Does the viking king realize that expanding down here is perhaps not his finest idea? Yes. Does he think that it's perhaps his finest idea? Also yes. Víðarr knows that the mountain is cold and harsh, he knows that there are several among their numbers who would do better tucked away. Though he loves the mountain and the life it affords them, there's also something brilliant about being able to disappear from it all. If they take the Crypt, then they really have it all. They would be well-fortified, and more than that... they'd have the space they needed to finally hear the pitter patter of the littlest viking paws.

No more putting the cart before the horse. Víðarr had scoped out the area, he knew what was down here. Coyotes, an untold number of them, that had moved into the Crypt after its last residents had vacated. He'd taken a few brave volunteers down to clear them out, sweep them from the depths and the darkness. With a keen eye, the shadow peered into the darkness. Reflective light shone off several sets of eyes, from which he took a step back to look towards his crew of volunteers. "We give them hell." With a pleasant smile over his shoulder, Víðarr led the charge on the coyotes. This would be fun.

"Víðarr"

Bylgja shook with delight.

Simply put, she couldn't wait to get her axe into some coyotes. She strode into the crypt with her head high, tail wagging, and a pleasant smile on her face that didn't seem to quite gel with what they were about to do.

There--!

Bylgja didn't speak. Instead, she let out a war-yelp and grabbed her axe, bearing down upon one of the coyotes that had the misfortune of being closer to the pack than the rest. She twisted her body to swing the axe and was met with the satisfying heft of the blade slamming into the neck of the coyote, jarring to a stop against the spine and leaving the head half-removed.

Brave may not have been the best word to describe Delphi. She was young, a bit reckless, and all bad luck. That didn't mean she wouldn't try. Anything to help the old man. Plus, she got to spend more time with him and the others. The girl was especially taking a liking to the new woman, Bylgja. Who Delphi couldn't help but grin at from time to time as they ventured deeper into the crypt.

Sticking close to Vidarr's heels, Delphi's own small stature slid through the slick halls. Avoiding cobwebs and feeling the anticipation boil her blood, Delphi grew excited. At least they were getting close. The pungent scent of coyotes burned the inside of her nostrils. Their yelps and screeching calls echoed throughout the halls. Pausing, she stares up at Vidarr as he unleashes them. A grin spreads across her lips before she bursts forward and follows Bylgja's lead.

Leaping onto the closest coyote, Delphi sinks her cat claw gloves into their skin and pulls downward. It's as if she is slicing paper. Blood splattered back onto her face as she shoves her open jaw forward and sinks her saber fangs into the coyote's throat. Clamping down, she shakes until the coyote begins to stumble and fall to the gorund.

A small war party was being led to the crypt beneath the mountains, and Brida was eager and excited to sink her teeth and claws into the lesser creatures that occupied it. She followed the small group, taking up the rear as the battle party made their way to the crypt. When they got there, she could see why Vidarr had this place in mind for the pack. It would do well to serve as a defense. The Vikings would know this place inside and out if they didn't already. They'd be well-defended if they holed up in here during attacks. As the warriors entered the Crypt, they were promptly greeted by the mangy coyotes that dwelled in there. Immediately, the others had split for the attack, and Brida would follow suit. With a thunderous roar of her own, the Viking warrior charged toward a couple of coyotes that threatened to come up behind the youngest of the party, barreling her broad chest into the smaller of the two and swiping with deadly claws at the other. Both went to the ground, with the larger one getting back up and turning toward her. "Come on!" She cried out as the two barreled toward each other. She lunged, teeth flashing as she gripped the side of the coyote's neck, sabers sinking deep as it gurgled and cried out in pain. It flailed, claws scratching at her cheek before she tossed it and released it before turning on the next one. "Brida"

Víðarr would not admit it, but Delphi's presence in the party worried him. The coyotes... some of them were bigger than she was. Some of them would likely be bigger than she would... ever reach. It was enough to make him worry, and enough to put him on even higher alert. If the child wanted to help, then he wouldn't get in her way. Still, it was his duty to make sure she saw adulthood, and it seemed like that was more and more a daily challenge. Still, there was no time to dwell on it. Víðarr led the charge on the pack of coyotes, his head tossing, teeth glimmering and stark in the low light.

Brida's shout brought a brilliant grin to the viking king's face as well. He struck out with his gauntlets, making to shred whatever he could reach with the raised studs. The rending of flesh and yelps of the coyotes hung heavily in the air around him, along with the scent of blood creeping on. By the gods, this is what they were meant to do. The rage and heat of a fight, it fills Víðarr with something he can't explain. Delight, glee. The taste of coyote blood on his tongue as he sinks his teeth into the creature's neck, it feels brilliant. A deep, menacing chuckle echoed from his chest. Everything felt good. They would make quick work of the coyotes, and be able to move themselves in, in no time.

