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Curse of Darkness VIII - The Wild Hunt
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<blockquote data-quote="Greenfield" data-source="post: 5963154" data-attributes="member: 6669384"><p>Seburn dove for the darkened streets below, away from the open sky. Hern strove in vane to pick him out against that dark cityscape, cursing at the very curse that denied him moonlight, or even good clear starlight to hunt by. Then his mount dove in pursuit.</p><p> </p><p> Sebrun darted into an open window, a move which elicited some outraged cries from the residents, but which gave him a path that the mounted huntsman couldn’t follow. Then he worked his way south and east. He felt his spell begin to fade, and he settled towards the earth below. He took a moment to examine his wound again, wishing that Penn had included some bandages. Then he laughed, for he realized which belt this was and invoked its power. The healing energies washed over him, and his skin was once again flawless and unbroken.</p><p> </p><p> A few moments and another spell, and he took to the sky again, this time on the wings of the Avarial, the legendary Sky Elves. He hoped that this form would have a new scent, and throw the hounds off even further. Whether they caught him or not, he was going to make this a hunt to remember.</p><p> </p><p> He changed direction as well, cutting hard to his right and straight towards the southern borders of the city. He swept over the wall like a cloud, low and fast, and quickly sighted a road heading away from the city.</p><p> </p><p> Behind him he heard the baying of the hounds fade abruptly, and fear gripped his heart once more. He had been able to track his pursuers by the sounds of madness and chaos that followed, for wherever they went their cries drove people to flight. Now he heard only half of them, and had to wonder if the others were somehow sneaking up on him.</p><p> </p><p> But in any case, the answer was speed. He marveled at his fortune, for his spirit body seemed tireless. He was able to beat his wings as hard and as fast as he might, and his breath never came hard, his throat never grew raw, his strength never failed him. He sped off into the night like the north wind, leaving the city behind.</p><p> *** </p><p> “We can’t keep this pace.”, Penn gasped, setting down Seburn’s feet as he strove to catch his breath. </p><p> </p><p> “Well, they’re not hunting his body.”, Imagina pointed out. “Can’t we just leave him somewhere? I’ll stay with him.”</p><p> </p><p> Penn almost laughed at the sheer brilliance of it, the pure simplicity.</p><p> </p><p> “That’s right, the pack isn’t hunting you, only the city guards, and they won’t have a clue to look here.”</p><p> </p><p> He sang his final song of summoning for the night, and yet another of the winged beasts came into being. “Take them wherever she would go, for as long as you can.”, Penn instructed the creature. </p><p> </p><p> “Head for a landmark of some kind, so we can find you in the morning. A stand of trees preferably, away from people. Someone would probably report an outland woman and a dead body, if they spotted you. Now away!”</p><p> </p><p> Marcus and Penn watched as Imagina and their dead friend winged away into the night. “Stay safe, friends.”, Marcus prayed, to no god in particular. Then the pair set off away from the city, following the road north.</p><p> *** </p><p> Seburn cut sharply left, across the irrigation canal that ran beside the road. He held that course for a brief time, then cut back across again. He dragged one foot in the dirt on occasion, to make sure there was a track to follow. The hounds might be as tireless as he was, but if they were going to catch him he was going to make them earn it this night.</p><p> </p><p> He kept low to the ground through all his maneuvers, skipping over low walls, weaving across every bit of rough ground and briar patch he could see. Behind him he knew that the huntsman rode high in the night, trusting the Sluagh to sweep the ground for his spoor, driving him before them.</p><p> </p><p> And they were fast. He had seen them as they left the city, pouring through the ways like a wave of shadow, leaving madness in their wake. Some people had fled before them while others ran or rode with them, caught up in the magic of the hunt. But those hangers on were mortal, unlike the tireless Sluagh, and fell behind as the miles passed. Now there were only the hounds, the hunter, and him.