Three days later, Mary triumphed in her creation of the Wolfor poison, following approximately 60 failed attempts and numerous sleepless nights. Despite her lack of botanical knowledge, she relied on dogged persistence, island texts that had survived the pirate invasion years ago, and perhaps a stroke of fate.
Mary meticulously ground the flowers into fine particles, then used an unconventional method to boil them. Instead of fire, she submerged her hands in the water, channeling her electrical energy to generate the necessary heat and trigger a chemical reaction. The resultant concoction was then carefully filtered through a narrow glass tube into a container specially crafted by the blacksmith.
As for the craftsman Lor, blacksmith Tor, and Captain Jack, they managed to finish the harpoon cannon just in time.
With all of them gathered around the harpoon cannon, Tor carefully coated the tips of the harpoon with Wolfor, turning the iron a deep purple hue. He then placed the harpoon inside the cannon and secured the safety ropes to the sides.
"Ye sure this be workin'?" asked Mary.
"Aye, Mary. We tested it once," replied Jack.
They then coated the tips of the long spears with poison for the Howling Protectors and added some to the bullets of Jack's flintlock pistols, just in case.
...
As night descended, the village glowed with the light of numerous torches, casting an eerie glow above and below.
The Howling Protectors, along with Jack and Mary, moved as a single unit on the ground, forming a modified spear circle formation. The troops were spaced out in a semicircle, with the harpoon cannon on wheels positioned in the center. Each defender on the outer perimeter wielded a shield and spear, while those in the middle were armed solely with spears.
"How long since the first blaze, mate?" Jack asked Ort, eyes darting around.
"Five minutes, Cap'n," Ort replied.
"Oi, next layer!" Jack's voice boomed, cutting through the night.
In the forest behind them, determined civilians ignited the Wolfor flowers they had strategically placed earlier, digging shallow trenches to prevent the fire from spreading uncontrollably.
The group pressed forward, the civilians continuing to ignite more lines of Wolfor flowers. Their plan was to tactically flush out any lurking werewolves from the forest, directing them towards the waiting group.
At the edge of the forest, civilians ignited lines of Wolfor flowers at predetermined intervals, methodically guiding their movements as they advanced.
As night fell, their strategic efforts subtly guided the beast towards their intended target, just a step ahead of the center.
Certainly, there was peril for the villagers, but they chose to risk their lives, fighting for their island's future. One cannot live in perpetual fear.
The group's breaths echoed unevenly, their fear palpable, trembling with each exhale.
"Why must it be at night?" Mary queried, attempting to break the tense silence.
"The beast favors the night, its reasons unknown," Ort replied sternly. "No chatter, focus."
With a sigh, Mary stifled further speech, her resolve evident.
"AUUUUUUU!"
A deafening howl pierced the air, vibrating through their eardrums and gripping their hearts with fear.
"FORMATION ONE!" Jack commanded, his troops swiftly maneuvering into a tight circle.
The semicircle closed ranks, shields pressed to the ground, arms tense with spears ready, shoulder to shoulder.
In the center, Jack, Mary, Ort, and a handful of others stood poised with torches and spears, the harpoon cannon at the ready.
Echoing the first, quieter howls surrounded them.
Above, the sky was not its usual clear self; heavy clouds loomed, their dark edges spreading like ink stains across the sky.
"I smell petrichor," Jack remarked, the earthy scent of rain on the wind.
"Be ready, lads!" Jack's enthusiasm was infectious, his gaze sharp.
"Ay, ay," they chorused, their fear tempered by trust in Jack's leadership. His confidence and aura alone bolstered their morale.
"Mary, shed some light 'round us," Jack ordered, gesturing with his finger.
Mary channeled her powers, casting arcs of electricity that illuminated their surroundings, revealing the pack of beasts lurking in the darkness, though not yet the beast itself.
The heavens opened above, releasing a deluge at the worst possible moment. Torches sputtered and died, leaving only the crackling light of Mary's electric arcs.
"Blast it all," cursed Jack, his frustration clear.
The wolves, mere pawns of the Beast's control, launched coordinated attacks, not one-by-one but in strategic waves.
Fortunately, their defensive formation held strong against the onslaught from all directions. Despite being wounded during the attack intervals, they fought on bravely, poisoned and in pain.
"Hold 'em back for a minute!!!" Jack commanded, his mind racing with a plan.
"Ye be askin' much, but we'll give our best," Ort replied grimly, launching his spear into a wolf's flank.
As time wore on, the wolves grew fiercer, yet the defenders managed to thin their numbers significantly.
"It's done. Assume Formation TWO," Jack ordered. The second formation entailed a full-on defensive stance, shields held steady with both hands.
Meanwhile, Mary continued to illuminate their surroundings, grumbling inwardly, "Why must I be the blasted light source? I want to fight too, curse that seadog."
The wolves struck again, a hit-and-run tactic, their vicious jaws barred but unable to breach the stout shields. As they retreated, many slipped and fell in the sodden mud.
Around each wolf's ankles, green vines held them fast—Jack's handiwork. In that crucial minute, he had conjured a massive vine that sent out tendrils, entwining the ground and lying in wait.
"SPREAD. ATTACK," Jack commanded.
The shields shifted, creating openings for the central group to break formation and dispatch the wolves one by one.
"FORMATION ONE!"
The last of the wolves fell silent, their bodies strewn across the muddy battlefield. In the darkness, the Beast, enraged and hidden, unleashed a deafening howl.