Like a creep.
That's what Irwin felt like as he strolled down the park half-naked, carrying a backpack full of bullets and guns.
The moonlit night enveloping the verdant trees in a majestic ambience one would expect in European forests of old. It was a shame, though, for any semblance of green serenity would soon crumble under the combined might of human machinery and vindictive divinity.
As he placed guns and its corresponding ammunition on every bench in the vicinity, Irwin inhaled the fresh air of the midnight sky. It was not every day that he would be in the famous park, after all.
After dealing with his part of the mission, Irwin sat on the bench and tried to figure out why he was being so reckless and emotional.
[ Character | Skill | Supernatural Record | Status | Quest | Trade Shop ]
'Status.'
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Status
Physical Status: Lightly injured
Mental Status: Emotionally Unstable
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Resistance/s: Greater Werewolf Curse; Minor Poisoning; Minor -> Lesser Spell
Weakness/es:
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Blessing/s:
Curse/s: Gapþrosnir's Bane
Mark/s: Touch of the Almighty
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"What the fuck is G-gap-gapporos- fuck me!" Irwin massaged his temple, unable to pronounce the curse's name. "Do I even have anything to remove it?"
'Skill.'
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|Skill|
[ Personal Skill/s: Marksman (Lvl 02); Minor Alcohol Tolerance; Natural Order (Lvl MAX); Unarmed Combat (Lvl 02); Swordsmanship (Lvl 01); Krousurgy (Lvl 01) ]
[ Job Skill/s: Human Magic (Lvl 03); Arcane Resistance (Lvl 05) ]
[ System Skill/s: Natural Immunity (Lvl MAX); Enhanced Physique (Lvl 02) ]
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|Magik|
[ Personal Magik ]
▪︎ Mind Guardian (Lvl 02) (Human)
▪︎ Flame Whip (Lvl 05) (Human)
▪︎ Blood Scry (Lvl 05) (Fairy)
▪︎ Blight Hex (Lvl 01) (Human)
[ System Magik ]
▪︎ Ward Of Obviation (Lvl 01) (Pagan)
▪︎ Age Transfiguration (Lvl 01) (Pagan)
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He cursed his rather short repertoire of spells, vowing to himself that the next time he had downtime that he would increase it to at least cover every aspect of the world's magical system.
'Spell Purge wouldn't do any good. Maybe Mind Guardian can temporarily block the curse? Shit! Let's hope it works.'
If it didn't, then they would have to go to plan B. Which, frankly, was better than plan A, but he just wanted a rematch against Woden.
Opening up his briefcase and taking out the hex bag for the Mind Guardian spell, Irwin spoke the words of incantation. "Daingnich d' inntinn, Daingnich d' inntinn…"
He chanted repeatedly as the green hue traveled from the hex bag and onto his skull. As the spell took effect, he felt a sudden relief from an invisible headache. As if he had taken off a tight helmet and felt the breeze of the mid-winter air.
He checked again and saw that the curse was still there, but had minimized its effect
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Curse/s: Gapþrosnir's Bane (Weakened)
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Sighing in relief, he went on his way, but still grumbled since they're probably voting to use plan B.
A few minutes later, having circled the park, Irwin met up with Gordon and Samantha taking a break.
"Is that so? That's good. But If any of them tries to hit you, just hit back once. Hard." Gordon's finishing sentence alarmed Irwin.
Samantha giggled as she took a bite out of her club sandwich. "Cool. My turn. Is my sister dead?" She asked, quickly replacing her laughing smile with pursed lips.
"Yeah." Gordon nodded nonchalantly, opting to save the girl some trouble. "We investigated her murder on the way here."
"I see." She nodded solemnly. "I had a feeling… Did this Woden kill her?"
"Yes." Answered Irwin, dropping the backpack next to their bench. "Woden did so because… you're a Greythorne. Unfortunately, you and your sister were near him when he was unleashed."
"Then kill him for me, will you?" She asked of Irwin, determination in her eyes.
"I will." Irwin responded. "At least that's what Garth's looking for."
As if waiting for his words, Garth appeared before them, sweat dampening his shirt as he sprinted. "They're here!"
