M.I.S.T. Campaign: Session 13

It’s amazing how a good night’s sleep…I mean, it’s amazing how a good night can improve your mood.

Ken woke up after a while.  And she didn’t seem to be any worse for the wear, thankfully.  And most of the Loyalist wolves even opted to stay in the area under her leadership.  Which, unfortunately, included a man by the name of Steiner who was apparently Krieger’s heir.  Insufferable little prick doesn’t seem to realize there’s anything more to life than money and women, or that the former won’t always get you the latter  He also didn’t seem to realize just how much I needed to beat someone or something into the ground right about then.  Which I wasn’t really shy about telling him about.

…And then Leger told me that if I did he’d have to bring the full weight of the law to bear on me.  Because mortal law’s really my primary concern in divine manners.  Not to mention that he’s being pretty damn selective about which crimes he wants to punish.  Even if you buy his bullshit on the attack on us being excusable because it was a “battle” instead of a “pre-meditated assault” are we really expected to believe he can’t tie any of the other members of the pack to any of the numerous murders committed by werewolves in the area?  Wonderful, just wonderful.  A pleasure to know that the only real choice Ken had for Beta is capable of exercising such impartial judgment.

Though Steiner, at least, was good for one thing.  Krieger’s meeting with Kline apparently included something about illegal arms.  So now we’ve got Kline walking into a sting, which should yield the information Brynhildur sent us here to get in the first place.  So at least there’s that.

Then we made our way back to the hotel.  Ken and I talked for a while after we got back.  She…wasn’t exactly happy about how either myself or Claire got along with Leger and Steiner after the duel.  I can understand why…but I still stand by everything I said.  Though I don’t think she entirely disagreed with us.  I got her tacit approval to talk with Steiner before we leave.  And yes, I do mean talk, for the most part.  I’m not planning on hurting him seriously, at least.  But he does need to learn a few manners.

Anyway, the other reason I don’t think she was too mad is because once we talked through all that she stayed the night in my room.  And…wow.  Not that I’d been able to find any, umm, fault in her previous performances.  But last night was just on a whole different level.  I can’t even think of anything to compare it with.

I had a surprise for her come morning, too.  No, not that kind of surprise.  I’ve been studying Gaelic for a bit now.  If I was still a mortal I’d still be trying to learn basic vocabulary terms, but having perfect recall really helps speed things up a bit  I’m not fluent yet, but I’m getting close.  Close enough to talk to her in it a little, at least.  She really seemed to appreciate it.

We also talked a little bit about the future, the near future at least.  It’s hard to plan too far ahead when we don’t know when Brynhildur might send us off to some random corner of the globe.  Whenever we have the chance we’re going to go out and travel the countryside; get some filming done and spend some time together away from the complications M.I.S.T. can bring.  And once that figured out, or close enough to it, we took a shower.  It was a very long shower.

Amazing how a night and a morning can improve your mood.

M.I.S.T. Campaign: Session 12

We ended up having another planning session before the hunt.  It was much more productive…if rendered largely unnecessary.  But more on those specifics later.  We pored over a map of the area to find advantageous terrain, and found some to the South.  It would be quite a trek, but a cliff face overlooking a lake was the best we could hope for.  We never actually got there.

As the night of the hunt began we met Leger and the rest of the wolves who actually respected the old ways first.  There were about fifteen of them, so with the Band and my Einherjar counted in we were only outnumbered about three to one.  Quality over quantity, words we had to prove.  And we did.

Krieger’s scum, literally, came out of the woodwork as we made our way to the appointed dueling grounds.  They seemed to be trying to intimidate us.  In truth, they did a better job of tempting me to start the festivities early and pound one or two into the ground.  There was no shortage of anger, worry, or frustration to work out.

Once we arrived Krieger, of course, ran his mouth off again.  The same boasts as before, most of it seemingly intended to unnerve Ken, but also a parting shot quite obviously designed to rile my temper even further.  Just another indication that he sorely underestimated us.  My wrath was one of the last things he wanted to face.

Predictably, with the time of the duel upon us he ordered the rest of the pack to kill us.  Ever seen any of those movies where the heroes are hopelessly outnumbered yet still annihilate the first wave of their foes with no casualties whatsoever?  It was kind of like that.  Cindy blessed her axe, a few clips for Claire’s guns, and Grimmur Klærnar with the power of silver.  With that boost the three of us slew three of them before they got an attack off.  Two of my Einherjar put another down with old-fashioned lead, and Andrew did something to drop some trees on a bunch of others that got close.  Cindy and I were the only ones even hit, and even those blows weren’t strong enough to so much as scratch us.

My other three Einherjar…helped me cut loose a bit.  And it was exhilarating.  Before we set out I’d taken a bunch of portable propane tanks, attached matches to the side.  The twins lit them and tossed them into out into the crowd.  And I seized upon those fires with the influence inherited from my Father, or perhaps my Grandfather.  It matters not which.  With but a thought, a call to the wild destruction that lurked within those fires, they swelled and intensified.