</p><p> </p><p> Ahead he heard a familiar sound, one which chilled him to his core. The baying of the hounds behind was being answered by a second pack up ahead. Somehow they had managed to sweep past, catching him between. He had seen many a deer in this plight, suddenly sprinting to one side as the jaws of the trap closed. The deer seldom made it, and he had little hope for himself in that path, but he wasn’t a deer.</p><p> </p><p> He knew that his wings would fail him soon as their magic expired, so he began to cast anew. </p><p> </p><p> He hit the water with a splash, thrilling to the new sensation as the water surged through his gills. He had grown up in a port city, and the Sea Elves were no strangers to him, but he had never realized the pure exhilaration they felt in their home element.</p><p> </p><p> He twisted like an eel in the water, doubling back on his previous course and driving himself through the shallow canal faster than most mortal men could run. Let them follow his scent now!</p><p> </p><p> He flashed back towards the city, and was looking for a way to the river when something struck the water nearby. It was an arrow the size of a javelin. He had turned back directly into the path of the hunter, and while the hounds couldn’t scent him, the rider in the sky had had a perfect vantage point to see into the canal.</p><p> </p><p> He surged forward, desperate for an escape. Pain burned through his leg as the next shot scored true, and in desperation he diverted into a narrow culvert that cut directly beneath the road. He took advantage of the cover the bridge provided to pull the arrow from his leg, and reached for the magic of the belt again. It wasn’t there. Penn must have used the rest of it sometime during the day. He flashed back to the sight of the Bard laying hands on the two slain aides, hoping to grant them even the shadow of life. But these people didn’t have a “land of the dead”, no gates to be closed, no way to cheat death by such a ruse. And apparently, Seburn wasn’t going to be able to cheat Arwyn much longer either.</p><p> </p><p> He doubled back again, towards the canal he had just left, sinking low into the deep mud at the bottom and creeping slowly. With luck the huntsman would be waiting for him at the other end, and he could creep away.</p><p> </p><p> It almost worked, but Hern had been hunting for centuries, and had seen great heroes and crafty villains all try to best death. He had seen every trick a hundred times. He rode high above the bridge, and fired down the moment he spied movement.</p><p> </p><p> Pain poured through Seburn as the stout shaft nearly pinned him to the bottom of the canal. He reached back and snapped the shaft off behind, then drew the rest through to free himself. Then he surged ahead like a dolphin and breached the surface, to land in the field where he hit the ground running.</p><p> </p><p> And run he did, long powerful strides driving him towards the tree line of a nearby orchard. Lacking any undergrowth, it wouldn’t offer him the cover of a true forest, but it might hide him from the eyes of his high pursuer.</p><p> </p><p> To his amazement he reached the treeline and took a moment to look behind. Hern had ridden in low, scarcely thirty feet from the ground, to allow him the angle to see beneath the canopy of the trees, thin as it was in a cultivated orchard. And flowing across that field came the Sluagh like the things of nightmare that they were.</p><p> </p><p> His left hand found his pouch one last time, and fire poured from his right. The explosion caught the rider by surprise, scorching the field below and washing up over him and his mount.</p><p> </p><p> Seburn had had no hope of defeating Hern with a single bit of fire magic, but his mount was far less formidable. To the Barbarian’s surprise, it fell beneath his blast, and the huntsman tumbled from the sky. He didn’t wait to see what followed. He turned and ran once more. With his pursuer on foot, he just might have a chance.</p><p> *** </p><p> “We don’t have a chance if we stay on the road.”, Penn gasped, staggering to a halt. “We need cover, a way to break the scent, a place to rest.”</p><p> </p><p> “Can’t you fly?”, Marcus asked. “They couldn’t follow you then.”</p><p> </p><p> “And leave you behind?”, the Bard asked in shock. “We’re better off if we stick together.” But the Cleric’s suggestion had sparked an idea. “Brace yourself.”, he advised. “And you may want to cover your mouth and nose.”</p><p> </p><p> He began to sing a song of change, and his form twisted in the night. Transforming into something horrible. A stench of dark corruption rose all about him.</p><p> </p><p> “What did you do?”, Marcus gasped, struggling not to retch at the foul emanation.</p><p> </p><p> “Troglodyte.”, Penn explained. “They’re following our scent? Let’s give them one they’d rather not follow.”