"Víðarr"

The warrior-healer throws her head back and laughs in brutal delight as she wrenches the axe from the neck of the coyote she'd struck first. She pulls the axe free and spins it, letting gore spatter across her company; they were, of course, warriors all, and so she spared no expense in putting on a grit-toothed show. Her tail raised, Bylgja charged dead-on at another coyote. Delphi was here, but that was the king's blood, and he could protect her-- if she got in trouble, of course, Bylgja could help. Would. She had already done so once. As Bylgja brought her axe down again -- this time, splitting the skull of a coyote-- another of the creatures charged at her side. It caught fur in its teeth and Bylgja whooped in delight, jerking the axe from the coyote's split-brain head to charge sidewise, slamming her aggressor against the wall of the crypt. She heard the crunch of bone, but the creature was not yet dead; it instead struggled, gurgled, and bit her again. Bylgja twisted, to throw the coyote back towards her packmates, with a blood-toothed laugh. She felt delight in her blood. In her bones. "Bylgja"

In a dying attempt to relinquish her from its body, the coyote whipped around with teeth gnashing in her face. Releasing her grasp at the last second, Delphi barely avoided the strike as the coyote staggered to the ground. All around her, blood spilled and flew across the hallways. Her white coat is stained a splattered pink as the blood continues to fall. She unleashes a battle cry of her own that is all puppy-like triumphant.

Unwilling to back down and find every ounce of energy to prove herself, Delphi ran for the next coyote she could find. Sliding between legs and using the dead bodies to her advantage, Delphi leaps up onto one before pushing off and onto the mangy coyote. Its snarls rip through the air as she latches on to its neck. Digging her teeth in, she feels it whip and twist until a paw comes up and smacks her in the side. Though she winces, she doesn't let go. No way she was going to come out of this only taking down one damn coyote.

Bodies were dropping like flies as the Viking troupe took out the coyotes that had been inhabiting the crypt. She had managed to take down two so far, and all around her, she could hear screaming of both fear and triumph. She quickly glanced around, grinning when she spotted the wild woman Bylgja cutting them down with an interesting weapon choice. Maybe that axe of hers was better than teeth...she made a mental note to ask her about it later, but for now, she had coyotes to attend to. One coyote snuck around and got a hold of her hind leg while she had been briefly distracted. She snarled, twisting around and yanking her leg from the coyote's mouth before she swiped at it with a heavy paw. She smacked the top of the coyote's head, driving its face into the hard ground before she jumped on it, teeth seeking the back of its neck where she grabbed onto it and viciously shook it until she heard and felt the neck snap. Tossing it aside, she went after another, and another, barrelling through them like bowling pins, a series of snarls and gnashing teeth and slashing claws as she took them out one by one. "Brida"

The coyotes began to stack up around the, dropping like flies. Víðarr is perhaps, hyper-aware of the fact that his granddaughter is down there with them. Delphi was in a tough position against the beast, but he trusts her. He trusts she can hold her own. As his eyes adjust to the low light, he begins to pick out the vermin more easily. There was one sizing up the child from somewhere off, behind. Before it could complete whatever plot it was working up, the viking king reaches out and grabs the thing.

An unhinged little chuckle wrenches free from his throat as he fights the creature. This one was feisty, kicking and struggling as the shadow holds him firmly. Not going down without a fight, at least he could respect that. Fight he did, wrenching and wriggling. Víðarr felt the creature's mouth close around his ankle, flinching from the sting of teeth in his flesh. He growled, reaching down and making quick work of the creature. Gaze focusing once more on Delphi's target, making sure the child was faring alright. She could do this, even if she needed a little help.

"Víðarr"

As she rides atop the coyote quite like a rider on a bucking bronco, she hears Vidarr drag a second coyote away from her. Thankful that she has backup, she returns her focus to the writhing coyote beneath it. It continues to whip its head back and forth, teeth snapping and clacking as it tries to get ahold of her. Unfortunately for the coyote, she is small enough that she can't be reached.

Holding on for dear life, Delphi wraps her legs around the coyote's neck for better purchase. Then as she pulls her head back, she opens up her jaws. Lashing forward, she clamps down on the back of the coyote's head right behind its skull. Sinking her saber fangs into the coyote's thin neck and skin, she digs in. One dying yelp leaves the coyote before it crumples to the ground. Quick, easy, and efficient. She is learning that going for the sweet spots is better than an exhausting drawn out fight. Using her size to her advantage has been proving useful.

Stepping away from the coyote as one more runs toward her, she instead runs toward the others. Drawing the coyote toward the larger wolves so that they can help quickly take it out so she doesn't have to tussle with it by herself.

