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.
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