</p><p> </p><p> “How long can you keep that form?”, Marcus asked, backing away quickly.</p><p> </p><p> “A bit more than an hour. It won’t last to dawn, but it might buy us some time.”</p><p> </p><p> “Well let me get upwind of you. Better, I’ll lead, you follow. Just keep a distance, will you? We’ll head for the river. Maybe we can find some help there.”</p><p> ***</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Greenfield, post: 5963154, member: 6669384"] Seburn dove for the darkened streets below, away from the open sky. Hern strove in vane to pick him out against that dark cityscape, cursing at the very curse that denied him moonlight, or even good clear starlight to hunt by. Then his mount dove in pursuit. Sebrun darted into an open window, a move which elicited some outraged cries from the residents, but which gave him a path that the mounted huntsman couldn’t follow. Then he worked his way south and east. He felt his spell begin to fade, and he settled towards the earth below. He took a moment to examine his wound again, wishing that Penn had included some bandages. Then he laughed, for he realized which belt this was and invoked its power. The healing energies washed over him, and his skin was once again flawless and unbroken. A few moments and another spell, and he took to the sky again, this time on the wings of the Avarial, the legendary Sky Elves. He hoped that this form would have a new scent, and throw the hounds off even further. Whether they caught him or not, he was going to make this a hunt to remember. He changed direction as well, cutting hard to his right and straight towards the southern borders of the city. He swept over the wall like a cloud, low and fast, and quickly sighted a road heading away from the city. Behind him he heard the baying of the hounds fade abruptly, and fear gripped his heart once more. He had been able to track his pursuers by the sounds of madness and chaos that followed, for wherever they went their cries drove people to flight. Now he heard only half of them, and had to wonder if the others were somehow sneaking up on him. But in any case, the answer was speed. He marveled at his fortune, for his spirit body seemed tireless. He was able to beat his wings as hard and as fast as he might, and his breath never came hard, his throat never grew raw, his strength never failed him. He sped off into the night like the north wind, leaving the city behind. *** “We can’t keep this pace.”, Penn gasped, setting down Seburn’s feet as he strove to catch his breath. “Well, they’re not hunting his body.”, Imagina pointed out. “Can’t we just leave him somewhere? I’ll stay with him.” Penn almost laughed at the sheer brilliance of it, the pure simplicity. “That’s right, the pack isn’t hunting you, only the city guards, and they won’t have a clue to look here.” He sang his final song of summoning for the night, and yet another of the winged beasts came into being. “Take them wherever she would go, for as long as you can.”, Penn instructed the creature. “Head for a landmark of some kind, so we can find you in the morning. A stand of trees preferably, away from people. Someone would probably report an outland woman and a dead body, if they spotted you. Now away!” Marcus and Penn watched as Imagina and their dead friend winged away into the night. “Stay safe, friends.”, Marcus prayed, to no god in particular. Then the pair set off away from the city, following the road north. *** Seburn cut sharply left, across the irrigation canal that ran beside the road. He held that course for a brief time, then cut back across again. He dragged one foot in the dirt on occasion, to make sure there was a track to follow. The hounds might be as tireless as he was, but if they were going to catch him he was going to make them earn it this night. He kept low to the ground through all his maneuvers, skipping over low walls, weaving across every bit of rough ground and briar patch he could see. Behind him he knew that the huntsman rode high in the night, trusting the Sluagh to sweep the ground for his spoor, driving him before them. And they were fast. He had seen them as they left the city, pouring through the ways like a wave of shadow, leaving madness in their wake. Some people had fled before them while others ran or rode with them, caught up in the magic of the hunt. But those hangers on were mortal, unlike the tireless Sluagh, and fell behind as the miles passed. Now there were only the hounds, the hunter, and him. Ahead he heard a familiar sound, one which chilled him to his core. The baying of the hounds behind was being answered by a second pack up ahead. Somehow they had managed to sweep past, catching him between. He had seen many a deer in this plight, suddenly