"There are two coming our way," Jason calls whilst readying the blade; then registers the bone-steed's total stilness. Well, dammit.
"Cha! Over here, yes, I smell of warm meat, come here you overgrown dogs," Jason calls with a shrill whistle between his teeth. The canine ears perk; the wolves pad across the snow like gray blurs (behind them on the snow a carnage of very strange combat indeed, between the rest of this bit of the pack, and their very bones).
Jason really wishes he had a spear, or even a longsword rather than this ridiculous jewel-studded thing, but needs must...
He side-steps the first lunge of cruel teeth and jaws, and jams the sword up into the gray heaving ribs. It sinks in, dotting the rock and snow beneath with crimson blood.
He's fought wolves before; normal wolves may be cowed, but these creatures with their eyes crackling with blue ice and frost ghosting from their muzzles are another thing entirely. He's fought demonic hounds too, but usually... well, usually, he lets Etrigan handle that.
The momentum of the wolf's lunge drags the sword free of his grip even as the wolf stumbles past him with the blade buried deep in its side. Weaponless, he has the second wolf to deal with, and Jason Blood, for all his experience, is still only a man.
The shaggy beast bears him down to the rock and the snow with bruising impact. He's fought wolves before, yes, in forests on three continents-- he shoves his forearm up and into the massive jaws before they can rip his throat out like so much tissue paper.
Even through the layers and layers of cloth he feels the long teeth pierce his flesh. The wolf is far stronger. Jason grits his teeth and takes the pain, which is hot as nothing else is currently hot, and focuses, summoning energy to his will, heat to his will. Heat and life, like that currently soaking into the inner layers of his sleeve and further goading the wolf's hunger.
Life is in the blood, and blood is a catalyst for so much of his magic-- winds it red way through his castings, binds and summons, calls and wards---
His free hand fumbles on the snow, for the patch of snow marked crimson by the first wolf's blood. His gloved fingers grab up a desperate handful of it and jam it into the wolf's azure eyes.
"τυφλός! κουφός! ἐκφεύγω!" he shouts, words cracking like whips in the frozen air, even as the wolf's claws start rending holes in his layers of warm, life-sustaining clothing.
The beast snarls as its five senses are abruptly stripped from it, releasing his arm to stumble backwards in the snow.
"If you are done over there," Jason calls to his odd, odd ally, "some assistance here would not be rejected--"
Unsure of whether the bone-things can even hear him or not right now, he scrambles painfully to his feet, preparing for a next attack if he must, hissing words beneath his breath.
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"Cha! Over here, yes, I smell of warm meat, come here you overgrown dogs," Jason calls with a shrill whistle between his teeth. The canine ears perk; the wolves pad across the snow like gray blurs (behind them on the snow a carnage of very strange combat indeed, between the rest of this bit of the pack, and their very bones).
Jason really wishes he had a spear, or even a longsword rather than this ridiculous jewel-studded thing, but needs must...
He side-steps the first lunge of cruel teeth and jaws, and jams the sword up into the gray heaving ribs. It sinks in, dotting the rock and snow beneath with crimson blood.
He's fought wolves before; normal wolves may be cowed, but these creatures with their eyes crackling with blue ice and frost ghosting from their muzzles are another thing entirely. He's fought demonic hounds too, but usually... well, usually, he lets Etrigan handle that.
The momentum of the wolf's lunge drags the sword free of his grip even as the wolf stumbles past him with the blade buried deep in its side. Weaponless, he has the second wolf to deal with, and Jason Blood, for all his experience, is still only a man.
The shaggy beast bears him down to the rock and the snow with bruising impact. He's fought wolves before, yes, in forests on three continents-- he shoves his forearm up and into the massive jaws before they can rip his throat out like so much tissue paper.
Even through the layers and layers of cloth he feels the long teeth pierce his flesh. The wolf is far stronger. Jason grits his teeth and takes the pain, which is hot as nothing else is currently hot, and focuses, summoning energy to his will, heat to his will. Heat and life, like that currently soaking into the inner layers of his sleeve and further goading the wolf's hunger.
Life is in the blood, and blood is a catalyst for so much of his magic-- winds it red way through his castings, binds and summons, calls and wards---
His free hand fumbles on the snow, for the patch of snow marked crimson by the first wolf's blood. His gloved fingers grab up a desperate handful of it and jam it into the wolf's azure eyes.
"τυφλός! κουφός! ἐκφεύγω!" he shouts, words cracking like whips in the frozen air, even as the wolf's claws start rending holes in his layers of warm, life-sustaining clothing.
The beast snarls as its five senses are abruptly stripped from it, releasing his arm to stumble backwards in the snow.
"If you are done over there," Jason calls to his odd, odd ally, "some assistance here would not be rejected--"
Unsure of whether the bone-things can even hear him or not right now, he scrambles painfully to his feet, preparing for a next attack if he must, hissing words beneath his breath.