Viktor had, at most, just enough time to approach the others and reach out for a handshake. Up close, and much more visible, Viktor looked quite a bit less threatening than he might have on the hill. Even in his high-grade clothes and with that arrowgun in his hand, he wasn't exactly tall, and the friendly expression of greeting he held looked completely genuine. Unfortunately, meetings were cut short, and at the sound of the roar, his attention snapped in its direction. His gun raised, and his hands gripped the weapon tightly and properly, one hand on the sliding pump below the rotating barrels holding the darts, the other ready to shoot, finger just outside the trigger guard.<br/><br/>Likewise, the hunters on the hill moved themselves into position, their own guns and bows raised and ready to shoot. The ones who had been sitting at the trail, at least four others, came atop the hill alongside them, readying themselves for incoming confrontation. At the sounds of multiple roars, some looks of worry were exchange, but Viktor himself stayed level-headed. "Everyone," He said clearly, ordering the hunters that had followed him here. "Stick together. One of 'em comes, make some noise. Scare the bastards." The tried-and-true method of using fear as a weapon seemed like the only option now. The bears were hard enough to kill alone. A whole pack? May as well have been impossible.<br/><br/>Gunshots at the sight of the visible beasts acted as a signal to start. Viktor, leveling his arrowgun's sights with one of the ones not being engaged, pulled the trigger. A strong puff of air shot forward a metal-tipped dart, hitting a bear in the neck. A roar of discomfort, and its focus, were the result. As the beast turned towards him, Viktor pumped the gun, readying another barrel, and shot again. This dart hit the creature in the nostril, piercing its nose and causing even greater distress, and served as a good enough distraction for him to switch focus. The pressure gauge on the weapon was lowering. He suspected he had enough for another shot, maybe two. No time to ready the pump, either.<br/><br/>The distressed roar of the leader was a good sign. Some sort of progress was being made, and the sound of hefty feet running away meant the leader was essentially taken care of. Another hunt for another day, perhaps. A beast of that size couldn't be allowed near any civilization. The rest of the pack was still an immediate threat, but the combined shooting and yelling of the other hunters managed to spook at least a few of the beasts. When Rock Hammer's roar tore through the still air, and the boulder killed yet another of the pack, the rest decided survival was more important than the meager prey they could obtain from the humans in the area. Bloodied from bullets and frightened by sound, the lesser bears turned and ran to live another day, though the one Viktor shot at remained in place, still trying to tear the darts from its face. An incoming slug from a hunter's shotgun struck the beast's eye, and it fell.<br/><br/>Viktor released a deep breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, and lowered the gun. He surveyed the post-carnage area, frowning to himself. The death of the bears that hadn't escaped wasn't bad, per se. Meat, oil, fur, and bones could all be used back in civilization. But multiple bear corpses would be hard to deal with. Carrion-seekers would doubtlessly come, pragmatic beasts looking for an easy meal in the woods. And the sounds they'd made would be carried for miles, potentially bringing about other, far-off threats. After some stillness, he approached one of the dead bears, and plucked the two darts he fired from its snout. Once he had them, he released the air from the gun's pressurized reserve by flicking what was once the revolver in the frame's safety switch, rendering the weapon unusable until it was repumped.<br/><br/>"Well, that happened," He commented, wiping the darts off on the bear's fur. Once they were reasonably clean, he lowered the arrowgun's barrels and placed them in the weapon once more.