Werewolf the Podcast Episode 153: Samarat Arrives | The Werewolf, the Professor and the Blood God

Episode 153 of Werewolf the Podcast continues the House Four battle as Will, Fen and Professor Simon de Montfort push deeper into the war against Samarat’s vampire forces. Exhausted, injured and trapped in a battered transit van after hours of supernatural combat, the team faces a new level of terror when Lucifer appears with an offer of help — and gifts the Professor a stunning suit of infernal black armour.

At House Four, the fighting escalates fast. Will and the Professor cut through more attackers, face two giant supernatural guardians, and begin to think the house is clear. Then everything changes. The sky turns, power erupts, and Samarat finally arrives — with her son.

This episode blends werewolf horror, vampire action, dark fantasy, supernatural warfare, black comedy and apocalyptic escalation. If you enjoy serial horror podcasts, monster fiction, immortal knights, werewolf battles and high-stakes fantasy audio drama, this is one of the biggest turning-point episodes in the series.

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Transcript

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This is Werewolf the Podcast , a serial killer drama.

How old the hell are you doing ?

How old are hell?

It's like, how ago it's getting.

It's kind of like werewolf related.

Anyway, in the description below, there's loads of information about where you can go.

And you can talk to other lunatics out there on the Facebook group and in Instagram and in Twitter and it called Twatter now or is it called X?

I'm not sure.

So go along and have a look at some of those.

There's books to buy down there.

If you want to spend loads of cash, you can support the show.

To all those that are supporting the show, you're wonderful.

I love you very much in deeply and all that kind of stuff.

And if you ask me nicely, I might be willing to do anything for sorry.

Anyway, we're going to get back on with the episode.

It's episode 153 and we're on part 20.

Let me just check.

Eight.

Woo!

The professor and Will and Fen are at house. For.

I don't know why I did it like that at the end but it.

Sorry, I'm still recording.

Bye.

I'm sitting there in the back of the Ford transit van with the professor.

We're going, like, old school 80s here before, like, any of that health and safety nonsense.

There are no seats and the van is, well, this van has seen better days since being used as a four wheeled ramming weapon against a giant vampire lion thing.

And then being put back on its wonky wheels by a giant werewolf, that giant werewolf being me.

Yeah, something like that.

We sit on the opposite sides of the cargo area on a wheel arch, not the comfiest, but we'd been fighting a bloody battle for the last few hours, so my ass was one of the least painful things I had to deal with at a moment.

I was currently watching 3 feet fingers grow back on my right hand, which was, well, a little more sorer and quite interested in my ass on a whale arch.

I heal pretty quickly.

Thank the .

I don't know whoever does that for me.

It's probably some, I don't know, ancient magical bollocks.

The floor of the vanished is covered in a constantly moving sea, sort of tide of steel cast off flotsam.

It's mostly the night's kit that has been used, abused, and sort of through damaged casteride.

Yeah, you heard that right, too.

Knight's kit.

A genuine 13th century mortal knight called Simon, who is also a professor and and a real killer in the world of weakness.

And what do I mean by a real killer?

I mean that he enjoyed it.

He enjoyed killing, and he he was incredibly good at it too.

I'd seen him in action a few times now and he was he was the bomb fam . Or something like that.

I hope that's not appropriation.

The tranny was making noises of distress as she was being hurled around at speed.

Oh, shit, sorry.

I nearly went into some sort of inappropriately, sort of wordy, erotic fiction.

I keep forgetting, I mean, my thought is, allthough we used to get in the back of trannies a lot in the pastor's kids, it's probably no longer appropriate to talk about transit vans like that. No longer can trannies.

You might get a reputation on this podcast or something.

The tranny, I mean fucking sorry, the transit van was making a few weird noises, having been used, as already mentioned, as a vehicular, vehicular weapon to kill a giant vampire lord.

If you've not listened to the previous episodes, this is part 28 or 29 in this particular story, so there's a lot that has brought us up to this spot.

I don't think at this point, the van would pass the safety standards of the UK if it were to be driven on our roads.

Although.

We We all know that person who would let it slide, don't we?

Dodgy dive at certain death motors and MOTs.

Just slipers a ten, mate.

The company's motto.

As we corner the contents of the van slide once more around and bang against our ankles and toes, it's annoying, but we mostly ignore it.

I watched the man now as he sits with his head in his hands.

His eyes are closed and his exhaustion is more than apparent in the way he holds himself.

He's literally supporting his head by creating a shelf with his hands and resting his elbows on his knees.

