Siberian Bear Hunting Armor Novels & Stories

The old man nodded. He didn’t like the plan, but he understood it. “Very well. Good luck. And try not to die.” Hayward chuckled. “I’m pretty good at that, I’d say.” He started rifling through his bags again until he found what he was after: inconspicuous weapons and armor. Hayward put on a shirt that looked like it was merely a little stiff but actually had thin metal plates concealed in the fabric. He then concealed a pair of bracers and knives under his sleeves. If he was very lucky, he wouldn’t need any of it.

Load the snow transports with heavy cargo because we need to transport our gear to the mountains. The courtyard was a flurry of organized chaos. Fifty of the deadliest Black Summit guards were loading into heavy, all-terrain winter transports. The soldiers who entered battle used their standard armor replacement of thermal gear which provided them thick insulation. They started carrying military flashlights which had undergone retrofitting to become high-powered UV bulb flashlights and they brought crossbows which contained wooden stakes treated for battle. I stood by the lead transport, wrapped in a thick, white fur-lined parka. The safe position in my coat allows me to carry Leo who is bun

Security rotations. Everything we needed to end this. Tonight. I stood at the center of the armory, checking my own gear while coordinating final details through the mind-link. Silver-resistant armor—something Lord Castellan's people had provided, made from materials I didn't fully understand. Weapons designed for close combat. Communication devices that worked for both wolves and vampires. "Eastern strike team, confirm positions," I said through the tactical radio. "Confirmed. Twelve vampires plus eight wolves. Ready on your mark." The vampire lieutenant's voice was crisp, professional.

Every single muscle in my arms screamed to grab that steel skinning knife from the counter and drive it straight into his sparkling eyes. I hopped into my Midnight Wolf Runner and tore down the gravel path toward my den. I stripped off my sweaty running gear, let the boiling water wash the filth from my skin in the stone basin, and got ready for the pack meetings. I pulled on a pair of tight black leather tracking trousers that hugged my thighs and a sleeveless, light blue tunice made of soft deer-skin. I fastened a thin, dark hide belt around my waist and threw on a heavy bone necklace the elders gave me winters ago. I yanked on my heavy brown hunting boots and laced them tight. My hair was

What had Alpha Charles been preparing for? Before me are hundreds upon hundreds of pieces of armour, from helmets, breastplates, leg shields, Kevlar vests, armoured arm cuffs and gloves. I put everything I can on, they won’t stop the impact of a bullet and won’t fully withstand a wolf bite. But they will provide enough resistance to prevent the assault from being deadly. I return to the training room, to find that I’m one of the last ones back. “Why is there so much armour here?” I ask, still unable to understand why a werewolf pack would need such things.

There they exchanged their goods for the Tūkāriri Jungle’s pliant material. Back in the Northern Province, the village seamstresses would seal the wrists, neck, and ankles of the suit with sinew derived from the back muscle of the caribou. Because animal sinew shrunk when wet, it limited the amount of water entering and leaving the suit. A blue Slayer would get wet inside his suit but the water would be trapped and remain warm.

“Riye, come to the armory and get me my combat gear. Gather the Upsilons in the parking lot fifteen minutes before 3.” [Copy that, Alpha.] “You can come, too. Leal will be happy to see you.” [Yes, Alpha.] As soon as he reached the pack mansion, he immediately took off his suit and readied his men. He changed to his combat gear, which is just a bulletproof vest, combat pants, and an under armor shirt. He went from his office up top to the basement where the armory is and took a pistol. He loaded it with silver bullets, a weakness of the werewolves, and took a few more magazines in case he ran out. He stored a few daggers in his hidden pockets and Finally, he took his shades and plopped them o

"We’re burning moonlight." I stripped out of the ruined dress and pulled on the black combat pants. The fabric was rough, industrial-grade canvas, but it felt like armor. I pulled the tactical turtleneck over my head, the snug fit restricting my movement slightly but offering protection. I laced up the heavy boots, feeling the surge of adrenaline mixing with the wolf's urge to hunt. I wasn't a victim anymore. I was a warrior of Silver Creek.

AVA’s POV The night of Hunter’s challenge finally came. Me, Jared, Brock, and Syria all came along to be by his side. As we all entered the arena, everyone was screaming and cheering for Hunter’s name. It was fifty-fifty actually. But most are women, making my wolf growl lowly knowing how many women wanted our mate. I mean look at him. His toned muscles are visible as he is wearing nothing but boxers and shorts. Compared to his father who was wearing a massive armor in his body, Hunter is indeed a god.

He took Damian’s hand and pulled him up. "But you still leave your left side open," Damian noted, tapping Leo’s ribs. "I'm working on it," Leo smiled. THE ARMORY We geared up. The Sanctuary Guard wasn't a ragtag militia anymore. Thanks to Seraphina’s funding and Ironclaw’s logistics, they were a modern army. Matte black armor woven with carbon nanotubes and silver thread. Assault rifles modified to fire depleted uranium rounds (for armor piercing) and hollow points filled with wolfsbane (for rogues). But for the Hollow Men, we needed something else. "Bone," Silas said, walking into the armory with a crate. "If they are anti-magic, metal might conduct their Null field. We go primitive." He op