Great Hunt: Ravenous

He sneered at the derision in the mage's tone. He was no pet of the Archon- he was one of the rulers of the Order, now that the Archon was in power and had removed the witches from their wrongful places, and this witch would do well to remember that. "Watch your mouth, witch," he said, only releasing his grip on the crossbow when he saw the Order's golden pin on the witch's shirt. "Are you out from Namarast on the orders of the Archon? None of your kind should really be leaving the city's walls these days. You all cause too much unrest, too much chaos in Ivras." He smirked, lowering the crossbow down to his side, his other hand gripping his leather vest. This witch should know better than to try his patience- he and Jakob were the only survivors of a witch's attack on their hometown- the Survivors of Foxglen, the more openly witch-hating Witchfinders called the pair. He detested witches of all sorts, and all it would take is one snarky response too many for there to be an accident, if he thought he could get away with it-

The ground rumbled, and instantly Falke's crossbow was up again, sighting the forest around him. Training has his body moving fluidly from one side to the next, both eyes open and sighted down the line of the crossbow's bolt. Then, there- a great, stinking beast, leaking vile sludge that warped the trees around it, shuffling slowly towards Namarast. Jakob saw it, too, and pulled out his sword, his legs clanking and whirring to lower him into a fighting stance. Turning his head just slightly enough to address his brother-in-arms while keeping both eyes on the beast, Falke spoke. "Jakob," he said, not unkindly, "you can hardly stand on those prosthetics without pain. You need to go warn the towns nearby, sound the alarm." He gave a soft smile to his brother-who-was-not-his-brother, and a slight nod. "I can cover you long enough for you to get a head start, maybe draw the thing away from the towns." 

He saw Jakob stiffen, a flash of pain- or perhaps anger- flash over his features. "Falke, I am just as capable-"

Falke's eyes narrowed. "No, Jakob, you're not. You're still healing. Get out of here and warn as many as you can, then get to Namarast and tell the Archon. I won't hear anything else about it. Go!"

Falke, with all his hunter's training, felt the stiffening of Jakob, felt his anger at being shoved aside, and then his turning away, his quick trot towards civilization- but it was for the greater good. He wouldn't lose his last tie to Foxglen to a damned beast. When he knew Jakob was far enough away, and he saw the beast lumber a step or two closer, he turned a scowling face to the witch. "I ain't no pet, witch," he snarled, checking how many bolts he had. "I may not have magic, but I can lure this thing away from people, at least give the other damned fighting witches a bit more time to get here." 

One eye settled firmly on the witch, his peripheral settled on the slowly-approaching beast, he spoke, his words harshed and clipped. "Now, you gonna help me or not? What kind of Patrons-damned magic do you have, anyway?"