Confrontation

There was a cool breeze that swept the empty culdesac. The crisp autumn air did not yield its tranquility, despite the emotions carried by its gracious inhabitants. Chills emanated down the youngest one's spine due to this, along with the horrid anticipation of what has yet to come.

The silence was deafening. Other than the sound of decayed leaves dancing in the subtle wind, not even a bird was willing to make its presence known to what was approaching. 

Lars was as scared as he was trusting in his brothers, and his legal guardian who oversaw their training. He would wonder about his current whereabouts, along with his daughter. Not even a goodbye, no warning, yet plenty of preparation for this scenario. Lars wouldn't have believed its necessity if not faced against incredible odds and uncertainty. Scared and confused were remarkable understatements for the youngest of the three's mental baseline. 

The middle one's mind was racing, though his outward appearance was by no means emulating his uncertainty. He appeared calm, ready for the storm that was approaching. The beast that had stripped an otherwise immortal people from their high and mighty thrones was approaching. They were the last of their kind, the end of an Era before it ever truly built itself up to be worth history's remark. Would their training be enough to escape their parents fate? Would they carry out their inevitable acts of defence with honor, the way that the others attempted to? Would it even matter?

Questions like these and many more raced behind the facade of unphased facial features, the crossed arms of defiance of the inevitable. He didn't care that Ugelsted and Emika were gone. It was probably for the best, for them and the rest of their people to flee from their housing.

No, it was for the best. An audience would only distract. Only maximize risk to the innocent. Perhaps they took them away to someplace safe, away from this final stand to avenge those who faced it before them. Hard to say, easy to assume. 

If anything, Soren felt more comfortable knowing that they could keep this on home turf, despite knowing that they were being hunted like dogs. There was an odd comfort in knowing that they would fight here, where they were raised. Despite his many uncertainties, knowing that he knew the terrain gave him a sense of confidence that offered a shallow barrier over his uneasy mind. 

Primus couldn't stop staring forward, up the stone road and toward the source of silence. Of the dark, thickening clouds forming overhead. No sounds, no noise of thunder that would naturally rumble otherwise. This storm they were meant to face was otherworldly, yet oddly familiar to them. A monster that the viking race undoubtedly brought upon themselves, to tip balance to their swift advancements and swift rise to power.

From being the role model for his younger brothers to emulate, to this very moment. The eldest brother felt a need to stand brave, to live up to his parent's expectations. Today, they would test the limits of this new generation of human evolution. His nerves were making his stomach churn. Fear was second nature, though he wouldn't make it obvious.

Fear of the unknown, of what their 'nature' would provide against this foe, would be put to the test. The three Chompas had endured much to prepare for this day, from sharpening their sparring skills to transmigrating. They had prepared as best they could to avenge their parents, and the countless lives lost in Scandinavia.

The evening quickly turned to night, the flashing lightning would illuminate the road but no thunder followed suit. The intensity of this unnatural phenomenon was gradually increasing. The strikes of electricity flashed to illuminate everything like a strobe light. 

Then, when time appeared slowed to a halt, there was an extra sensation that began to shake the brothers down to the marrow. Relentless, freezing panic began to settle into them. It washed down the full reality of the situation at hand from their head to their feet. They stood frozen, beads of sweat trickling down Primus's forehead. Soren could feel his heart pounding. Lars wanted to run, but discipline ordered otherwise.

Twitching nostrils, subtle snarling, their eyes desperately darted about to close in on the source of this madness. There was no clarity, no respite from this terrible psychological discomfort. Like needles, the shivers riddled them down to their cores, flushing over them until finally, another sense was picked up. 

The gradually increasing scent of fresh blood began to tingle in their nostrils. It almost made Lars choke up and vomit, only getting worse as it came near. So thick, they could practically taste it. Soren spit on the ground before him, but this alleviated nothing.

And then, when the whole situation appeared to get at its worst, slow, heavy footsteps echoed from the near distance. The lightning would now slowly tear at the sky, spreading and fading in their trail as it lit up the area prominently between each flash.

A vague silhouette of the bipedal beast could be seen just up the road in between the dark intervals. Its eyes were menacingly calm, piercing though the darkness like knives. Assurance of having the creature in sight didn't make the psychological effects any better, but it seemed as though they could finally thaw, finally move. Finally snap their uncertainty to something tangible.

Whether they wanted to or not.