Well, whatever the Phantom Strike had expected when he’d run into the unplumbed streets of Odense, it wasn’t what he found.
Amid an increasing number of grossling attacks (and the League’s own suspicions of who had slipped them the mickeys and why), they had been ordered by rather peremptory voices over the radio to proceed immediately on a sortie to Odense, where rumor had it that the ruins of the University Hospital still held what research toward a cure that Y0 science had managed before that stronghold had fallen. Kastellet and Amalienborg were to fend for themselves for the time being.
It had taken them upwards of two weeks in their slow but steady (but SLOOOOOOOOOOOOOW) FELINOPEDE to reach the outskirts of Odense, and Lalli was on his very first foray into the heart of the town. He was actually on his way back, scouting an alternate approach route, when he found them.
A great mass of thousands upon thousands of roughly fist-sized balls of sparkly golden fur filled the street in front of Lalli, and they were all cooing, oddly enough. The cooing got louder and more enthusiastic when the creatures noticed Lalli, and the closest ones began rolling in his direction.
Well then. Lalli hadn’t lived so long by being curious to the point of foolishness. He retreated a block or so in a blink, but the strange creatures just kept following him. They repeated this dance a few more times, until--
The troll was both stealthy and fast, so it was on Lalli almost before he knew it. He was the Phantom Strike, though, and so the split second the troll gave him to react was more than enough. He circled around behind the troll and stabbed it through the brain thrice in the interval before it would have hit him. It had just enough time before it died to look bewildered.
What really intrigued Lalli, though, was how the small furry creatures reacted to the troll. The cooing immediately ceased, replaced by a high-pitched squeal so intense that Lalli suspected it was meant as a weapon. As they squealed, the creatures shook and writhed, as though in pain from the troll’s very presence.
This could be very interesting indeed...
*
Back at the FELINOPEDE, Emil was starting to get worried about Lalli, so Sigrun challenged him to a trial of marksmanship to get his mind off it. Just as she did, a few small grosslings decided to see what all the noise was about, providing the two contestants with live targets.
Now, the Red Terror was good at making precise stabs and slashes with her blades, but for distance kills, she usually threw something large and heavy enough that precision of aim was less important. The Firework was similarly precise in close-in work and less so for distance. Thus, the match was more or less balanced, though Emil’s preoccupation over Lalli’s safety interfered with his aim enough in the early rounds for Sigrun to complain that he “wasn’t even trying”.
Emil was the first to hear the weird, high-pitched squeals from the direction Lalli had gone, but soon, even Sigrun could no longer deny that there was some kind of really weird noise coming from the city... and getting closer to them by the moment.
Lalli appeared around a far corner, moving quite slowly, for him; the reason became apparent, if rather unbelievable, as soon as the little balls of fur poured around the corner after him. Emil eventually recovered enough to look over at Sigrun, and marveled anew: it was the first time he’d ever seen her utterly dumbfounded.
It was then that the furballs became aware of Emil.
*
It was a most peculiar predicament that faced them, and especially Mikkel, as he was manning the radio. Given his known penchant for practical jokes, who on Earth would believe him when he reported that the expedition had been halted by a pack of living hairballs that seemed determined to lovingly smother the Phantom Strike and the Firework (who was far too kind to try to burn them off and keep them away with his flames)?
Certainly, such a conundrum was unheard of in the annals of the Known World...
