Veti clutched her head , the pistol still in hand but silenced now. The werewolf grimaced in pain beneath the baleful glare of the god-wolf as he turned his ebony gaze to her. She shut her eyes tight, trying to block out the sight only to discover, to her horror, that the Fenrir was actually in her head, tossing her thoughts like a maelstrom of hate and malice. Veti moaned, shaking her head with a stubborn, defiant cry.
It was all she had left. It was she could do.
She forced her eyes open in an instant, nothing but pure rebellious orneriness the fuel that kept her on her feet. The Fenrir still spanned the skies above them, a thing she could feel more than see with her mortal eyes, a dark and terrible new night illuminated by the fae green lightning. Jay-Jay's fire and Thad's enchanted spear; Hellis' magicks; Gabe's fantastical aerobatics and Siya's and Daisy's initial assaults were rendered utterly futile. She'd never really had much of a hope for her and Gabe's gunfire, but it had seemed a better option to distract than to stand there dumbfounded.
Even the ancient standing stones were no more, crushed beneath the primeval claws of the Fenrir. What chance would her beloved pack ever have?
There was no plan in her head beyond the very next moment. Veti's eyes turned immediately, always, to Thad who, thank God, still seemed whole. Not necessarily hale - but hell, who among them was right now? At least his feet were on the ground -
- which was more than anyone could say for Semyon and Gabe.
"A little help up, babe?" she quipped as turned on her bare foot. Veti throttled the wolf inside her, dragged its raggedy cringing ass out from beneath the bed it wanted to hide under in the presence of Fenrir, gave it a solid shake and a hard slap upside the head, to snap the fuck out of it all goddamned ready! Veti the woman was certainly strong without a doubt. But Veti the wolf could perform feats of physical prowess a mortal human could only dream of.
One more step, two and the werewolf got her proverbial shit together. Powerful, crimson furred haunches coiled and then sprung, clods of thick black dirt and soft green grasses kicking up into the air behind her as the crimson wolf launched herself on a trajectory to intercept Semyon's free fall at the very least. The decision had been made in a split-second and, after Gabe's acrobatics getting up to the Fenrir's maw in the first place, she could only pray his fall would be broken a hell of a lot easier than a wight's likely would be.
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Oh no Tirg, you're not behind at all! It's the start of a new round of posts and (speaking of which) I plan to have one up at some point today too :)
That was a really good post Idle - you did wonderfully (as always ;) )
And in addition to what idle and Kuro already said Road, I'll gladly edit my post - take away or add - to reflect anything you choose to do. If there's something specific you want me to cut or add? Just let me know - edits are never a problem.
>.>
<.<
Is it here idle, or in a collab or... Am I missing something? (also entirely possible?) XD
<.<
Is it here idle, or in a collab or... Am I missing something? (also entirely possible?) XD
Bad, bad wolf-god! D: Ouch... >< Yeah, this is gonna leave a mark...
I've got the popcorn Kuro, hot buttered and kettle, if you'd like to pick up a couple bottomless cups of sodas and straws? Oh! And can some please grab some Twizzlers too, maybe some Raisinets?
eta: And can't wait, idle! *crunches some kettle corn happily, settles into a comfy bean bag chair*
eta: And can't wait, idle! *crunches some kettle corn happily, settles into a comfy bean bag chair*
According to idle, "nithskald" means "cowardly, bitch poet" aka: liar. And fighting words! Weeeeee! 
Svala never saw the first blow that struck Haakon, disbelieving and horror-struck as a most piteous sight unfolded, that helpless, screaming girl thrown into the flames. But Haakon was going to act - of course he was. A man of few words, he would let his deeds speak for him - but for that second blow, the haft of the long-axe that sent him sprawling to the ground. And though the slender young woman never stood a chance of peeling even one of these armed and armored cowards off Haakon, kicking and beating him like the pack of curs they truly were, that did not stop her from trying. Not even a day ago, Svala saw Orran stand his ground, outnumbered but not outmatched, and had fled after the children when he ordered her away.
She would not run again. Svala snarled, leaping to the back of Harald's man closest to her, wrapping her arms as best she could around his armored neck and shoulders to pull him back. But all she earned for her efforts was an annoyed shrug of his shoulders and a half-hearted shove that sent her flying back on the well-trodden, snow-muddied ground. Svala rose again, not much more than her backside and her pride hurt as she leapt for another attempt - and received not much better for her next futile attempt, or even the one after that.
But when that arc of crimson blood sprayed over the snow, the *crack* of Haakon's nose breaking sickeningly audible as he collapsed, Svala drew her own axe back, ready to bury it to the haft in some bastard's back and see just how easy that was to ignore! But just as that blow hovered in mid-swing, she saw the seax blade laid Haakon's exposed throat, the threat implied and the menacing promise...
Svala's eyes widened in horror, her mouth fallen open as she lowered the bearded axe in her hand, shaking her head in a silent plea that blade go no further. She took a slow step back as her deep blue eyes sought out their match in her Madir's pale, stunned face, silent questions begging for reason in her gaze.