He is what we would say in Manchester has fucking knackered.

In fact, I have tomit we both are.

The giant wolf's soul fen lies on the ground, his body extended from the front to the back of of the space we occupy.

The professor's items slides through him as we turn corners and make our way through the night to the house number four.

The easiest explanation for stuff sliding through him is first for those that, you know, for those that don't know what my posit Fen is just yet is that he's, I don't know, ghostlike.

Just think of it along those lines.

It can't be asked explaining something of explaining 151 times before.

He's just fucking ghost like.

Something then catches my eye.

I sent something that wasn't there before.

Of course.

Of course!

Of course it's her.

She's dressed in British Army fatigues and sits on Simon's lunch hamper that holds the night's goodies.

For some reason, she's che cheering gum and when she noticed me, she sort of noticed her, she blows a giant pink bubble, which pups killing the heavy atmosphere that pervades the van.

It is Lucy, Lucy fur, and she is, well, she's terrifyingly beautiful.

She has long dark hair and dark eyes and a body, which is the perfect proportions for my dream woman .

That was before I realised what my dream woman was, what I wanted was not a dream, but a reality, and she was out there somewhere.

Sally was.

Well, Sally was imperfect, but far more beautiful because of it.

She stared at me, Luc for that years.

She just sat there and stared at me, and a serene smile playing across her lips.

She was having a wonderful time.

She was a voyeur watching us trudge through the nonsense we were stuck in.

Her presence, her presence made me fucking angry.

I looked into those languid eyes and she smiled again.

She knew it.

I dropped my eyes from hers.

Her eyes, which which showed her hunger.

I didn't feel like to tell her how much I disliked right now.

She knew, and she liked it.

Maybe the hate I held for her in my heart fed her in some sort of way.

Stealing a glance at her once more, she nodded at my mental thoughts.

She was reading my fucking mind.

I tried to raise my voice to admonish her for being.

For, uh, and she just held her finger to her lips, the teacher's sighing language from nursery school to be quietiet.

I couldn't fucking speak.

The Professor.

I need some time to get back to the real world.

Although, what is the real world?

Well, we each create what we take to be the real world in our heads and put ourselves at the centre of it.

The primary player in our life in which you're a no one.

Oh, don't get me wrong.

I'm also a no one.

I just realise that I'm a no one.

And although I've been a no one for much longer, it hasn't helped me find who I am..

Forget the philosophy for now, Simon.

It's probably not the time to come up with groundbreaking ideas based around the world of existentialism, which is an area of philosophy I personally hate.

It's just too easy to argue for and against it.

In my humble opinion, humans are just not important enough to find the answer to life.

Why we're here can be easily explained by the fact that you're a simple chemical reaction, a method for energy to pass through a system. , what am I doing?

Is there anything spiritual left in the hamper to kill these philosophical thoughts of mine?

I need spiritual fortitude, all right, but in the form of a rough alcohol in bee libation, ideally.

My neck didn't want to respond as I thoughtought to raise my head, to check where the basket of spiritual promise was.

The nectus refused to help.

I used my right hand to lift my chin, then rolled my head around my neck a few times before rubbing my eyes and sitting and waiting for them to re establish focus .

It took a while, and then there it was, there it was that goddamned smile smile.

I smirked as my eyes fell to the floor, which turned into a slightly unhinged laugh as I refocused on on her, feeling genuine humour at what, sorry, who I had seen, I turned my gaze now to Will, who was sitting opposite me.

He simply shrugged his indifference and wished shared a moment of a smile.

Then we both turned to look at the woman sitting on my hamper.

Hello!

I saluted her in a world weary way.

Welcome to the Vendu Voyage.

I am your captain for this journey.

We are currently flying at a height of two and a half feet and cruising and cursing it.

Well, I would estimate 35 miles an hour.

The emergency exits are at the rear of the transit van.

I pointed at the doors that had been tied together with a bit of old rope after the crash had reshaped the vehicle.

You will note that there are no seat belt signs because there are no seat belts or indeed seats.

So just do what you want.

In the event of a crash, well, whatever.

I mean, you can't die, can you?

Worst luck.

What had started in my mind is as a witty monologue fell at the first hurdle.

Neither Will nor Lucy seemed amused, which actually amused me massively, as the awkwardness of the situation sank in.

I was so tired that my ability to care had just fallen from me.

I must have seemed unhinged as I continued and giggled in a slightly bizarre manner.

This was utter madness.

What had I thought I was doing?

