i'm not a saint

The blade sliced into the leather-covered gap between the plates of Scab's arm and shoulder, and he bellowed while dropping the unconscious woman in a heap. But Scab has the body of an Ox and his muscle and bulk shielded his heart where a normal's man build would not suffice. While his other eye rolled upward in pain, the red one stilled and narrows at the rogue. A quick hand reach for the wrist clutching the sword and with a sickening snap, the squeeze of his bear-paws broke bone.

Beneath Scab's dark sleeves a detached muscle twisted out until a snake's head appeared at the cuff with more red eyes. Scab grimaced at the man and a second later, the quick strike of fangs left two small bleeding marks on the hand. Scab then let go. This prey wouldn't get far with the paralytic venom - slowing even the man's heart to a near death-like state in less than a minute. "Run run, little pup," he muttered deeply, then let goof him and pulled the man's weapon out with a nasty schlurping noise.