But Hallerna simply had no good answers to give. All she ever saw in those first moments was her precious, feisty little Eyja murdered, thrown - alive and screaming - into the flames. She had stood stunned, too slow, rooted to the spot and disbelieving even as this unspeakable outrage unfolded before her very eyes. Oh certainly Tora's horrific wounds told her all ever need know about Harald's black character, this low, vicious beast of a man. But the murder of a child, for no better reason than... Than spite? This was an atrocity, a crime so heinous, so foul...
Ragnar's man was beaten to the ground behind the treacherous safety of Trelleborg's walls, for stepping to the defense of a child! And when Vigi's protests were met with a public thrashing, with such abject humiliation, any restraint Hallerna had left fell away like shattered chains. She knew the desperate denials of the beaten, red-haired slave would count for nothing, no matter his reckless courage. But Hallerna knew the truth of the matter - and she was a Dane, a free woman. She turned on the vile little man with a rage so violent she shook with the effort to maintain any semblance of control.
"NITHSKALD! I name you liar and coward, false thegn!" she roared, over the heads of the cowed people who had gathered, shoving aside men and women as she strode toward Harald. "I saw to everyone, every last Dane and thrall who left the healing house, and that child was not bitten!"
But Hallerna's rage was nowhere near spent, and she rounded on the gawking, useless bystanders who had just begun to gather outside the healing house. "How many of you went out into the village yesterday morning to retrieve supplies? How many of you remember my face, if not my name? And do a single one of you remember his face out there with us?" she asked, pointing with her axe to Harald. "Who among you would say I lie about such a thing, about a child bitten?"
"And your seidrmadr! Vigi fought the draugr alongside you! He sewed your wounds closed, healed your sick - and all you can do is stand here open-mouthed like cattle, while some dog of a man not worthy to lick shit from his boots beats him to the ground!? As if our seidrmadr, the favored of the gods, could be the cause of the draugr? Ha! And you call yourself free men? You call yourself Danes?" The woman growled her disgust and spat to the ground.
"Oh, but I know just what to call you," Hallerna snarled, turning back to the vile little man, no more than a few steps away from him now. "Harald Nithskald."
She would not run again. Svala snarled, leaping to the back of Harald's man closest to her, wrapping her arms as best she could around his armored neck and shoulders to pull him back. But all she earned for her efforts was an annoyed shrug of his shoulders and a half-hearted shove that sent her flying back on the well-trodden, snow-muddied ground. Svala rose again, not much more than her backside and her pride hurt as she leapt for another attempt - and received not much better for her next futile attempt, or even the one after that.
But when that arc of crimson blood sprayed over the snow, the *crack* of Haakon's nose breaking sickeningly audible as he collapsed, Svala drew her own axe back, ready to bury it to the haft in some bastard's back and see just how easy that was to ignore! But just as that blow hovered in mid-swing, she saw the seax blade laid Haakon's exposed throat, the threat implied and the menacing promise...
Svala's eyes widened in horror, her mouth fallen open as she lowered the bearded axe in her hand, shaking her head in a silent plea that blade go no further. She took a slow step back as her deep blue eyes sought out their match in her Madir's pale, stunned face, silent questions begging for reason in her gaze.
But Hallerna simply had no good answers to give. All she ever saw in those first moments was her precious, feisty little Eyja murdered, thrown - alive and screaming - into the flames. She had stood stunned, too slow, rooted to the spot and disbelieving even as this unspeakable outrage unfolded before her very eyes. Oh certainly Tora's horrific wounds told her all ever need know about Harald's black character, this low, vicious beast of a man. But the murder of a child, for no better reason than... Than spite? This was an atrocity, a crime so heinous, so foul...
Ragnar's man was beaten to the ground behind the treacherous safety of Trelleborg's walls, for stepping to the defense of a child! And when Vigi's protests were met with a public thrashing, with such abject humiliation, any restraint Hallerna had left fell away like shattered chains. She knew the desperate denials of the beaten, red-haired slave would count for nothing, no matter his reckless courage. But Hallerna knew the truth of the matter - and she was a Dane, a free woman. She turned on the vile little man with a rage so violent she shook with the effort to maintain any semblance of control.
"NITHSKALD! I name you liar and coward, false thegn!" she roared, over the heads of the cowed people who had gathered, shoving aside men and women as she strode toward Harald. "I saw to everyone, every last Dane and thrall who left the healing house, and that child was not bitten!"
But Hallerna's rage was nowhere near spent, and she rounded on the gawking, useless bystanders who had just begun to gather outside the healing house. "How many of you went out into the village yesterday morning to retrieve supplies? How many of you remember my face, if not my name? And do a single one of you remember his face out there with us?" she asked, pointing with her axe to Harald. "Who among you would say I lie about such a thing, about a child bitten?"
"And your seidrmadr! Vigi fought the draugr alongside you! He sewed your wounds closed, healed your sick - and all you can do is stand here open-mouthed like cattle, while some dog of a man not worthy to lick shit from his boots beats him to the ground!? As if our seidrmadr, the favored of the gods, could be the cause of the draugr? Ha! And you call yourself free men? You call yourself Danes?" The woman growled her disgust and spat to the ground.
"Oh, but I know just what to call you," Hallerna snarled, turning back to the vile little man, no more than a few steps away from him now. "Harald Nithskald."
tah dah! And back to you, for rounding out our little misadventure here! ;)
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