The Wild Hunt ((Open :3))

[Anonymous]

It was time to go a-hunting.

Ffernfael burst from the tangled mess of blankets on the floor of his den and stalked from one end of the chamber to the other, the long hems of his black slacks whipping the ground.  It was a good night.  A very good night.  Time to leave this nest and find a mortal to keep for a while.  Cozy as this one was, it wasn't big enough to hold anything else.  It would be underfoot every where he turned.

Unless it could cling to the ceiling.  There was an idea...

Ffernfael strode through the shimmering black curtain separating his den from the tunnel that led outside, the curtain falling and wrapping around him.  At first it swirled like smoke, but it soon began to swish and chime as it solidified into clothing.  Tall black boots with silver buckles, a sleeveless black duster, a skinny black belt wrapped twice around his waist, a long silver chain also wrapped twice around his waist with ends that nearly scraped the ground, a long white stole around his neck, black arm warmers that looked like they could have been part of the duster and a black wide-brimmed hat pulled down low on his face.  He stepped through the earth next, walking out of the hill covering this den.  The sun was halfway down and the hounds began to howl.

There were six this time.  Only one of them struck Ffernfael as a proper hound, and even he wasn't completely perfect.  He was lithe and white and while his head was red, it was made of metal.  Even his teeth were red steel.  Four of the others were slope backed beasts with crooked ears, large mad eyes and slavering jaws.  The last was very large and very black.  It was hard to tell where part of him ended and another part began.  He might as well have been a set of yellow jaws in pink gums connected to a shadow.

In another time, his steed would have been different.  A fierce destrier or an enormous ram.  These days, an animal just wouldn't do.  There was nothing more powerful these days than the metal contraptions mortals rode around on.  The hounds were tradition, but the mount was up to the rider.  All he needed was a horn... and his steed came with one built in.  Ffernfael whistled, high and sharp and the ground between himself and the hounds began to ripple, the first wheel already bursting through.

Once the handlebars were above ground, Ffernfael grabbed them and pulled the motorcycle free, dragging it forward a few steps and waving the dirt off it.  The hounds rushing ahead of it and looked back, jumping and panting and waiting.  Ffernfael climbed onto the bike and pulled the sword mounted on the seat.  The metal glowed red and gold in the sunset.  He sheathed the sword and stared into the sun, glowering and revving the motorcycle's engine.

It would begin when it always did.  When the sun went down.

[Anonymous]

“You can’t do this to me!” Qani howled, screams echoing down the endless stone corridor. “Don’t you know who I am?!”

Two men, demons, were dragging her along by her underarms, the heel of her boot dragging along the corridor. She was limp, not as a childish act of defiance, but because of the sharp wooden stake sticking out of her chest. It paralysed her, but didn’t kill her. Only by beheading of incineration could she be killed. Four other men walked along with them, their eyes looking dead ahead, afraid to look at her.

And so they should be, the vile traitors. All would be killed, in due time.

Her left leg, a complex mechanical peg leg from the knee down, scraped along the floor, a deadweight for the two carrying her to bear. Insults streamed from her mouth, ignored by her captors.

She still couldn’t believe her idiots of generals had managed to concoct this, after all, she’d chosen them to lead her armies because they could lead, but not concoct a plan to overthrow her. Apparently her ability to judge demons character had not improved since the last time she was deposed, some 1200 years past.

The tirade of curses more foul than any human had ever uttered ceased to flow out of the little vampires mouth when the party stepped through a set of large, ornate doors. “What?” she screeched, eyes sweeping the room. If they were where she thought they were…

Oh dear.

A stone circle, all covered in dark runes, occupied most of the room, set into the floor. Without speaking two of the betrayers moved to either side of it to kneel and rest their hands on a set of runes, making the whole circle light up. She could feel their magic flowing into it seethe with energy.

As the third and fourth joined them, forming cardinal points around the circle, it began to fill. A purple substance of an indefinable quality leaked out from the edges, pooling out until it filled the entire portal, a writhing mass of energy.

From his position, one of them spoke. “Qani Mephistros Al’Shae, former Queen of the unholy trinity and mistress of a billion demon hordes, we hereby sentence you to banishment.” With a sneer the leader signalled the two holding her, who responded by roughly tossing her into the abyss. Her last thought before being surrounded by pain was that she would kill them all.

Falling followed, endless falling, pain like she hadn’t felt in many aeons consuming her. She was still unable to move, unable to summon up any magic to fight the portal, not with the stake still lodged in her heart.

