"Whoosh!"
The sharp Scythe of Elune slashed down at Lairal's head, but he neither dodged nor ducked Velinde's surprise attack. Only when the scythe was about to cut into his neck did he reach out, catching its sharp blade precisely in his left claw.
The blade that could slice through iron like mud failed to damage even an inch of Lairal's skin. It was not that it lacked sharpness, but that some sort of rule was preventing the Scythe of Elune from harming the Head Wolf before it.
"I told you long ago, little girl. The Scythe of Elune is useless against me... because I'm its master too!"
"Whoosh!"
Velinde was flung away, scythe and all, but her outrageously agile body spun lightly in midair before landing nimbly on the ground. Her small nose twitched, and she casually tossed aside the scythe in her hand. Glowing with green light and starlight, it planted itself precisely in the center of the battlefield like a banner.
Little Wolfwoman flexed her claws, tiny silver sparks dancing where they touched. She rarely used them in battle, but in truth, these ten claws, like silver daggers, were scarcely inferior to the Scythe of Elune in sharpness. And because she was Dick's follower, Velinde could also use a little of his power, such as wrapping faint silver order fire around her claws. Its power naturally fell short of the original, but honestly, this level suited Velinde better.
"Come on. Unleash your fury. Let's settle this the worgen way!"
Lairal's blood-red robe stirred without wind, bloody mist coiling around the edges of his body. Clearly, as the Scythe of Elune's first master and the first worgen in Azeroth's history, he had special powers of his own. He crossed his claws before his chest, and his perpetually narrowed