Of course she would be here. Course she would.

She was here to make things much more difficult.

It was her job.

I mean, after all, I'd refused a job working for her in the past.

I'd refuse to help her in the past.

I'd refused her seductions in the past .

And with so many snubs to her offers, I mean, I must expect that she would be trying to exact some form of revenge at some point.

Why not now, when I needed it the least I had to build up the internal fortitude inside to be able to start a conversation.

But, of course, I managed it.

Lucifer, I looked at the woman.

It's so good to see you, I said, whilst portraying a genuine warmth in her presence.

What on earth are you doing here, old girl?

On Earth?, as it were.

I smirked at my accidental repetition of the word Earth, and I tried to make it sound like I'd meant it.

And why here, and why?

Now?

It seems an incredibly unlikely moment for a coincidental meeting, doesn't it?

I took a hand to each side of my head and pushed my ears forward towards her.

I'm all ears, I said, wearily finding myself utterly hilarious.

I'm a little concerned, he said.

Will and I met I?

She couldn't be as concerned as we were, although the energy required to be concerned was faltering into not giving a toss inization, which is no word that should ever be uttered again.

But it fit the moment very appropriately, and I stand by it at this juncture.

"E, that's very kind of ye," said Fenn.

Will, Lucy, and I all looked at the prone wolf at the back of the van.

His huge, ghostlike body took up almost the entire space.

Fen never really gets involved in conversations directly, so hearing him directly communicate with another was a twist that I hadn't seen coming .

He usually sits on the outside of what's going on and offers exceptional advice when he thinks it's appropriate.

He must have decided that he had to speak for Will on this occasion.

He was dedicated to the man, so his protective mindset made sense. Was an incredibly powerful and poignant moment for me to witness.

I could see that Lucy was a bit nonplused about this interaction with the wolf.

She hadn't seen it coming either, and it threw her from a game for a moment as she considered the spirit's eyes of fire.

Fen was not a human soul.

Was Lucy used to dealing with something so utterly other?

The space between the soul and the devil seemed to build a charge as the shared stare intensified.

The soul emitted a power that I now realise he hid incredibly well, most of the time.

He was so intense, so powerful.

So what would you say would be outcomely uh... The concern that you you feel for us then, eh?

Fenn asked Lucy.

Will and I felt like we were a very small crowd at a tennis match.

Our heads went from the devil to the soul as the ball of difficult and tense conversation started to be played between them over the court of the fan's interior.

Lucifer rallied.

She directed her next comment at me.

Do you need some help?

She asked.

I smiled and looked at the wolf soul.

He'd just scored, and the match was 15 loved as the conversation ball had flown out of the court and into my direction.

Fenn quickly reserved the ball into play.

"N, nor Lucy, speak to me.

Speak to me, Lucy," he told her.

"Because I'm not part of your religious myth, sir.

I cannot be so easily, let's say, manipulated.

I'm from a time when you and yours are, well, no power, and you've none over me.

So it puts it, let's just say, on more of an equal footing.

Will and I looked at each other briefly.

It reminded me of a very long time ago when I was young and my parents were arguing.

I felt genuinely powerless.

Will and I turned to watch this ball fly across the court, the power offence statement giving it a wicked pace off the racket.

She tried to speak, but nothing came.

The devil was lost for words.

Can you imagine?

Wow, the serf was an ace, and the game was at 30, love.

The wolf spoke again.

So Lucy, I'll make same request.

Why is the ear, eh?

Why is the ear?

He asked.

I'm here to help, She replied.

Help who?

The wolf flashed back.

You.

She smashed her return, looking at each of us briefly.

This was the beginning of an intense rally now.

The power in each stroke was intensifying.

An el Pa flew back from the wolf.

However, I can..

She managed to spin back.

The wolf was caught out by this and had to stop to think.

The score was square as he considered her.

And why?

Let the wolf fly.

Because..

She replied.

We're gonna need a little bit more than that, Lucy .

He told her.

Sammy has to go.

She and her son have to go.

It won't just be the end of humanity as we know it, but belief in me will falter as faith is lost or shifted.

So Sammy needs to go.

Don't worry, it is all self oriented.

There is no altruistic reasoning for this..

I like being a powerful, godlike figure and intend to stay as one. .

Not an answer from the wolf, but a consideration of what she said.

The match was over.

Lucy hadn't convinced the wolf, but I could see he was willing to hear the offer.

He hadn't been beaten, but he had conceded and went back to his quiet quiet, normal self lying in the back of the van, having done his job for will.