sprinting to one side as the jaws of the trap closed. The deer seldom made it, and he had little hope for himself in that path, but he wasn’t a deer. He knew that his wings would fail him soon as their magic expired, so he began to cast anew. He hit the water with a splash, thrilling to the new sensation as the water surged through his gills. He had grown up in a port city, and the Sea Elves were no strangers to him, but he had never realized the pure exhilaration they felt in their home element. He twisted like an eel in the water, doubling back on his previous course and driving himself through the shallow canal faster than most mortal men could run. Let them follow his scent now! He flashed back towards the city, and was looking for a way to the river when something struck the water nearby. It was an arrow the size of a javelin. He had turned back directly into the path of the hunter, and while the hounds couldn’t scent him, the rider in the sky had had a perfect vantage point to see into the canal. He surged forward, desperate for an escape. Pain burned through his leg as the next shot scored true, and in desperation he diverted into a narrow culvert that cut directly beneath the road. He took advantage of the cover the bridge provided to pull the arrow from his leg, and reached for the magic of the belt again. It wasn’t there. Penn must have used the rest of it sometime during the day. He flashed back to the sight of the Bard laying hands on the two slain aides, hoping to grant them even the shadow of life. But these people didn’t have a “land of the dead”, no gates to be closed, no way to cheat death by such a ruse. And apparently, Seburn wasn’t going to be able to cheat Arwyn much longer either. He doubled back again, towards the canal he had just left, sinking low into the deep mud at the bottom and creeping slowly. With luck the huntsman would be waiting for him at the other end, and he could creep away. It almost worked, but Hern had been hunting for centuries, and had seen great heroes and crafty villains all try to best death. He had seen every trick a hundred times. He rode high above the bridge, and fired down the moment he spied movement. Pain poured through Seburn as the stout shaft nearly pinned him to the bottom of the canal. He reached back and snapped the shaft off behind, then drew the rest through to free himself. Then he surged ahead like a dolphin and breached the surface, to land in the field where he hit the ground running. And run he did, long powerful strides driving him towards the tree line of a nearby orchard. Lacking any undergrowth, it wouldn’t offer him the cover of a true forest, but it might hide him from the eyes of his high pursuer. To his amazement he reached the treeline and took a moment to look behind. Hern had ridden in low, scarcely thirty feet from the ground, to allow him the angle to see beneath the canopy of the trees, thin as it was in a cultivated orchard. And flowing across that field came the Sluagh like the things of nightmare that they were. His left hand found his pouch one last time, and fire poured from his right. The explosion caught the rider by surprise, scorching the field below and washing up over him and his mount. Seburn had had no hope of defeating Hern with a single bit of fire magic, but his mount was far less formidable. To the Barbarian’s surprise, it fell beneath his blast, and the huntsman tumbled from the sky. He didn’t wait to see what followed. He turned and ran once more. With his pursuer on foot, he just might have a chance. *** “We don’t have a chance if we stay on the road.”, Penn gasped, staggering to a halt. “We need cover, a way to break the scent, a place to rest.” “Can’t you fly?”, Marcus asked. “They couldn’t follow you then.” “And leave you behind?”, the Bard asked in shock. “We’re better off if we stick together.” But the Cleric’s suggestion had sparked an idea. “Brace yourself.”, he advised. “And you may want to cover your mouth and nose.” He began to sing a song of change, and his form twisted in the night. Transforming into something horrible. A stench of dark corruption rose all about him. “What did you do?”, Marcus gasped, struggling not to retch at the foul emanation. “Troglodyte.”, Penn explained. “They’re following our scent? Let’s give them one they’d rather not follow.” “How long can you keep that form?”, Marcus asked, backing away quickly. “A bit more than an hour. It won’t last to dawn, but it might buy us some time.” “Well let me get upwind of you. Better, I’ll lead, you follow. Just keep a distance, will you? We’ll head for the river. Maybe we can find some help there.” *** [/QUOTE]
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