Chester turned around in time to see a woman shoot his attacker with some sort of spell and then tumble to a crouch on the bar.  To say he was amazed was an understatement.  He did not pause though, but leaped over the bar and smashed the bottle over the downed figure of the attacker, just to be sure.  It broke across his attacker's face with a sick thunk.<br/><br/>Only then did it really hit him.  She had been using dark magic!  She was in league with the warlocks!  From a young age, he had been brought up to understand that dark magic was forbidden, because evil spirits inhabited those who practiced it.  It was said that when a warlock was burned at the stake, the screams that made were the evil spirits leaving their body.  The more they screamed, the deeper the demonic possession.  It cleansed them, before they meet with the goddess for rebirth, to be burnt.  That was why it was the only acceptable way for them to be killed.  It was also said that if they carried their demonic spirits before the goddess, she cast them back out into the world, as an even more evil and possessed child.  The wise men always watched for such children, who were know by their evil deformities.<br/><br/>Why had she helped him though?  Surely it was some sort of trick.  Those kinds of magics were forbidden, and as black and evil as could be.  Still, he could not fault her for killing his attacker.  If it was a trick, that man had given his life for it.  Besides which, why had the man been up there trying to kill him, if the trick was set up down in the tap room?  In a flash, he decided to trust her, for now.<br/><br/>A lot of people were waking now and crying in confusion.  He looked over at the woman and said "Thank you for your help, but you need to leave before the guards show up!"  He suddenly wondered if the attacker had been alone and whipped his head around the room, as people staggered drunkenly to their feet.  He did not know if he was the only one that saw her perform dark magic, or not.  He should try and stop her, to bind her, and wait for the guard, but he could not.  She had saved him, for whatever reason, and that obligated him to her, for the moment, no matter how black her soul be.<br/><br/>He had heard stories of warlocks who asked to be burned.  They wished to be free.  He had never meet one, or seen one, nor had anyone he knew.  Still, maybe some goodness remained in the possessed.  Maybe they fought their possessors, and occasionally good could come from them.  The mere thought was heresy.  He immediately touched his groin, his heart and his forehead and asked the goddess to forgive him.<br/><br/>OOC:  The possession bit might not be true, but Chester believes all of it, for the moment.  He was raised on it.  I am not sure if the guards actually would show up, in the middle of the night, to this God forsaken inn, but he is not thinking so very clearly at the moment.