breaths combine with the pool of blood in the worgens' mouth when he rips the mans throat out, holding it in his mouth as he peers down at the thief. The man looks at him and spasms in shock coaxing a smile from Daishilz, flashing his blood covered teeth with pride, knowing it would be the mans last sight.
"Now for the rest of the rabbits," the worgen grumbles after spitting the remnants of the man's throat onto his corpse. The scurrying of footsteps and voices spur the warrior into action. He reaches down and picks up the corpse of the newly departed, using it as a shield as he storms down the tunnel in a blood lust. His eyes adjust to the dim lighting with ease and his hearing alerts him to the sound of someone knocking a arrow somewhere ahead of him. He raises his make shift shield when he hears the twang of the bow, allowing the body to take the impact for him. Just as he's about to rush forward, a stray tunnel to his right catches his attention as he peers over the corpse's shoulder. Dai narrows his eyes, fully expecting a ambush. It's where he would put one after all. Distract your enemy from a range and when they charge blindly, flank them. Simple tactics, yet effective.
The worgen roars out a battle cry and begins to charge when next he hears the twang from the bowmen again. The arrow collides into the body again, giving him exactly enough time for his plan. As he reaches the door on the right, he stops and heaves the body forward. Sure enough, a amateur swordsman is too anxious and swings early, not identifying his target. Dai turns the corner, just avoiding another arrow flying down the tunnel as he swings with a uppercut. His claws land flush with a young man's jaw, pushing through the skin and muscle, tearing through his tongue. The warrior clenches his fist and jerks back, ripping his opponents jaw from his face as he crumples before the worgen.
Behind the fresh body, a older man with a dagger charges forward with a thrust towards Dai's stomach. The worgen snatches the man's untrained wrist with ease, ripping it up and away from his body with such force the snapping of his elbow forces him to drop the dagger. Daishilz raises his fist, jaw in tow and punches the assailant in the face, burying the tendons and bone at the end of the jaw directly into the man's eyes and skull. As the body crumbles into the pile, the worgen can't help but smirk at the ease of this combat. Perhaps all the training with Triistia has paid off after all.
Soft sobbing and sniffling can be heard at the end of both tunnels. "H-hello? Is...is anyone left?!" came a terrified voice. "Listen, please, PLEASE! We...we didn't know!" the man's voice rang. Again, it was on deaf ears. Just in case there were more arrows, Dai leans down and gathers the old mans body, the younger mans jaw still dangling from his eye sockets.
The worgen held the body easily with one hand, again stalking down the tunnel. Finally a lad comes into view. A lad that was barely old enough to lay with his first woman, if he'd been so lucky. Dai recognizes him as one of the original trio he'd spotted entering the tunnel. One of the first that alerted him to their presence. When the boy sees the mutilated body of his friend, he falls to his knees and lets the tears fall freely, abandoning his bow and holding nothing but a small knife.
"Please...we didn't," he tries again as a mixture of snot, slob and tears rolled down his dirt stained face. "WE DIDN'T! IT WASN'T MUCH! YOU CAN HAVE IT BACK!" he hollers desperately.
The worgen pays no mind. He wouldn't allow it. He couldn't. Without the bow, the boy posed little threat. But this wasn't about current threat. This was about morals, dignity, justice and honor. These thieves, like Olly, hadn't considered the effects of their mistakes. Consequences to their actions meant nothing to them before now and Dai was here to change that, to get revenge against those who didn't consider the flaws of their actions and decisions they made. The greedy. The ignorant.
He tosses the body onto the boy, sending him into a frenzied panic as he tries to crawl away from the doorway he was kneeling in and back towards the spider hole, dropping his knife in his panic. Dai walks forward, tilting his head from side to side as he surveyed the lad before stepping on his calf. As he steps down, the worgens claws rip through the boys leggings, tearing the flesh from bone at the back of his thigh. The thief cries out in agony and falls forward onto his face as his leg is rendered useless, gripping at it in vein as his face rolls in the dirt and mixes with his snot, tears and slobber. "P-please....please," he begs again.
Daishilz kneels down beside the boy, reaching one bloody paw forward and taking hold of his hair. He pulls the thief's head back and slams it down face first into the ground, shattering the boys nose as blood splashes onto the ground. The slam was harder than Dai had meant to, he noticed when the glimmer of teeth in the dirt caught his eye. No matter, it would be over soon and he wouldn't be missing them where he was going. The worgen tugged his victims head once again, rolling him onto his ass and sitting him back against the wall. He plants his foot between the boys legs and shoves a knee firmly into his chest. "Right handed or left?" he asks the boy.
"L-l-left," the boy replies before coughing, sending the nasty mixture on his face along with new blood into the worgens fur. Dai simply grins and reaches down, clasping his large paw over the boys wrist and lifting it in front of his face. "When you take from others, there are always consequences," the worgen growls. One sharp, ebon claw presses into the boys hand, rending the flesh and tendons as he rips the skin all the way up to the tip of his middle finger, hooking his claw down and popping the thief's fingernail away from the skin. Naturally the boy cries out in pain, now gasping and choking on his own blood. "We...just....we just...we...we," he stammers out desperately, his breath catching as he tried to relay the message.
"Y-y-you are worthless!" the worgen cried out, letting all of his anger and frustration from the days boil over as he swiftly raked his claws over the boys face, separating the skin and flesh on his forhead, across his eyes, severing the corners of his lips to widen his smile and ripping a large hunk of flesh from his chin. The boy would go nowhere. He wouldn't survive. He could only sit, bleed and eventually die. But he would suffer for his inability to understand the harm he and his kind could do. The kind that didn't consider the consequences. Ollydag "The Great's" kind.
Dai pushes to his feet and grumbles before heading towards the room the boy was guarding, unconcerned with the gurgling, slurred, unclear warning the boy was trying to give him. Whatever happened at this point, the boy and his comrades deserved it. Making a mockery out of the livelihood of others and good, honest work. He didn't care what the boy was trying to say. It was too late for him now.
The worgen turns the corner and enters the room, blood dripping from his claws and jowls, drying in his fur and staining his leather leggings. The sudden burst of color caught him off guard and he raised one hand over his face, squinting in the bright lighting the torches gave off in this particular room. The worgen's jaw went slack and his eyes bulged as he noticed the bag the trio had been carrying when he first saw them. It was gripped by a young, blonde girl that couldn't have been seven years old. Behind her sat a mass of children and women, each dressed in potato sacks and ragged, worn leathers. Tears rolled down their faces as they looked up to the warrior, huddled into the far corner of the room. The blonde girl dropped the bag and a single red apple rolled towards the worgen's feet. He furrowed his brows in confusion at the group, then looked down at the apple as it all became clear. From the tunnel behind him, with the mans last breath, one single word broke through the worgens' clouded mind and made his stomach churn. "Refugees"