"I saw the smoke cloud about half a mile from here!" He continued, before giving Irwin a piece of paper. "That's what Ella read from Anastasia's books. I don't think we can get Juton's blood on short notice though, so I asked Bobby, and he said we could substitute it with a blood of their own race if we enchant it first."
"Aesirs? I don't think we have that on stock, man." Irwin replied, checking the note. "Shit. We don't have this type of wood. We go with plan B."
"Plan B?" Garth's eyes widened.
"Plan B!" Gordon was excited.
The two went about their ways, hiding in plain sight, while Irwin went towards Samantha.
He took out his personal pistol and handed it to her. "This is a M1911 equipped with iron bullets. Do you know how to use a gun?"
"I-I think so. It's been a while since my dad took me to a range." She flicked the safety off before taking out the magazine and counted the bullets. "16 bullets. Enough for me to kill what, exactly?"
"Ghosts. Woden has an army of ghosts." He answered as she expertly fiddled with the pistol, weirdly proud as she complimented the custom grip.
Soon, the sounds of a motorcade resounded across the dimly lit woodlands as a mountain of dust cloud billowed from the west.
Irwin was left alone in the open, his pockets filled with hex bags used for Flame Whip. His torso was bereft of clothing, revealing the sweat flowing in his well-defined abdomen. A product of the daily work-out, lucky genetics, and the system's purging.
The growls of the cavalcade grew closer as, led by a pack of four bloodhounds, Woden astride his steel horse appeared before his blue eyes.
The gleaming sword, which Irwin identified as the missing silver sword of the Wolf's Bane, in Woden's hand.
Like a knight preparing for a joust, Woden extended his sword hand to the front, twisting his free hand to accelerate towards his enemy.
"Flagello!" a sickening thwip erupted out of Irwin's hand as the flaming whip slithered around his arm. He, too, rushed towards Woden, aiming to meet him head-on.
As if accepting his challenge, the bloodhounds made way for him, going past him and towards the hiding hunters. Seeing their chosen spots being targeted, both Garth and Gordon revealed themselves and unleashed hellfire at the mutts.
Neither Woden nor Irwin cared for the gunfire as the two met in melee range.
Irwin, hand engulfed with blue flames, unleashed a devastating punch.
Woden, sword in hand, tilted his horse and met his opponent's punch with his silver blade powered by the acceleration of his motorcycle.
The two forces met and the resulting explosion of energy created a sonic boom that disrupted the very space they exist in.
Blades of deadly winds tore through the nearby benches and trees as fire ignited the air around the two combatants.
The force of the altercation launched Irwin back a couple of meters while the billowing wind removed Woden from his seat. His body broke the cobblestone paths as he landed on the ground.
"Get up, Richard!" Shouted Gordon as he killed the last of the bloodhounds. He changed his weapon as he heard the rhythmic growls of the undead army. "Plan C! Plan C!"
Gordon, wielding a Colt AR-15 in each hand, a relic from before the ban, filled with iron bullets, unleashed a hail of metal storm to ghost riders a hundred meters away.
Garth knelt down on one knee, handled a Winchester Trench Gun, blasted slugs at Woden, temporarily preventing him from getting back up.
The ghost riders disappeared one after another before Gordon's barrage. Those who survived did so by detouring towards the thick foliages of the trees. Their wails kept down to the minimum.
"Reloading!" Garth yelled as he threw down the empty shotgun and replaced it with a newer model before proceeding to resume his bombardment. "I'm good!"
Irwin clenched his fist, mind still reeling from the explosion, but he persevered nonetheless. He tried to stand up using his right hand, but found it too painful to use. Blood dripped continuously out of a deep slash in his palm, leading down to the bones in his wrist.
Thankfully, he didn't lose a finger during the encounter.
Using his left hand, Irwin rolled away from an incoming rider. His right hand flexed through the pain and grabbed another hex bag. "Flagello!"
His flaming whip tore through the rider like a hot knife on a morning dew. He subjected his body to a magical pulse, quickly figuring out what remains of his magical power.
'Loss a fifth. That's good.' He thought as he dispersed a few more riders, engulfing him in smoke and ash.
"Return to Plan A!" He ordered before running towards Woden, his flames engulfing his arms yet again. "I got that one-eyed son of a bitch!"