Howling at the Moon - [A Werewolf Adventure]

It's All Fun and Games Until Someone Loses A Life

While the entire party prepared to depart, Lore summoned the closest group of thugs to his presence. Dropping whatever they were doing, they hurriedly rushed to their alpha. One of the grim faced bad guys began to pick up a nervous sweat, pondering on what Lore had in mind, what he planned to do with them. 

Why not have some fun before we leave, eh? We've just about got these kids in our grasp, Lore thought to himself.

"The five of you listen close," Lore said in a low tone but still at a high enough octave for the men in front of him to barely understand what he needed from them. "I want you to stand in a circle," and the men moved into position just as they were told.

"Now I want you to pick up the largest piece of solid earth next to you." Just as before, the five henchmen hovered over the dark ground in search of anything that looked remotely heavy in their vicinity. After completing this task, they stood there hosting a somewhat quizzical look upon their ugly dirty faces. Two men weilded huge, thick branches and the other three acquired large rocks, all weapons eqipped with a collection of condensed dirt.

A slight breeze blew through the compact, yet simple display of the woods, only about fifty yards from Auron's little run away spot. The warm wind of the mid summer breeze rustled the greenery high above their heads and at the foliage around their knees. It had seemed as if the world was trying to silence everything and everyone. The shaking of the leaves had almost produced the sound of person whispering "Sshhhh-" into the emptiness.

Lore clapped his hands together once in bitter delight. "Excellent." He brought his pale hand to his chin and lightly tugged on the few confused hairs that were visibly sprouted. "Each of you men look to the left of you."

The five men craned their necks to see who stood to the left of them.

"Okay, look to the right of you now," Lore said shifting his weight from one foot to another.

Now, with an even more puzzled look bestowed on the faces of the men, they turned their heads and peeked at the person who stood just off to the right.

Lore folded his arms and balanced his weight between his two feet, looking mostly interested for some odd reason or another. The henchmen could see it themselves. Something was up.

"Ah! Wonderful. If you haven't guessed what I was planning before maybe you deserve this, but the man to the left of you will be receiving a painful strike to the back of their head." The men caught their breath and retreated ever-so-slightly. "This means that the person to the right of you will be delivering that single painful blow to the back of your head," and with that Lore chuckled.

He was now speaking a bit higher which had caused some of the other lingering followers of Lore to catch hold of the scene and become strongly drawn into the tension, almost like watching a movie. Dom was somewhere among the gathered cheering like a madman. Spit was leaning against a tree with his arms folded and scar sewn tightly shut, showing clean signs of a quick healing process. The perks of being a werewolf.

"On the count of three, and literally I mean on the word 'three', I want you to try and split the head of that man who stands on your left hand side."

The crowd circled around the six people, focusing their attention on the group of five and then to the pack leader and back only to switch targets over and over again.

"One..." Lore began, the same smile that crept on his face when he saw Lenora for the first time in two years returned once again. That infamous, devilish grin drawing itself over the face of a monster.

"Two..." Lore continued, a percentage of the gazing crowd chimed in which Lore didn't mind. It was all fun and games. The main focus of the entertainment raised the heavy but insignificant fragments of mother earth shakily above their heads, tiny crumbs crashed hopelessly on the heads of the five men where they bounced off and plummeted it's way back beneath their feet. 

A giant inhale from the entire crowd including the ring master himself as he shouted "three!"

A heartbeat of a moment passes.

The cluster of Lore's men stood in utter awe, eyes widened from the sight.

Lore looked actually quite surprised. All five men stood just as healthy as they were ten minutes ago. "Well I'll be damned-" Lore started happily, but an unexpected movement was the reason for his sudden pause.

One of the dared men, who carried a heavy branch, reared back and smashed the bark over the head of the man to the left of him, one of the goons who was holding a small boulder. Clumps of dirt spewed in all directions at the sound of a skull being cracked open. Dark blood seeped through and matted the poor man's hair as he fell. Eyes rolling to the back of sockets, he was dead before he hit the warm dirt.

Many of the crowded people made sudden outbursts and some made the sound your mouth makes when you breathe in through clenched teeth.

Lore cringed, bringing one foot slightly off the ground, the tips of his shoe barely touching the surface. "H-oh shit!" Lore said startled. "I really didn't want you to hit him, I was simply having some fun."

The three men who held off on their assault on each other dropped their weapons, and dust and collections of broken down bulks shot up over their feet.

While the others moved closer the body of their fallen comrade, the man who had done the deed was still in his followed through position, frozen from either disbelief or self hatred.

"Damn, Collin." Lore walked over and patted Collin on his back who even in the presence of his leader still stood completely unmoven. "I didn't know you had it in you. One thing I do know is that you certainly are more loyal than the other four; clearly." Lore put his arm around the now more relaxed Collin who looked in through the crowd and saw the legs sprawled on the floor.

Lore continued, "And because of your horrendous actions, you have now been moved up to the number three rank, right under Dom."

Collin didn't know if he should be proud or ashamed. Honored or disgraced. Whatever he was feeling, he pushed it to the side and accepted the role with a mere nod.

"Congratulations," Lore gave Collin a firm pat on the back and walked off, heading away from the scene. Collin stood there still staring at the lifeless body. A hardened feeling grew in his chest. If there was one hundred gallons of remorse flowing through Collin, he had just poked a conscious hole in himself as every ounce of regret rushed from his being. Just like that, Collin found himself a new manhood like a dollar bill floating through the wind. He dusted off the black from his palms, though he still knew he would forever be filthy.

Lore put his two pinkies in his mouth and blew to emit a high pitched whistle that broke any and all murmur. His stooges snapped their attention in his direction as he whipped his finger in circles.

"Let's go find these God-forsaken children."