As one of the two audience members present, I wished to give the soul a standing ovation at a game bloody well played , but my knees were weak and my arms were heavy, although I did not have vomit on my sweater already because it was covered in blood rather than mum's spaghetti.

So I did not stand, although I gave a weak attempt at applause.

It seemed a polite thing to do.

Having seen this play out, I realised I had to rethink my my idea of the posit.

A posit is what the tribe called the wolf souls.

I had to give them a lot more respect than I had previously.

He had made Lucifer falter.

Hmm.

That was power.

She spoke to me now.

I know you will not willingly accept my help.

I understand the divine plan that it's in play for you, so don't worry.

I'm not going to offer you anything.

You will, on the other hand , I can help without offending Simon's boss.

She kept her eyes on mine. But pointed at the ceiling.

I don't really care, said Will.

How are you gonna help?

I mean, demon soldiers, Hellfire , kittens of fucking doom.

No, she said, as she motioned at me.

Will, a thick black mist, like condensed around the man opposers me.

Jesus, he stood up and he was flailing a little.

I initially panicked as I thought that she was like, trying to kill him somehow.

The man stood and was swathed in in plates, a black burnished suit of iron or steel or hell iron steel or whatever the hellish metal that was coat in his body.

He wore a black gambon, black chain mail, and a black plate with a black helmet.

That was a theme.

His helmet was shaped like a snarling wolf and and it slowly coalesced around his head.

It's right cool to watch.

Over it all, he wore a red circoat with a white panther on the front, I knew that was the professor's colours and seagull.

He just hadn't turned into a Marvel superhero.

After the professor's initial understandably dung panic, he seemed to calm down and shook him himself while looking over the kit he was wearing.

He pointed at the helm and then ran his gaunted hands over it, touching it until he found something like a catch that allowed him to open the helm at the nose.

A smile like nothing I had ever seen greeted me as his face became evident.

This is... .

This is..

He repeated.

If you say hey heavenly, it goes right back to the demon's smithy.

Laughed the devil on the hamper.

You approve?

She asked, and then she smiled.

There is something about you, Simon.

She shook her her head as she spoke quietly to herself.

I must be going soft , she said, and then just disappeared.

Right, this is a narration bit.

You have to visualise the following few paragraphs in, like, cool, slow motion, devices stops and a man and a woman walk from the passenger compartment in like dead, excellent stridway, you know, like on CSI, the TV show-ish.

They areula Abdul and Ben Johnson, supernatural detectives and they're like dead cool and stuff.

They move around to the double doors of the van and each of them grasps a handle of a door cool film styl.

They're doing this at precisely the same time, making it all, like cinematically nice to see and stuff.

Ser and Ben pulling the doors simultaneously and Ben's door flies open easily, but due to the battered nature of the van, Sla's door gets stuck a bit, ruining the scene a little as all of her coolness slips away and is lost in the tugging and the swearing that comes after the failure.

It's back to normal speed as the to and grabbed the handle and tried to open it and nothing happens .

Oh, my goodness.

I'm I trying to I can't make this.

Let's try and make this look like a cool movie scene in your head again.

Sorry, sorry.

Back to slow motion.

A naked, incredibly handsome, well built and well hunked, um a man steps from the vehicle and drops to the tarmac in a quasi- superhero landing.

As he rises, he changes into the monster.

He really is a gigantic matte black werewolf, massively muscled with eyes of fire, and he starts to walk slowly towards the camera down the road.

The night, the black night, steps from from the van.

His armour must be incredibly light in this case as he jumps from the back of the van to the ground.

I've already described the night, but you know, he looks really cool, just like, really cool .

That wolf's helm is a masterpiece of the armmorer's art.

On his left armmy, he's wearing a heater shield once more.

Again, his family crest, a white panther on a red field.

He's painted in beautiful detail.

A black armrous sword completes the details.

Mm hmm.

We're nearly at the end of the cinematic cut scene as they make their way to the house at the end of the road.

A man sized black shadow runs out of the verge on the left and slashes at the wolfman.

He catches the arm of the man and throws him off balance back towards the knight, who removes the arm that carries the attacker's sword with a downward slash and then guts him with an upward slash.

The next running man hits the knight's shield as, Simon Ducks, taking him off his feet and launching him over his own head.

The man lands winded on his back before being hitting the throat with the lower pointed part of the knight's coaster shield.

He will not get up again.

A pistol wielding attacker shoots at the werewolf, who leaps into the bushes where the man is hidden.

