[Event] The Wild Hunt - The Stalk

THE WILD HUNT

THE STALK

Cetus's ever-present shroud of mist coiled thicker, swirling as though alive. To those who lived here, it would feel aware, somehow, as if the very swamp itself were awakening.

A Wild Hunt had careened through the caves. It had begun in Pegasus: a chase through the forest and fields, incorporeal prey shifting form as it fled the bestial Hounds and misshapen Hunters. Gembound had joined in, at the request of the Three Kings: a handful aiding the Quarry, a few others the Hunters, still others observing the chase. Both the Hunters and the neutral Observers had counted the most among them: the latter, those who watched perhaps dispassionately, content to allow the slaughter of the Quarry--or the lingering hunger of the Hunters--to play out on its own.... the former, those who would see the Quarry's slaughter aided by their own claws (or hooves).

Once out of Pegasus, they had vanished, as if into thin air... but the occasional wispy figure was visible, the rare twist of mist-shaped Hunter, that could lead the Gembound eventually to the Wild Hunt. To Cetus.

The Quarry crashed in through the tunnel entrance now, several days later: a cascading mass of mist, now a deer buck swift on the hoof, now a fat pheasant hurtling through the trees, wild-eyed with fear. Then it was a rabbit, going to ground among the thick roots and mud of Cetus-...

And no sooner was it out of sight than the Hunt poured in to follow. Formed of the same shifting mist, these Hunters--these massive Hounds, and the strange and sometimes skeletal fog-formed horses and their Huntsmen--only enhanced Cetus's chilling damp. Here they slowed, and lingered for a time, seemingly scanning the swamp for their prey: but they did not find it, and at a gesture from the leader of the Hunt, the Huntsman began to fan out, searching the dark, murky swamp for their prey.

_________

Gembound may choose to aid the Quarry in hiding and escaping, to aid the Huntsmen in tracking it down, or simply to Observe the hunt. This can be done in this thread, or in another thread, but if attempts are made in another thread their posts (with rolls or actions) must be linked back here (they can be edited into an IC departure post of this thread). (Any separate threads should be tagged [WH] and left AW.)

More information on the start of this event can be found here.

New characters may join at any time.

James hadn't been prepared for the sudden onslaught of kaiju that had joined the fray, and had bolted, taking flight and following the quarry on his sunset wings. He was fast, his feathers tapering into sharp tips, narrowing to give him speed.

He landed in Cetus eventually, having to take breaks every once in a while in order to eat and sleep, but he was here, rested and ready to go.

He folded his feathers in and used his brown and black colors to blend in to the best of his ability, following the wispy trail while also trying not to be seen. They were certainly not looking forward to the bloodbath that was to come. With the kaijus involved, this challenging game had turned into a war. He wasn't scared of Kitty or Madhukar, for with a simple spell he could just launch them into the air and be rid of them for a good ten minutes, but it was the massive size and the unpredictability of the newcomers that was concerning.

"Little one?", he asked softly, looking underneath his feathers to where he was cradling Talys in one of his wings, "How are you doing? Are you warm enough in there?"

James looked up again, ears perked, listening. He saw a flash of smoke and walked forward again, still following. He stopped and looked behind him, eyes narrowed. If he could distract the hunters and the hounds, and make them follow the wrong trail, then maybe they had a chance to win. There was no doubt the Chaos Forge were just following the hunters like he had the quarry. Hopefully he could get the color right...

He bit his lip as the wisp formed, and stamped a foot, ears pinning. No good, it wasn't even close to white. But he sent it off into the darkness anyway, just in case some idiot tried to follow.

The little bull calf came stumbling into Cetus a little after the hunt itself. He'd rested, but each time he'd slept he'd eventually seen the ghostly shapes sweeping by and his primitive, angry little mind had been triggered inton trying to kill fog again.

Now he stumbled in, panting, gangly limbs sinking in the black mud and pitching him forward on his face. He scrambled up and looked around, crimson eyes searching out his new mortal enemies. The Huntsmen were lingering just ahead, spreading out, searching, their skeletal and strange steeds sifting into the darkness of Cetus. Abaddon gave no bleating warning this time, instead shoving his thin two-hundred-pound frame for the nearest of the "horse's" haunches.

Little horn connected with nothing more than wispy fog, and--head dropping and jerking up over and over, tail switching behind him--he tried again and again to gore the air itself.

He swept more quietly into the swamp, no thunder of hooves as he'd been in Pegasus. Now he was cautious, a little weary from travel (though they'd had days to get here, all in all--it was still some distance).

Warrior didn't know Cetus. The sinking, sucking blackness of the mud, the rank stench of marsh, pulled at him. He was reminded at once of the Dead Marsh of Hydra, but darker, colder and thick with fog. He hoped that Cryogen was somewhere near, but ahead he could now make out the dim and shifting shapes of the Huntsmen.

He wasn't sure what to do about all of this. He only knew there was a hunt, and he wanted to aid the one chased, the one outnumbered. Prey creature instinct drove him in this, and he began to pick his way as quietly as a full-grown horse could through the wet, and around the edges of the hunters. Perhaps he could find the Quarry, and somehow aid it.

Magic swam up over him, reflecting dullness coating his fur, so that he suddenly seemed to be a mere glimpse of Cetus' swamp. With light this dim it wasn't hard to pull off near-invisibility: rather than pointed glares there was only featureless black-brown water, and tufts of reeds, that shifted a little eerily as he moved.