In the mortal realm, above the wastes of earth, near where a man and his dogs were waiting for the night, a purple tear appeared in the sky. Qani tumbled out of it, falling through the air and landing heavily on the hard ground. Her body was long toughened by thousands of years of vampirism, though still felt soft to the touch.

She looked much as she had on the day she’d been turned, a sixteen year old elf, beautiful, as it was with that race. Her skin was pale, with flushes of heat where stolen blood flowed, in her cheeks especially, and red hair cascaded in long curls all around her. She breathed heavily, little fangs poking out from her plush lips. A long black coat with a large, turned down collar was done up just above her navel by a single, silver padlock, flaring out both above and below the lock to reveal a tight pair of lacy white hotpants on the bottom and an expanse of cleavage on the top. At least, it normally would have shown off cleavage. Right now it was pulled aside by the stake, showing off an impaled left breast.

A single heeled boot covered her right foot, running up her calf, while her metal leg sat on the left, equally useless with no impulses able to reach it. Black, fingerless gloves were on her hands, covering up to the mille of her upper arm, leaving a gap of pale flesh between them and the sleeveless coat. The bottom of the coat flared out like a dress when she was standing, leaving her currently lying on a bed of lace ruffles, which formed the inner laver of the bottom section of the coat.

As a final, poetic touch her wide brimmed black akubra floated down to land beside her in the dust, apparently sent in after her by her former comrades as a joke.

The portal had already closed, leaving her alone and paralysed. It would take weeks for the thirst to kill her, weeks of slowly going insane until she died.

Fate, however, had apparently not chosen this to be the day of Qani’s long overdue death, as at that very moment a hound, a big black beast of a thing, came sniffing and growling at her. Just as it looked ready to take her head off, Qani let out a piercing scream, something between a howl and a hiss, baring her fangs at the hound, sending it whimpering off. Pathetic creature. It was the thousand years too young to be messing with an elder vampire. “Pull this damn thing out!” she screamed, hoping that the beast was not just some stray and had a master nearby. It made sense, the beast was obviously some sort of demon spawn, and those would require a master.

[Anonymous]

The sudden sound sent a delicious chill up Ffernfael's spine.  That was the sound a proper hound made!  What followed however, was not.  The whimpering of the black hound, Ffernfael saw him creeping away from something - hunched and brooding and the shout that followed.  Frustrated with the black hound's sniveling, Ffernfael kicked him when he was close enough.  The hound stumbled, making a sound that was part snarl and mostly yelp.  One of the slope backed hounds, all too eager to sink his teeth in flesh, leaped upon the black hound and got his neck torn open for his effort.  He made a noise more pathetic than anything the black hound uttered and bounded away.  The wound on his neck wasn't serious.  If the screamer hadn't screamed, Ffernfael probably would have made it serious.  The hounds needed to save themselves for the prey.

Taking another look at the setting sun and guessing how much time was left before it sank beneath the horizon, Ffernfael swung a leg over the motorcycle and stepped away from it.  The hounds froze, all eyes on him.  It wasn't what they were used to, lost, they fell in line behind him.  First the red and white, then the slope backs and finally the black.  Ffernfael didn't have to walk long to see who screamed, a fair young maid, impaled on a stray branch.

Ffernfael laughed, a single 'ha' that seemed to burst from his mouth.  Grinning, showing a set of pointed teeth, he sat on his heels next to her and planted his palms in the ground, leaning forward slightly to have a better look at her face.  "Hallo Miss.  A fine evening, yes?"

[Anonymous]

The little ball of rage that was Qani hissed at nothing as she lay there, paralysed, as powerless as a little girl. Anyone that came along could do whatever they liked to her and that, above all the deception and betrayal, pissed her off the most.

And then, with timing that could only be matched by irony if he was a rapist, a man appeared on the edge of her vision. She watched him trot over, materialising into a grey skinned fellow with white hair as he entered the area her eyes could see without her head moving.

Were it not for the spike sticking out of her chest, she would have laughed. “Oh very fine!” she spat, a snarl mixing with a tortured grin as she met his gaze. “Now listen here mortal! Pull this damn thing out of my chest and perhaps I’ll consider not killing you!”

There, that was civil. Hopefully the bastard would be scared into doing it, then she could feed off him and get going, to….wherever it was she would go. That was undecided as of yet.

Otherwise she’d have to bargain with him, which would be tough because she had little but herself to trade. She would not be reduced to begging.