Chapter 20 Voice of the Pack
This chapter took me a lot longer than I expected. I have to rewrite some parts many times to what I think captures the changes in the character's mental capacity. It was quite a fun thought process, actually. I hope you like it.
Well, that and COVID-19 quarantine. I started and finished Salt&Sanctuary, a Beastmen campaign on Total War Warhammer 2, and drafted more Ikoria on MTGA than I should have.
Mutate is a bonkers mechanic and I have a fun time drafting it. Standard Meta, on the other hand, is insane.
*Just realized I misspelled Sarkhan Vol as Val for all the chapters. My bad. My bad. - 28/4/2020
…
Q&A
Guest: Well Catelyn did pray for Jon's death so the guy was kinda right. Man, I would love to see Brynden face if Catelyn would confess that she did pray for Jon death.
Well, being right doesn't mean you won't get a punch in the face. Catelyn will probably never confess on her own. I have something else planned though.
...
This ambush couldn't go more wrong. With a spear through his chest, how in the name of Avacyn could Garruk still stand?
And how could he still retain this much strength? Does the addition of black mana grant him such an ability to defy death?
Anyway, if that brute thinks she would allow him to harm her precious snowy pup, he would be for a surprise. Ironically, werewolf Arlinn doesn't fuck around.
It is so easy to her ground when Garruk solely focuses on Jon. Her muscle tightens, her ears erect, her eyes turn sharp. With one swift movement, she readies herself for a pounce. As her feet touch the ground, she summons whatever mana she could get. As she expected, the mana available is scared and she finds it hard to contend with the other two.
But that's doesn't matter, she is getting what she needs for the job anyway.
*HOWL*
Arlinn's body becomes a blur as she rushes the exposed back of her opponent. Red mana floods her claws, enhancing its edge to a razor-sharp and making it eager to rend Garruk's thick hide.
No matter how strong he enhances it, the flesh is still flesh. She might not tear him apart in one strike. She might not tear off a chunk of his shoulder. But that is not her goal. She doesn't need much, just enough to disrupt his concentration. Jon's fire will do the rest of the heavy lifting.
How her little pup capable of unleashing that amount of fire? It is still beyond her. During their time with Atarka clan, she had yet to see one seasoned shaman capable of such feat. Not even that little brat Sakta.
Speaking of Sakta. Good things that she remains on Tarkir. Had she known about Innistrad and Thalia, it would be a great show to watch. Probably not for her clueless pup, but it would be for everyone else.
Arlinn's speed is unmatched in this battle, as her claws reach its target before Garruk could even notice. The bladed nails cut through leather armor with ease but meet with heavy resistance from Garruk's flesh. In the end, it could only cause a shallow wound, but that is enough to break the brute's concentration.
To add an insult to injury, she reaches for the lodged spear with her paws, slams her foot on his rear, and yanks the weapon with all her might. The spear flies free. The hole that is used to pluck is rapidly replaced by the fountain of blood that is so severely tainted if she had not mistaken.
'So that's what keeps him alive. No matter, the wound should be enough to break the brute's concentration.'
With a ward disrupted, Jon fire sears to Garruk's body without any resistance. The intensity of the flame is drowned out only by Garruk's scream of pain. Finally, they had one. The ambush is a success. It might not be flawless, but a success, nonetheless.
OR NOT.
The tainted blood coagulates as soon as it touches air. Even she doesn't have any affinity to black mana, she could feel the sheer amount of its movement toward the wound. The hole shrinks quickly as all life, be it grass or soil, are drained empty. Instead of dying, Garruk becomes stronger than before.
Well. Shit.
…
Meanwhile, the mother wolf is about to realize how wrong her judgment was when they pick a fight with Garruk, her little pup is having a peculiar self-discovery.
The strains of channeling an immense amount of mana to cast Dragon Roar is something Jon never got used to, and he thinks he never will. Every time he uses it, something inside him awakens and tries to wrest control of his body. Vaevictis Asmadi told him it is his dragon blood that wants to be in control, but even he doubts that was all it is.