Propane tanks aren’t designed to handle that.

And, just as I’d hoped, they exploded in a fury of flame and shrapnel that tore into our foes.  It was…exhilarating, intoxicating, despite it all.  To truly unleashing the destructive fury of the elements themselves on our foes for the first time.  I already find myself desiring the chance to do so again.

But our fight, despite the ferocity, was merely a backdrop to the duel between Ken and Krieger.  It was, in a word, brutal.  She was quicker to react, and blew half his face off with her first shot.  For a second it looked like that shot might have slew him then and there.  But his return stroke was just as devastating, bearing her to the ground beneath him.  It was a terrifying, wrenching, moment when I could not help but wonder if my fears would be realized. If they had been Krieger would have faced the full brunt of my divine fury right then and there, swept away like a leaf before a gale.

But they weren’t.  Ken shifted, and right on top of her as he was Krieger didn’t have a prayer of avoiding her jaws as they all but tore his throat from his body.  When he went down…he didn’t get back up.  Not that we were out of the woods yet.  Few things are more dangerous than fanatic fools in large numbers.  They were working themselves up, preparing to charge.  And we were still outnumbered horribly.  I hovered over Ken; determined that any who tried to overwhelm her would pay dearly, prepared to face the onslaught.

Then Lexi blew into her saxophone…a horrible, screechy sound in sharp contrast to the beautiful melodies she usually produced.  And the effect was immediate.  As unpleasant as I may have found the noise, it brought every werewolf in the clearing to its knees (had to feel sorry for Ken).  And just like that, the night’s hostilities were over.

The night’s excitement, however, was not.  Since Ken wasn’t going to be staying in the area the nymph connected to it needed to extract some of her blood to maintain the connection…which she told us after dragging Ken into a tree and wrapping her in some sort of root cocoon.  Damn thing’s lucky I didn’t burn the tree down to get Ken out of it.  Has she never heard of friendly fire?  Literal friendly fire, in this case.

…I am not fond of this place.

M.I.S.T. Campaign: Session 11

I talked to Ken after the Morrigan left.  It helped put my mind somewhat at ease, I guess.  The situation is not any less dire, but she seems to be somewhat more at ease than she was on the way over.  Which certainly counts for something.  I guess seeing her so worried made me more anxious.

I could see the Lycanthropy starting to affect her too.  She was noticeably feverish…her skin hot to the touch, beginning to ramble a bit, I could see the cracks forming in her composure.  She said the Morrigan said it was just her body adjusting to the change, that it wasn’t much to worry about.  I still did, and wished there was more I could do then than just let her know I’d be behind her every step of the way through this upcoming duel.

But there wasn’t, so I let her rest.

My Mother sent me a text later.  The forest, an hour after sunrise.  I came prepared.  I mean, I know she wouldn’t send me there if she suspected it was an ambush.  But my Uncle is supremely dangerous, and I don’t know how practiced he is at subterfuge.  He’s had incentive to learn it, no doubt, since he was bound.  And there were the werewolves to worry about too.  I’m sure they’d love the opportunity to pick one of us off away from the others.

The lone comfort was that I was at least fairly certain that none of the opponents we faced were capable of flight as I am.

All told, it ended up going about as well as I could’ve expected.  Not that that’s saying much.  He sent a representative, and though the Fenrir wolf was more openly hostile than I might have liked things remained civil enough…in other words; no blood, no bruises, no broken bones.  And I did get some information; insight as to Krieger’s views and likely methods, a bit about what we can and can’t do within the boundaries fate set for the challenge.  It may not be all that much, we’ll see.  But it could also prove crucial, and I wasn’t expecting much.

Ken’s change came later that night.  In werewolf form she was even bigger than I am, did a pretty good job of tearing a hotel room to pieces before we could get there, too.  She shifted back to human form not long after we arrived…but I could still feel her muscles twitching, shifting beneath her skin.  Her finger s seemed to be on the verge of turning to claws, she seemed to be fighting for control.  And it was taking a lot out of her.  She was exhausted, soaked in sweat, and ravenous.  I sent the Einherjar out to get food for her, meat and beer.

At which point Cindy and Claire insisted that I should go with them for some reason...

Given everything that was going on I was understandably reluctant to.  You know, like everyone else in the band.  Which is when Claire called me clingy and Cindy said I was borderline overprotective.  Because it was fine if all the other of the band members stayed in the room with her but if I did I was getting carried away?  And Ken didn’t even say or indicate anything about not wanting me there.  I mean, am I the only one who doesn’t understand where the fuck those two are coming from?

