On the frozen plane in front of Kirkenes dull eyed ghouls, terrified vampires, and confused, but excited shapeshifters gathered around a standoff. The shapeshifters seemed to be having trouble holding back from simply charging forward to start the killing, but they kept it together. Partly because their commanders held them back, but mostly because they were hesitant to get closer to the match between third-rankers.
In the middle, two parties faced off against each other.
On one side stood Sigurd, dual daggers in his hands, and a ghoulified Liv Frost, the dangerous edges of her ghoulish claws glimmering.
On the other stood Erik, hammer over slung over his shoulder, and Frostfang, long claws made of ice at the ready. Both of them in their transformed, wolfish forms.
"I'll take Liv," Erik informed Frostfang, not ready to brook any opposition. 'Can't risk Frostfang doing any serious harm to her,' he thought to himself.
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