Yet, now everything seems easier. He feels no resistance when he unleashes the spell. Something must have changed, but he doesn't know what it is. And that makes him uneasy.
Too bad he cannot afford to be uneasy at the moment. He is too busy burning another planeswalker who, beyond his understanding, is defying death time and time again, right now.
*HOWL*
He recognizes the howl and feels proud. He knows that his mother wouldn't fall that easily, but he couldn't help but worry about her when Garruk slammed her to the ground. Now the brute is occupied by his flame, he would be totally defenseless against her attack.
'Checkmate, probably'. He doesn't understand the concept of chess, but the adults said it what to say when you win that game. That must mean something.
Even as prepared as he is, he doesn't expect his mother to yank the spear free from Garruk's chest. It was brutal to the extreme. Garruk black blood is everywhere as it jets upward and rains down the sky. How could a man, no matter how giant, could have this much blood? And why is it black?
Jon concentrates his fire. His instinct tells him not to touch the black liquid. His commonsense agrees. Nothing good would come from it. So, he decides to burn it all away at the same time he burns away the source. He might need help in case it affects his mother though. Perhaps Sorin could lend some assistance considering it is related to his order.
Then, the unthinkable happened. Again. The damn bastard, not him, doesn't die and somehow heal all his wounds
'By Avacyn 's grace, is this the fabled plot armor?' Thought Jon.A situation some might call pot calling the kettle black, but he didn't know that.
And before his thought finally coalesces, he is hit by a powerful explosion. The force behind it is so immense even his wel- anchored feet don't put up any resistance to it. His concentration on his spell is instantly interrupted as he is thrown backward against his will.
FUCK
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
For each second the brute screams, his voice changes a little by little. It becomes less and less human if Jon had to put it. It is not a bestial cry like he and his mother does when they were transformed. It is not a dragon growl like Uncle Vol when he, well, most times he expresses emotion actually.
Come to think of it, it was the only non-verbal response Sarkhan Vol ever give, that he knows of anyway. Annoyed, darkening growl. Happy, lightly growl. Hungry, stomach growl. Spending time with his mother and aunt Narset …. Actually, he remembers that a lot of noises were generated among the three of them.
'Cede the thought, you idiot. You are fighting another dangerous planeswalker!' Jon reminds himself as he springs upright. He couldn't afford to think anything else when fighting a foe this caliber.
And Jon is correct on that, for he finds that Garruk's axe flies against his chest at a blitzing speed.
Fuck
His armament proves useless against such raw power. Whatever mana he channels to protect himself in haste cannot bear the burden. The blade sinks deep into his dense flesh and he is sure many of his bones are instantly broken. The pain is so unsurmountable Jon doesn't even register it when his vision starts fading. Everything stops as time seems to slow down to a crawl.
The only thing that he could count as good luck is that the ax is thrown, had the man swing it, Jon would be cleaved in twain by now.
…
A wise man once said that each of us has two wolves inside. One is Evil. It is anger, jealously, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other is good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The two wolves fight one another, and the victor is the one that we feed. A good parable as any parable about self-reflection indeed. Solid advice for everyone to live by and make the multiverse a better place.
Unfortunately, the same wise man decided it was a good idea to preach this teaching to a werewolf. His last disciple laughed at him before tearing his throat out and feasted on his flesh.
There is only one wolf inside any werewolf, and it doesn't fuck around. When push comes to shove, it will take over its host body and render their complex thought into primal instinct. Some might resist its influence better than others, but they will eventually succumb.
Arlinn Kord might think that she is forever free from its control when her spark ignited, and she accepted her bestial side as one of her aspects. She believed that her humanity will always be in the dominant, and for a long time that held true. Until this exact moment.
Her foe seems to be unkillable. Her son is wounded, and possibly soon to be dead. Her power alone, even when she draws from the wolf spirit and the plane's mana, is not enough. She needs more power. MORE POWER.
And it is this power that the wolf spirit so happily granted, for a price of course. After all, it is the law of nature. If one what to take, one must give something in return. It chooses her humanity.