Afterwards, since we were all up and alert anyway, we sat down and tried to do some planning.  Tried being the operative word given how are options are limited.  Because as much as I’d like to storm the castle and crush Krieger’s skull beneath my fist our agreements do reflect on Ken and would reverberate through the threads of fate tied to this duel.  If we attack Krieger before he breaks his end of the bargain there’s no telling what could happen.

And as if we didn’t need any more bad news Andrew talked to Leger.  Apparently Krieger was telling the truth when he mentioned having some sort of mental influence over the pack, and he’ll have it over her during the duel.  As if the odds needed to be stacked any higher.

We’ve been here twenty-four hours, and I’ve already had more than enough of this damn place to last me a lifetime.

M.I.S.T. Campaign: Session 10

One werewolf was at the main gate, presumably a guard.  I had Steve run him over.  He was a tough son of a bitch, though, shifted and tried to tear the engine out of our car.  That’s when I snapped his neck, and Steve ran him over again.  That time he stayed down.  The gate post broke after that, and Andrew heard the girls.  So I swung got back into the car and we took off.

We arrived just in time to hear…to hear that smug, overconfident, mutt.  Ken challenged him before we got there, a duel for leadership of the pack.  She had to let him bite her, to become a werewolf to do it.  And…I can see why she did it.  The wolves were there in force.  A fight would’ve been bloody on both sides.  But they had us where they wanted us, and the odds that one or more of us would be slain in the battle were higher than anyone would like.  So she risked herself; the danger of the bite, the dangers of the hunt, isolating herself in single combat against Krieger.  She made herself vulnerable so we could get out of that bind.

And I had to let her do it.

As much as I wanted to do something, anything, to stop it from happening…I couldn’t.  I couldn’t incite a battle with the girls trapped in the house like that; I couldn’t take the choice from Ken.  For all my divine power…capabilities beyond anything a mortal could ever hope for, burgeoning command over the elements, influence over death itself…there was nothing I could do.  And I hated the feeling.  I can’t lose her, I won’t.  The Norns still weave this thread into their tapestry, I will be sure to make my mark on it before it’s finished.

Krieger, accursed mongrel, seemed to be enjoying the chance to mock us, gloating as if he’d already won.  He directed it mainly against Ken and me.  I think he was trying to provoke me, get me to do something rash.  As if I were so stupid, like I’d give him the pleasure.  But he did succeed in rousing my temper to a white-hot fury, the likes of which I last felt back in Alaska, Rigvar.  One way or another I will see him dead, soon.  Perhaps I can glean the answers we came for from his shattered corpse.

We had one more observer, as well.  I noticed a raven perched atop a building some ways away, it started paying a lot more attention to us once Krieger bit Kennedy’s wrist.  I read up on all the Divine Parents of the Band after Whittier, it wasn’t hard to figure out that the Morrigan was watching.  And as if there was any doubt Ken’s phone rang as soon as the wolves left.

It was Ken’s second biological mother, apparently.  I could actually hear the call.  When I was in the courtyard my senses just…sharpened.  Njord’s supposed to have extraordinarily keen senses; I guess that aspect of my ichor finally stirred.  Anyway, it was confirmed that the Morrigan was indeed watching.  She also seemed to be…upset, and wanted to speak to Ken immediately.

That shook her up pretty badly, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen her scared.  Which, of course, only frayed my nerves even more.  I tried to put her at ease as best I could…but I’m just not as comforting as the Morrigan is fearsome.  Ken’s other Mom, Rhiannon, met us outside and told Ken that the Morrigan was waiting inside.  Then she stayed to talk to us while Ken went in to speak with the Morrigan.

I wasn’t paying much attention to her for most of it though, because I contacted my Mother.  I know what we’re going up against now is outside of her area of expertise…but I had to call her anyway.  Even if it’s just grasping at straws I had to give it a shot.  Speaking of…I also asked if she could get me in touch with Fenrir.  Another thing she told me the Æsir won’t like, and something she might not even be able to manage it.  But, desperate times…

The Morrigan stopped briefly to talk to us when she was done with Ken.  Well, it seemed directed mainly at me.  I’m not sure she understands the concept of weregild that well.  So yeah, she basically threatened consequences if Ken died during all of this.  I told her that she should already know I’d lay down my own life before I let them kill Ken.

Maybe someday I’ll learn to watch my tongue around gods.

But I said it because I meant it with every fiber of my being.  I won’t stop her from stepping forth for the challenge she issued, I won’t deny Ken her fights.  But those vile designs Krieger has?  Not as long as I draw breath.  The Morrigan didn’t say much after that, but did remark that I was the one “taking her daughter’s virtue.”  She didn’t really sound all that happy about it, but I won’t pretend to be able to read her.

I think she also did…something.  After I made that oath, spoke so boldly, there was a rumble of a distant thunderclap.  I don’t think anyone else heard it.

I only hope that it’ll help me aid Ken somehow.