>>5358139>>5358147>>5358158>>5358588>>5358853Courageously, you push through the leaves and enter the clearing, saluting the Huntlord with your weapon. "I'm going to fight you. You against me. Only us two."
<span class="mu-s">"WHAT?!"</span>
The whole of the hunting party breaks into chatter. Willow scrambles forward and drops her weapon, placing both of her hands on your shoulders. "Did gettin' tackled by that wereboar scramble yer brains, lady?! All them folks..." she trails off, staring at the collection of Ilythiiri ears that rest on the bloody altar. "Ye ain't thinkin' straight! Now come on, we gotta work together if-" you throw her hands off and step toward the Huntlord, bold words on the edge of your tongue.
The deep bellow of snarling laughter rumbles across the land, succeeded by the howls of a great many lupines, aborting your would-be monologue. An overwhelming wave of supernatural dread washes over you as you detect the presence of a ravenous being evaluating you as its next meal. Against your will, your body turns to bring it into your field of view.
Perched atop an outcropping with a full view of the clearing is a man-high felid beast, lithe and relaxed in its mannerisms in defiance of the foreboding stream of blood that seems to flow endlessly from its tousled black fur. Accompanying it are a hundred black-furred wolves, all at the peak of their health and eager to kill. You remember the illustration in Amaranth's book, but it was a pale facsimile of the truth. Malar, the Lord of Beasts, god of bloodlust and stealthy pursuit, has arrived in the flesh to spectate your duel with the Huntlord.