For the first time since her spark ignited, the Beast Within had awakened. And oh, it is pissed mad.
*HOWL*
The wolf spirit is enhancing her maternal instinct a hundred-fold. It will do anything to keep her pup safe. Even that thing is the example of madness itself. Her foe seems to be unkillable, and she would never run away.
Not when it means leaving her little pup to his fate with the brute.
With the flood gate to the wolf spirit opened wide, Arlinn's power surges threefold. The flexing of her thigh muscle is enough to crack the muddy ground. Her body launches toward her enemy, leaving a deep pawprint on the earth. One. Two. Three. Three steps are all it takes to close the gap. And after that, come claws. CLAWS. The claws that are saturated with mana in order to hone it beyond razor-sharpness. The claws that threaten to rend everything it contacts with asunder. The claws that cut through Garruk's defense like it was nothing.
The werewolf claws do its damage. Blood gushes from Garruk's face as the boney blades tear half of his face off. Time seems to stagger as the two clashes again. The werewolf speed is too much for the huntsmen to handle. Each of her moves becomes a blur as she darts left and right to dodge his attack while ditching out her owns. However, the werewolf doesn't come out of the bout undamaged. Garruk's blood is now corrosive. Yes, it is unexpected. Yes, it wasn't just a minute ago. Yes, it is now. The Veil's curse is unpredictable, and it is fruitless to try to even understand.
Not that Arlinn currently possesses the sound enough sentience to do so either. The wolf spirit doesn't care. In fact, it doesn't give a fuck. The only thing that matters is the result. The result that seems to be unattainable at the moment, because the brute doesn't even flinch at his wound. And the wound starts rapidly healing as soon as her claws left.
Change of plan. If serrations don't work maybe pure blunt forces would. Dropped to the ground, the werewolf crouches as her muscle once again tightened. The strains within her body make a popping sound as magic infuses each and every fiber of her flesh. It will be quick and brutal. It needs to be least she got caught by the curse's defense.
With a single growl, the werewolf sprints on all four. She moves fast like a lightning strike. So fast, in fact, that Garruk's eyes cannot keep up with her position. Her body shifts and turns as her stance changes. She launches herself into midair, cocks her leg backward as she passes over his head, and performs a mighty roundhouse kick right at his head. The sound of bone snapping from the impact is loud and clear. She grinds her teeth to endure the pain as she lands. Her tibia bone seems to be threatened to snap in two from the same impact. Looking over, she sees that Garruk's neck is snapped into an impossible angle.
Then it cocks back to its original position with a deafening *crack*. At least he seems to be disoriented and is spacing out. This is ridiculous.
*sniff*sniff*
Setting her bone straight, she nudges her nose at unconscious Jon. His life is fleeting but not yet gone. There is even less blood pooling around his body than it should have been. It is as if something is trying its hardest to keep him alive. For that, she couldn't thank it enough.
*slurp*
She licks his face to check his temperature. That action almost burns her tongue. His body is blazingly hot. Hotter than a burning log in her mouth that night she spent in Devil's Breach during her youth. It was the very same night that she learned not to drink and transformed. It turned out that her bestial side doesn't react well to alcohol.
Her son is alive. That is as good as she could ask for. Now all she had to do is to drive the foe off and take her son to a safe place.
Well, you know what they say? The third time a charm, right?
*growl*
…
As the battle about to reaches its climax, the Veil's curse gnaws at Garruk's mind and brings forth another dark entity. An entity of which its mentality is yet to be fully developed. Still, it is powerful enough to overtake the body. Its thought is, to say the least, simple and direct. It is at this moment where Garruk Wildspeaker recedes and GARRUK is born.
Garruk was weak. So weak that Garruk got ambushed by preys and cannot fight them off. Garruk would die if GARRUK doesn't come out. GARRUK is strong. Strongest there is. GARRUK doesn't flinch at the wound Garruk received. GARRUK will fight two-on-one and win. Boy tried to fry GARRUK. Boy got ax in his chest.
Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.
GARRUK IS THE STRONGEST THERE IS!
