#gundahar

Lucas turned around and did a full-body shrug. "I don't know! Do you? Want to?"

Knack eased up into standing, buying time to think. He watched the churning water below as he did so. He brought up his hands in a marching position and said, "it wouldn't do us much good." Then made like he was going somewhere.

"Then why offer?" Lucas called after him, before hastening to catch up.

While Knack wasn’t running per se, his stride length was much longer than that of Lucas and he had a habit of walking briskly. So Lucas nearly had to sprint, not only to keep up but also to close the distance.

"Wait up!" Lucas shouted.

And Knack did, giving a salute of acknowledgement. "Sorry." He turned to look up at the control tower.

"Do you think," Lucas huffed, "Gundahar left his airship?"

"Hope so." Knack pointed up. "If we climb to the tippy top of the tower, we might be able to see the whole island from up there."

“Should be Vines, some of the Guard.... Maybe corrupted Wildlife. All we have is what’s in the area generally. It isn’t anything we cannot handle, of course. But just so we’re prepared.”

At some point, Gunnar’s injuries twinged. They were mostly healed, anyway, so, he felt he was in a good place to at least lead this operation. He wouldn’t be exerting himself as much anyway. Especially with Ishild, Gundahar, and Svlen all watching his back, making sure he didn’t perish.The march through the Brink was easy, and each had their weapons at the ready, and wouldn’t you know it? The intel was good.

Vines were easily dealt with, the Guard hadn’t been expecting to face a Norn hunting party. Gundahar made good on his heritage, tearing all that stood in his way to complete shreds. Ishild, on the other hand, was quick, and deadly. Whatever she did was something Gunnar couldn’t exactly pick up was he worked himself, but, whatever she was doing, was supremely effective at cutting down a half dozen of the foes. Finally, Svlen, despite being blind, somehow was pulling his own weight in the battle, his thundering hammer crashing with force into corrupted flesh, sending bodies flying into trees and cliffs alike. 

The camp itself was encased in Mordremoth’s own tendrils, cutting off every direction from approach, except for the one way they got in. They knew it was a temporary fix, but, once they lit the signal fire in the middle of the Camp, what remained of the Pact forces would ride in after them, and burn the rest, and regain their foothold in this part of the jungle. A simple job, and they would be cut off for a while, but, that was exactly why they were clearing the Mordrem out.

Things were simple, until a screech erupted through the jungle, accompanied by thumping feet. Something large was headed their way, and those vines were closing. Whatever it was would tear apart all of their work-- And themselves, if nothing was done about it. They all knew it, by the glances they gave each other, weapons at the reading. They couldn’t hold the camp and fight at the same time. Gunnar tried to step up, but winced. There was a new warmth in his shoulder that got him faltering. At this point, Svlen heard that catch in his friend’s voice, and -grinned-, placing a hand on the opposite shoulder, shaking his head, and pointing to the camp, then himself, and the ground below him.

Gunnar sighed a bit, looking between the three, then nodded. Any of them would have been able to deal with what Mordremoth could throw at them, and Svlen, with his mighty hammer, was eager to do it. They made their way to the center of the camp, while Svlen turned in his vigil over the opening, facing out into the jungle.

Before the vines completely closed, the last the three saw? A massive Vinetooth, crashing through the trees, eyes crazed, and trained on Svlen as he raised his hammer, and charged forward with a battle cry. Creaks were heard as the vines knit themselves shut, and all was quiet for two seconds that seemed to stretch on-- Then the crack of thunder, a massive flash of light, the thumping of the creature stilled, and the Norn inside let out a triumphant cheer. Gunnar mentioned something about buying them all a keg once they returned to their hall, two of them, just so Svlen could get one to himself.

Still, they turned their eyes to the Tendrils that had erupted out of the ground to meet them, and got to their final work, holding out.

---------

It wasn’t too long, before they heard the sounds of marching Vigil, the rising sound of flamethrowers billowing, burning the vines that surrounded the camp. What they found was Gunnar trying to argue the fact that he got just as many, if not more than Gundahar, by the end count.. Gundahar only grunted in return, sometimes pushing a number that proved his own count, while Ishild sharpened her blade, keeping quiet that even if she didn’t care, she probably got the most. Still, Gunnar rose, with a grin, as vines retreated, and the small Pact team went to take their place. He stepped forward, nodding along to his peers and comrades, while his eye searched above their heads for a certain armored behemoth.

But, what he found first? A shard of ancient Jotun stone hit his boot, giving him pause as he looked forward. The massive Vinetooth’s corpse laid on the ground, limp, long dead, but not quite reclaimed by the jungle. It was a fortunate sign that got Gunnar grinning once more, stepping forward to see if his brother sat with his quarry, but, as footsteps passed, and medics stood, shaking their heads solemnly from their grouping around a spot on the ground.

Gunnar froze, Gundahar and Ishild finally following him on either side, when they found the sight. Svlen sprawled back, blood on his armor around his gut, head laid, eyes closed, smile on his face. He could have been sleeping, at that point, but... Each one knew. Felt in their deepest selves, the loss. Gunnar broke the quiet first. A long, mournful howl of heartbreak echoed into the jungle, as everyone watched on.