Knight in Amour

Hunting hounds

21/04/2008 05:35 The grounds, Willowcombe Manor

Angelica stumbles away from the building as it collapses. For a moment in the falling debris she can see Hope and Minerva but all to quickly they are lost as the upper story falls in. She runs back away from the cloud. The rolling debris impacting against her leaving sharp stings and scratches but mercifully nothing larger. She knows the others could never be so lucky. As the noise behind her dies she stops on the grassy slope and turns back towards the building. The dust still swirls but it is clear there is nothing left of the main house. She stands panting hoping to see some one come through the cloud, dreading to see some thing. She clings to the hope that this is the end and that the collapse of the house has also destroyed the god their actions have created.

Then the sound of baying behind her kills the hope. The hunt is still wild.

-

The Hounds of Herne sense the loss of their lord. It run's through their communal mind like a wave. They turn baying to his moon in frustration at the loss of his guidance. The wolves turn and flow down from the forest back towards the place that held his grove. As they approach the decaying structure they see one of the original pray running ahead of them. As one they target on it.

Angelica screams and sprints instinctively back to the only civilisation she can be sure off. She knows the chances of reaching it before the hounds reach her is slim at best. But the memory of what the pack left behind of Mistress Dream is incentive enough.

-

He is hunting. This is all too familiar. He pushes through the memory echoes clinging to his neurones like the suckers of a vine and into his own memories. The one that rises to the surface is Sierra Leone. The reason why is all too obvious. There too he hunted, thought then it was through jungle terrain and after things that were once children. Still as Emrys had said the image of the Green Man is universal, and there is a reason for that. The trees may be different. The origins of the bodies that became the hounds may be different. But the situation is all too familiar. Of course, he had at least been dressed then.

The debris of the house should hurt more to walk over, he knows he is not that high on adrenalin that he would be ignoring the pain. Some how the matter of the building has become little more than a fine dust. It calls to mind the ashes he raked out of Taid's fireplace on cold mornings; just enough heat in the dust to not feel cold to his skin. He clings to the memory. It is a distraction from his current situation but he needs it to ground himself back in the man he is not the god he was. At some level the power of the spirit was all too tempting. He can see why 'nutters' make the deals they do. But he knows well enough the dangers such paths lead too. Besides it we be awkward to have to complete a contract on himself, embarrassing for one of the team to have to do it and bloody annoying for the honour to go to White Watch. It is enough to make him determined enough to remove the last few remnants of the gods influence.

The cleansing is not a moment too soon. The baying of hounds is getting louder. As he emerges from the dust cloud he can see the grassy slope leading up the the forest. Heading towards him is the hunt. They are together in a bunch, their paths focused on the figure only a few yards ahead of them.

He raises the shotgun. In any other situation he would be woefully under equipped. There are a dozen hounds and the Remington 870 has only 8 shots. He longs for the accuracy and range of his FR MC51(S), but the cover only called for a shotgun and the Machine Carbine, and its extra 12 shots, are 130 miles away. The only advantage he has is the way the pack is grouping. Even so he knows he is going to have to make every shot count. He relaxes his shoulders, and slows his minds just as Taid taught him to. He waits for the pertinent moment.

-

Angelica stares a head as she runs. She can hear the beasts closing behind her. She does not need to look to know that they are catching her. She does not want to look at the teeth and claws that are on her heals. All she wants is some sign of salvation. But the figure that comes through the settling cloud promises anything but. She recognises him instantly as the slave they used in the binding ceremony. There is no sign of the Gods power within him, but she has no idea how the man broke free. He has no reason to think kindly of her or her sisters, given everything that has been done to him. The weapon he is holding is all too deadly and pointing straight at her. But she has no where else to run too. With the slope even changing direction slightly would require slowing and the hounds are already almost upon her.

-

War takes his first shot. It skirts to the left of the woman. The hounds circling in her fall under its impact. The momentum of the round carrying through the first creatures and into the second. The lead beast crumbles, bringing down the two behind it as they collide with the body. The fourth leaps high, clearing the bodies. He shoots again, the round taking the leaping creature and removing its head. It falls on to the beast struggling to free themselves from the corpses of the fallen.

Angelica screams as the shot just misses her. Instinctively she dodges away from the path of the bullet. Her feet slip on the slope and she falls. In fear she curls into a ball, pulling in her arms and legs to give the beasts less to grab hold off. Above her the shot gun booms again. She shakes in fear wondering which will end her life first.

As the woman falls out of his line of attack, War shifts his aim. The Beasts shift their target too, sensing he is more of a threat to their existence than the witch on the ground. The pack flows towards him. He floors three more before they realise the error of their strategy and split up. But but then there are only five left, and he has five rounds.

The creatures close in on him. He takes each shot with a careful deliberation. The hounds fall in mid stride as the enchanted rounds strip the life out of them. He feels nothing as the twisted forms collapse, just an echo in his memory of Emrys words 'Decisive actions when such actions are needed'. Some where inside is the vague memory that these creatures were once the men he met in the stable, but it is all too easy to ignore that. Norths pet assassin. Some days it is far to accurate a name.

The woman on the ground hears a rapid succession of booms, then silence. She looks up slowly. The slave is standing there. The weapon is still in his hand. He lowers it as his gaze systematically drifts over the fallen, checking for any sign of life before reaching hers. She expect him to lift the weapon again and end her. But he just turns and walks back towards the building.