Butch the Wereboar

The horned beast tears free of the wall, iron-dark hide scraping stone. Its eyes flare in the same cruel rhythm as the sigil burning on Butch’s arm.

The ledge splits under their feet. Dust pours into the abyss as Butch digs in, keeping his balance while the cavern groans around him.

Sable snaps her shield up beside him, bracing for the next blow. The beast answers with a hammering strike that sends sparks and grit skittering across the broken rock.

Butch meets the charge head on, forcing the creature back just enough to keep Sable clear of the edge. The sigil on his arm pulses harder, matching the beast’s beat like a lock finding its key.

The beast swings again, and the ledge crumbles to a thin strip of stone. Beyond it, the cavern yawns open, waiting for one wrong step.

Butch surges into the beast’s opening chest, his arm driving through iron-dark hide as the sigil burns hot along his forearm.

His hand closes around a slick, pulsing heart. The beast jerks upright, a shocked wrench running through its frame as the ledge spits dust into the abyss.

Butch rips the heart free and crushes it in his grip. Black light bursts between his fingers, then snaps inward, racing over his arm and into Sable’s side of the sigil.

Sable staggers, then plants her shield and reaches for Butch with her free hand, the shared rhythm flashing once, bright and steady.

The Horned Beast crumples hard against the broken stone, its eyes dimming as the cavern’s roar drops into a ragged, hollow tremor.

The ledge gives another long crack beneath them, and the dark below yawns wider, waiting for the next step.

Butch leaves Vast underground cavern beneath the moor behind and arrives at Moor surface.

Cold moor air slams into Butch as he lands hard in wet grass, Sable locked against his chest. Behind them, the cliff edge coughs loose stones into a black throat.

He keeps his arm around her and rolls with the impact, dragging her clear of the lip as the broken ledge collapses in a grinding sheet of rock.

Sable plants her shield, one hand snapping to Butch’s burning sigil. The shared mark flares once, then settles into a steady pulse.

Above the chasm, the Horned Beast’s ruined shape heaves against the edge, then sinks back into the dust and darkness. A low crack of light remains in the shattered stone.

From below the moor, something vast and ancient answers with a deep, animal rumble. The ground under their feet trembles, waiting for Butch’s next move.