Wolfwoman doesn't learn lesson. She still wants to fight GARRUK.
Wolfwoman is stupid because GARRUK is a good teacher. When GARRUK gives prey a lesson they all take it to their grave. GARRUK hates stupid prey.
Why can't Wolfwoman be like Boy, Boy learned fast.
Wolfwoman flings mud to GARRUK face. It would not slow GARRUK down. Puny mud is weak, GARRUK is strong. Stupid Wolfwoman thinks that mud can distract GARRUK. Ha.
GARRUK smashes!
GARRUK misses. GARRUK smashes! Wolfwoman tries to hurt GARRUK. GARRUK itches.
GARRUK misses again. GARRUK smashes!
GARRUK misses again! Wolfwoman doesn't stay still. GARRUK smashes faster!
Wolfwoman dodges again! Stupid Wolfwoman. GARRUK is getting bored.
GARRUK punches ground very very hard. Wolfwoman dodges the punch but not the aftershock. HA!
GARRUK walks toward Wolfwoman to give last lesson. This time stupid Wolfwoman will finally learn.
*HOWL*
GARRUK turns and finds that Boy isn't as smart as GARRUK believes Boy to be. Boy turns into a grey eye's white giant Wolfman. Ha! GARRUK SMASH!
Wolfman receives GARRUK's punch to the face. Wolfman is so weak he flinches in pain. GARRUK tries to follow through but Wolfman slaps GARRUK across the chest. GARRUK is though so GARRUK doesn't flinch. Physic isn't so though so it sent GARRUK backward.
Wolfman then opens mouth and unleashes green fire. GARRUK feels hot. GARRUK doesn't like being hot. So GARRUK needs ax back.
Wolfwoman uses this chance to try sneak attack GARRUK again. Damn stupid Wolfwoman. GARRUK will improvise. GARRUK grabs Wolfwoman and fling Wolfwoman to Wolfman.
Wolfwoman collides with Wolfman and stop Wolfman from spilling fire. GARRUK rushes in and take axe back. Wolfman bleeds out a lot. Ha! GARRUK swings his ax at Wolfman's face.
Somehow ax only graze around Wolfman's eye sockets. Wolfman gets a shallow wound instead of a giant axe to the face. GARRUK is amazed.
Wolfman then recovers and slaps GARRUK away again. Damn weak physics, GARRUK is sent flying back. GARRUK bleeds but doesn't hurt. GARRUK doesn't like this situation.
Wolfman and Wolfwoman cannot hurt GARRUK, but GARRUK also cannot hurt Wolfman without getting burned. GARRUK doesn't like being burned. GARRUK doesn't like this situation.
GARRUK hates Wolfman and Wolfwoman. GARRUK hates punny Necromancer. GARRUK hates this plane. GARRUK hates the other planes. GARRUK will planeswalk away to Kaldheim. He hates that frigid plane a little less.
This is but a flesh wound. GARRUK will come back for a rematch. GARRUK will call it a draw.
…
Meanwhile, inside Jon's mindscape is not any less hectic than that of Garruk. The only difference is that the entity within is more than ten thousand years old and is one of the most terrifying entities in the multiverse.
As he spectated from within, Vaevictis Asmadi is mostly amused. It was an unwinnable fight for the shewolf and his host. Their foe has access to a power source like no other. This giant of a man that they are fighting is about to become a demon. It is a curse, some would say, and a powerful one at that. What sort of artifact would cause such a potent curse? Even within Jon's mindscape, he could taste the rich black mana from the curse. Such power will keep the man alive throughout this fight.
He couldn't say the same for the shewolf and his host, though. Perhaps the time for his intervention is coming faster than he thought.
He needs to know where the curse is originated. The shewolf's friend said something about an artifact called the Chain Veil. To think that such artifact is currently in the hand of a mortal.
What a waste!
Bah. This wouldn't do. How could a mere mortal deserve to possess such an artifact? This circumstance has a scheme written all over it. Something that Nicol Bolas would do.