She released a battle cry of triumph as one by one, the coyotes fall around them. A pile of bodies growing bigger with each one felled, and she was pretty sure the entire clan that lived here would be wiped out soon enough at this rate. She lunged at another, thin looking coyote full of scars and patches of missing fur. It looked like it could have been a seasoned fighter back in its prime, but now it was about to meet its end. The coyote looked at her with a mixture of weariness, and the light of one last battle in its gaze. She hesitates for a moment as she stares this creature in the eyes for what felt like an eternity. And then, a simple nod of understanding. He was ready. The pair rush at each other, the thin coyote snapping its teeth at her, grazing the side of her neck. But she is quicker. Heavier. Younger. Stronger. She knew she could easily overpower him. And he knew it too. Still, if he wanted to go out a warrior, she would give that to him. Although she didn't particularly like coyotes, she supposed not all of them were mangy, dishonorable curs. This one seemed to have some honor in his life. Turning her head toward his neck as he turned toward hers once more, she quickly lunged and sunk her teeth into his throat. She made it quick with as little suffering as possible. Mercy. Her opponent gasped once for breath, tensing for a moment before he fell limp. The light had quickly left his eyes, and she gently let him down onto the ground. "Rest, Drengr. May Valhalla welcome you." She whispered under her breath. "Brida"

The boy couldn't be contained. When he heard his dad was going down to the crypt he'd immediately scurried off to get out of his Aunt's line of sight. She wouldn't be ok with this but c'mon, they had fought a lion together when it tried to eat the spotty guy, how dangerous could it be? It wasn't like it was their first time going down there either.

The sound of battle echoed ahead, bouncing off the narrow passageways. A canine scent, foreign and strange from those he knew filled his senses, tinted with iron, stained with blood. It made his heart race with excitement. Now this was what he was talking about! Teeth aimed to clamp down on a pale limb to immobilise, maybe someone else would jump in and give him a hand, it wasn't like there was a lot to him yet, other than dead weight and needle teeth.

“Speech”

Róta gnashed her teeth at the scuttling paws that ran away from her. Stupid fool child had a death wish. First a lion, and now this? She would be having words with his father if the idiot boy fucking survived. Her breath was coming in heavy snorts by the time she reached the crypt, sides heaving, blood pounding through her veins, even before the chorus of battle washed over her. Ah fuck. They were here now, may as well have a little fun, no?

She spotted her nephew hanging off a coyote leg and moved in with practiced ease to bite the other canine behind the ears, jerking her head savagely until a satisfying crack left the body limp in her jaws. She dropped the boy in front of Steig. "We're not here for chew toys, who are we taking down next?"

"speech"

The large body that charged in after him could only be one wolf and he quickly relinquished his hold and got out the way when his Aunt latched on and jerked her heavy head. His heart was racing, whether it was adrenalin or fear of being caught wasn't entirely clear to the boy until her words registered in his ears. His tail beat staccato at his heels, peering between battling bodies before falling on a straggler, one that was backing up and trying to find a way out of the Crypt. Good, they should get out, but not unscathed.

Using his temporarily smaller size to dart between the other fights going on around them, the boy launched open mouthed at his new opponent, aiming to clamp down on the thigh of the creature and actually get his tongue bloody this time.

“Speech”

Thankfully she didn't have to repeat herself, the boy found his target and she followed at a slower pace, having to take the long way around. The scent in the air told her this one wasn't alone, but it seemed whoever he was holding back and covering for was beating a path to retreat.

Blood was pouring down the inside of the coyotes leg and he spun on the younger wolf, ears flattened and teeth bared. Rota struck fast, teeth closing around the coyotes throat and squeezing to restrict breathing, crush the windpipe. It wasn't as immediate as her previous kill, but it would give the boy a chance to gnaw around and feel out where the deepest veins were to bleed an opponent out.

"speech"

The coyote struggled, flailed its leg about while his Aunt slowly robbed the creature of air. He could feel around in the limb with his teeth, where the squishy parts were that bought forth a flood of blood into his mouth, dripping down his jaws. It was a euphoric feeling for the youngster, one he could readily get used to, until finally the blood stopped coming, and the body hung limp. It was a fresh breath of air from outside that told him they had missed some.

Setting off down the passageway with his nose to the wind, thrill of the hunt coursing through his veins the boy was single minded. Drive them off. Remind them why they shouldn't ever come back.

“Speech”

The kid had decent instincts, and she found herself less and less annoyed as he instinctively picked up what he needed to to help rather than hinder the task at hand. When life finally fled the last opponent, she dropped her hold and waited to see what the boy would do. He picked up on the scent and charged ahead blindly, but Rota was there to shadow him, teeth clicking a chorus at the heels of their retreating enemies, a rumbling growl sending the message home clearly. This was not their home or shelter. For their kind, this place would be a nothing but a tomb, and they'd best not forget it any time soon.

"speech"