The bushes become a shaking fury.

There's a curtailed scream and then a fountain of blood that sprays onto the road.

The monster drags the remnants of the body back onto the road, stands over it, and roars to the moon before beginning his walk once more towards the house, stamping over and through his last victim.

God, that was cized. Wasn't?

It should be on TV, isn't it?

Yeah.

The professor.

This armour is light and strong.

I've got no idea what it's made of, but it's far stronger and more flexible than my usual stuff.

The male weighs nothing, but it's so strong.

The gambon is padded perfectly.

This is the kit I I would have designed if I could in my own mind.

In fact, had she read my mind and deduced what I should wear from that, I could put much consideration into that thought, or I could just be happy and get on with the job.

In fact, let's do that, shall we?

Just get on with the job and be thankful to the devil for this level of protection.

She considered everything.

Four hip flasks were in leather strap pockets on the back of the shield.

One was labelled Whiskey, the next labelled coognac.

The third was labelled vodka , and the last was simply other.

Other sounded utterly fascinating.

The house at the end of the road is the focus, and the attacks we receive as we walk down that road are singular and poorly undertaken..

The road behind us is littered with corpses, and satisfyingly.

I see that where the armour has been struck it is still in mint condition.

This is utterly phenomenal.

The devil really knows how to satisfy a person in so many ways.

As we get thirty yards from the door, the wolf stops and sniffs the air.

I defer to his senses.

He is a werewolf, after all.

I walk up to him, standing on his left side.

He turns to me and shakes his head.

But what does he mean?

Two pillars of flame leap up from the ground on either side of the doorway, and two giants stand now before us.

They are obviously something like the Valkalavian I killed earlier.

You remember the one, the one who threatened to flay your living stein from you.

Just before I smashed his face in with a garden gnome.

But he was formidable, and there are two of them now.

They're built like body builders, but on a much larger scale, twelve feet tall, and with animal feet..

The one on the left has a head like some kind of antelope, but not an antelope that you'd see running from the lions of the spelt.

This monster looks like it would attack the lions, and it would be the lions who ran.

The other has the head of an ibis.

It is beautifully feathered, and a plumage runs into the skin of its back and arms.

It was magnificent.

They both hold long spears and emit a sense of terror.

Even I can feel the glamour they give, chickle down my spine to my tail bone, causing me to shiver uncontrollably.

My mouth goes dry.

I turn my head.

The man and the wolf so stand next to me.

Will turns his head and makes eye contact, giving me first a frown , and then a wry smile.

Problem?

He asks.

I have to consider this.

I look at the toe of my boot and notice that it has a lovely bit of the armmorer's craft there. The metal shaped to be claw like, visually, rather beautiful.

I laugh in my helmet.

I'll take the one on the right if you take the one on the left.

He nods and agrees, becoming the werewolf once more.

"On three, I shout as the werewolf leaps at the bird headed giant, taking its spear full in a chest as he slides down the shaft until his jaws clamp on its throat, ripping flesh free.

The bird screams as Will rakes his feet into its guts and tears off its right arm before it hits the ground with a sickening thud.

I made that look rather easy, the bastard, I say to myself as I walk to my d eyed giant.

Come on, dear, let's have a fight, shall we?

I shout as I charge forward, using the upward sweep of my shield to make contact with the sp spearhead and redirect it above me.

I was under its useless attack now and inside its guard.

Venison came to mine as I plunged my sword into its vitals.

Will, the big bird.

Sorry, that's the character at Sesame Street, isn't it?

What?

All right.

The big birdie thing is dead and done .

I slowly pull the spear from my chest.

Oh, it stings a bit and I snap it over my knee before casting it aside.

I already feel the flesh that it's pierced start to knit and heal.

I turn to see the professor hacking at his down deponent with his sword.

Each attack accompanied by a word of admonishment.

Slash you!

Stab!

Th!

Cut.

You!

Whack.

Wood, smash.

Kill.

Bonk.

Dis slash.

Man.

Cut.

Wood.

Stab.

You.

Hack.

Well!

Split.

Just.

Smash..

Stab.

Stab.

Stupid brother !

Slash.

God.

Stuff, stab.

Or not.

Stab.

Because Hack.

Do hack.

Hack.

Dead!

Stab!

He left his sword stuck in its chest as he leaned on his shield and raised his visor and spat.

You uttter.

Utter tosser.

Fuck.

This man's got some issues.

It's not often that I'm frightened by someone's blood lust and intensity, but even I thought, even me, I thought I might need to have a chat with the professor after this and ask him to please go and seek some some kind of mental health help.

