Chapter 834 - Advent Ⅱ (1/2)

Without any cause for worry or care, Dolohov ignored the tense atmosphere. ”I have another errand to run for the Dark Lord, so I suggest that you hide your presence as planned. We shall reconvene soon,” he carelessly said as the spear slowly retreated and returned to his side. The spear wordlessly shrunk down, before he quickly pocketed the goblin forged spear.

With a sardonic smile, Dolohov in a feigned tone of concern says, ”You really should have the Shamaness take a closer look at that half-breed,” before laughing sinisterly and instantly apparating away with a loud pop.

Iwara hurried forward with concern but hides her worry lest it be perceived as a token of weakness from the giants, who followed them. Before Iwara can speak, Wurfbog snarls, ”Cut it off, Iwara.” .

Iwara opens her mouth to protest, but her protests are quelled by a single fierce glance from her mate. Vowing vengeance in her heart against the wizard, who hurt her mate, she reaches into the folds of her giant leather skirt to remove a sharp jagged blade. ”Hold still and do not move,” she briskly instructed her mate, before swinging the blade with all her might.

With a thud, the left hand of Wurfbog falls to the ground as blood begins to spurt from his wrist. Wurfbog was pale, but he did not whimper nor flinch at his mate's actions. Iwara hurries and chants a magic spell to stop the bleeding, before ripping a portion of her skirt to tie around the tender wound. The wound could be better treated upon their arrival to the destined haven.

With a tap of Iwara's stab of her staff against the ground, the removed hand burns instantly into ashes. Already weakened, Iwara staggers forward and leans on her staff for strength. She tiredly gasps but remains upright only because of her pride as the shamaness of the giants.

”No touching the human establishments,” Wurfbog barked, but no giant dared to disobey his order. They were tired and especially hungry, but far more afraid. Their Gurg had not even flinched despite the pain. There were even hints of regained admiration and awe for their Gurg.

”Come,” Wurfbog roared over his shoulder before the giants began to solemnly march not even straying away to consume the tasty flesh of humans despite their vast hunger.

All too soon the Giants vanished with the fierce winter tempest hiding any traces of their arrival. The only other indication was as they passed villages are the small tremors near the human dwellings. Many thought it was merely the fierce wind and fell fast asleep including those that were magical.

One of the human villages is a small village by the name of Hermite. Despite the fierce raging storm, a retired old sea dog stood watching from his window. A former sailor in the Navy, he'd proudly served his country during the second great world war. He'd survived the poisonous gas of the trenches, the vile submarines with their torpedoes, the burning pelts shooting planes, and even being shot twice! There was a bit of shrapnel left behind in his body from old battle wounds that swelled on humid-filled days like these.

Aye, he was old enough that now even his bones ached might fierce on stormy days. On nights like he was unable to sleep a wink without some of his younger sister's special stuff. But he didn't feel drowsy yet, so he'd be up for a good while.

The crabby old sea dog's cottage stood separate from the rest of the village of Hermite on a small hill. The villagers thought the old sea dog strange, but no one ever commented on it since the old sea-dog had been raised in the village and his grown children lived in the nearby town just over the next hills.