This wouldn't do at all. He must have that artifact. Not only it would boost his power, but if this is one of his cousin's schemes, he wouldn't mind running it.
As Vaevictis Asmadi completes his thought, his stupid host got an ax stuck in his chest. The giant ax blade sunk deep about a halfway through the boy's body. Had he not pouring his power to keep the alive, both of them would be gone by now.
FUCK!
Damn it. He only takes his attention away from the situation for a mere moment. What kind of useless host is this? Does he need to do everything himself?
Fine then. It is about time to kill something. Staying bodyless inside this foolish boy's mindscape is about to get boring.
*WOOF*
What the fuck.
The dark mindscape of Jon suddenly become alight as another entity coalesces in the form of a colossal white wolf with grey eyes. A waterfall of saliva is gushing from its stinking mouth. Who knows where its tongue went?
Probably its own arse.
This is madness. Had any of his siblings or cousins know he had to share a space with a mutt, they would not let it go. How in the glory of the Ur-dragon does the mutt get here? He already asserts his supreme dominance over the host body and wipes away anything that could challenge him.
*BORK*BORK*
"Shut up, you stink cur!" Vaevictis roars. His burning claws come down striking nothing but void. The great wolf shockingly disappears to thin air and reappears again right in front of the elder dragon's face. It even has the gall to ponce him, but he reacts in time to save himself from more shame.
"YOU DARE!" Vaevictis screams as he pins the great wolf to the non-existence floor. His claws dig deep into its throat.
*ROAR* The dragon unleashes earthshattering roar of rage at the wolf's face.
*slurp* The wolf responses back by licking the dragon snout.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
"AWOOOOOOOOOO!" The wolf's resonating bark shakes Jon's mindscape as the two entities' power combine and surges through him. And the rest is history. A tale for another time perhaps.
…
Jon wakes up with a massive headache. No. This shouldn't be classified as a mere headache. His head feels like it is exploding, rebuilding itself up, then explodes again and again and again. Getting knock around the head by Aunt Narset's Channeled Force blast combines from uncle Vol's Banefire wasn't hurt as much.
To make things worse, his memory is hazy. He remembers something about tracking Garruk, successfully ambush him, then …. then ….. then ….
Oh …. Right. He spaced out during battle and paid for it dearly.
The pain in his chest surges as soon as he remembered.
"FUCK!" He screams and jumps straight up. "That's hurt." It hurt so bad. The burning rotting scar runs from his upper chest down to his stomach. That scar still not fully heal even though his bleeding had stopped.
Oh yes, it glows in an eerie bright green color. It doesn't take him a single brain cell to know that it is not normal. But then again, what he considered normal was forever lost to him from the day his spark ignited.
Lost in his own thought, Jon doesn't realize where he is. Neither did he realized that he doesn't wear any clothes. Only when a freezing wind blows down his nether region does he notice something is amiss.
He looks down again to see his terrible wound. It is still as bad as the first time he laid his eyes on. Then … his eyes travel further and are greeted with his own sizable member.
"SHIT!" Jon looks around the room he is in and finds that everything is carved out of marbled stone. There is only one place that he knows that has a room like this. Which means he is not on Innistrad anymore.
He is back at their place on Tarkir.
"What did I tell you about swearing, Jon!" his mother emerges from the shadow. She shakes her head as if she is disappointed. Her body is full of bruises that had turn black and purple.
Her. Entire. Body.
"WHY AM I NAKED? WAIT. WHY ARE YOU NAKED? …. You know what? don't tell me. I don't think I want to know."
Custom Card of the Week
Card Name: Blessing of the Wolf Spirit
Mana Cost: 2RG
Type: Enchantment - Aura
Card Text:
When Blessing of the Wolf Spirit enters the battlefield, put two +1/+1 counter on enchanted creature.
Enchanted creature has "Whenever this creature attacks, it gains double strike and trample"
When enchanted creature dies or put into exile from the battlefield, return that creature to the battlefield under your control.
Flavor Text: Arlinn Kord willingly surrender to the beast within, but the beast decide it couldn't exist without her.
Rarity: Rare