I now stood and searched the building.

It must sound strange that I searched the building from outside it, but my senses were so attuned that I could sense the contents of the house without actually being inside it.

There was nothing that lived in there.

There were a lot of dead, but there were no living or undead.

I couldn't find them in the building anywhere.

Had we completed this house?

These things I suppose these dead things were big bosses of the levels, so maybe.

I changed back to my human form and turned to the professor.

Jesus, you look cool in his arm.

Honestly, I hope your imagination can do it justice.

I yelled over at him, "It's all clear!"

He gave me the thumbs up and raised a hand above his head and placed it on top of his helmet.

Soldiers and soldiers and drones and vehicles and all the paraphernalia arrived on the scene almost instantly.

Where from?

I, well, to be honest, I don't actually give a shit shit, but they arrive very quickly.

That was too easy, said Fen.

The professor who had now opened his visor looked a little non-plussed at Fen's information kicking the size of a canoe in a bit of disbelief at Fen's statement , and then turned to me and smiled.

As he looked at me, I started to see purple electrical jars charges play across his plate and start to earth across his armour.

He saw my face change, and saw me looking up and down.

He raised an arm and I saw to the sky and a purple whitening strike struck, or whatever it is , went from the tip of the weapon to the telephone wires above his head.

We thought it was all over, but the sky above became a swirling melee of clouds.

At ground level the air was still an actic, but up in the heavens, the air was being wrenched by some force or forces that I'd never experienced or seen before.

Every now and again the clouds burst and lit in flashes of purple light.

No, this game wasn't over..

This was.

Two massive light .

The sound wave and the force of the strike blew the soldiers and us to the floor.

My head rang like a dull bell as the wolf st stood over me now, just momentarily before we transformed and dragged ourselves to our feet.

Was it all over now?

The soldiers around us were were raising themselves to their feet.

The drones that had been circling the area had been downed, and there was not a single electrical light on in any of the surrounding area.

Even the headlights of the vehicles were dead.

I expected to hear.

I expected to hear screaming and other such sounds, but after the blast, there was nothing but the deafening sound of silence.

At the centre of the street strikes, standing in a residue of burning flames were two, well, it was ear and him, wasn't it?

If you'd read that, the hymn bit, it would have been in capital letters.

It was , I suppose let's supposed to start saying.

She was in golden armour that looked like it had been sculpted and not beaten.

In fact, it looked it looked slightly liquid and it seemed to flow over her.

It was stooded in precious red stones that sparkled with every movement.

It was like proper armour that would be protective.

It wasn't the armour we associate with, you, the height level female fighter within D&D. You know, the two scraps of chain mail that somehow give her untold levels of protection.

This was proper stoppty and sharp things armour.

Under her arm, she had a helmet.

In her other hand , she had an unfeasibly large sword.

Her face was evil beautiful.

Her eyes were purple, glowing arms, and my sphincter, it gave a slight twitch of fear.

The man, I think it was a man, had to be, I think, was twice as tall as her and again armoured in gold and liquid like armour.

Green and blue precious stones highlighted his plate.

He made the giants that we'd battered a bit before it looked small.

He wore his helmet, it was tall and crested with a swirl at his pinnacle.

His hands were empty and held at his hips.

On each hip was a blade, much like he his mother's, but in even greater proportions.

The purple lightning played across them, often arcing and into the ground.

As we watched the giant man place the palms of his hands together, grasping his fingers, pulling them apart with what seemed like some difficulty, he formed like an intensely bright white ball of energy between them.

As he continued to open his hands, it grew and grew until it was the size of a coruscating basket.

Sounds about right.

When he seemed ready, he pushed his hands slowly upwards, releasing the ball, which continued to travel slowly upwards until it was 10 feet above his head.

I was suddenly tackled.

The professor had thr me to the floor and shouted at me to cover my eyes.

There was an implosion.

It was silent, I felt a changing air pressure, light burnt through my hands and eyelids for a few moments.

And then I remember nothing, nothing but darkness and a stop of the clock for a moment.

Consciousness.

I sit up.

I shake my head.

The professor was already struggling to get to his feet from his knees.

Nothing else moved.

Everyone else I sensed was gone and dead.

The two gods stood before us now.

They didn't speak.

They just did.

Nothing.

I'm the prison Yeah yeah yeah yeah Brought to you an association with Grendel Prress .

This is Werewolf the podcast, a serial killer drama. 

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