The Hunter
By Tom Molnar
Sweat glistened off his finely chiseled form as he twirls his blades through a complicated series of cuts and jabs. Naked to the waist, he continues through his graceful dance of death for many long minutes, reveling in the skill he has spent a lifetime learning. Before long he is left standing upon the forest floor panting heavily, his twin blades hanging limply at his sides, his hair and body drenched in sweat and a thin smile upon his face.
Rising to his full height, he stretches his sore muscles then makes his way over to where the rest of his gear is stored, picks up his sheathes and replaces his blades. Reaching into his pack he pulls forth a thick cloth and begins to dry the sweat from his brow. Glancing to his left he seems to notice the stream rushing past him for the first time, grins, then proceeds to walk towards it and immerses himself in its cool embrace. His lightly muscled body, clean of the sweat from his daily workout, he returns to his gear and grabs that thick cloth once more and proceeds to dry himself off. Grabbing a fresh set of clothing, he quickly dons it and replaces his twin blades to their rightful place. Sighing lightly, he lies down upon the ground and closes his eyes contently, opening his senses to the land around him.
A myriad of sounds wash over him as he fully opens to the forest around him; from the light rustle of the grass, to the cries of a hawk circling high in the sky. As he rests lightly upon the ground, absorbing the sounds about him, a light wind picks up from the west, drawing his attention that direction. His emerald flecked azure eyes snap open suddenly, though for what reason he is not sure yet. Something his acute awareness had picked up that his mind was not yet able to decipher pulled at him, drawing his attention fully to the West. Gathering his gear as quickly as possible and donning it, he began to make his was towards the West, in search of he knew not what. Moving through the forest as silently and quickly as a shadow, he soon begins to close in on the source of his uneasiness. Calling upon his innate ability, his body fades into the shadows, allowing him to get closer without being detected.
Within moments he espies his prey from afar and a low growl rumbles deep within his chest unconsciously. For, up ahead is a trio of Mori’Quessir…..dark elves. Mustering all the skill he has spent many long years developing, he crept to within hearing distance and settled in to listen to their conversation. Having spent many years learning their language from his father, which was a slightly harsher version of his own native tongue, he was fairly confident he would have no trouble understanding what was being said.
“…but these three must be stopped, or she will not be pleased. For far too long they have waged war on our kin, and with her emergence from the underdark, we will need to destroy them once and for all,” the first of the three spoke. He was a heavily armoured warrior bristling with numerous blades.
“Our patrols have been destroyed just as soon as they enter the forest. These three are relentless in their pursuit of us. Reports have even reached our ears that the fair-haired one has begun to wage a personal war with our slaves near the Trigilas Wastes,” said a rogue dressed in red and black leathers, with twin short swords and multiple daggers upon his person. His stark white hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and his face was set in a sneer at the thought of the three hunters that had so plagued their people.
The
third stood off to the side, silently absorbing all that was said. He is dressed in a well maintained suit of
leather, dyed a
“You will leave these three to me,” he said, now glaring intently at his companions. “I will ensure they are dealt with appropriately.”
Suddenly the fierce red eyes of the third member locked onto the general area of the Hunter, and remained there, searching for his elusive form. A sudden panic entered the Hunter’s eyes, as this obvious assassin before him must be great indeed to have seen him. Searching his options quickly, his first instinct was to head to the safety of Treetop, as it was nearby. He dismissed the thought quickly though, for fear of bringing unwanted death to those fair people, and instead resorted to the only other option available to him…to flee.
In the blink of an eye his body shimmered and was replaced by that of a great white wolf. His azure eyes met with those of the assassin for the briefest of moments, then he was off, speeding through the forest with the quickness and surety only one of the Fey could possess. Turning back once to check on his pursuers, he caught sight of the assassin holding back his comrades, a slight smirk on his dark features as he simply watched the Hunter race off to safety.
Before long he was once again within the safety of the family’s manor, panting heavily and thankful he was not pursued. A troubled look upon his face, he slumped in one of the chairs by the fire and sighed.
“Father must be warned of this new threat,” he said, staring hard into the fire.
“Fear not my son, for I am already here.”
A graceful figure seemed to step from the shadows before him, a warm smile upon his fair face. Piercing emerald green eyes greeted the Hunter warmly as he took the seat opposite from him.
“Come, tell me all that you have heard,” his father said, sighing heavily as he sat upon the chair. “It seems the Pack must prepare itself before they are ready. What news do you bring of our dark kin?”
Pulling back his hood to reveal a young, strong face, with eyes so like his father’s, he sighs and begins to recount the events in the forest, and to describe the assassin in great detail.
A feral growl issued forth from Tahlon as he absorbed this newest information. Resting his chin in his hand, he sat and stared into the fire for a long while, digesting what his son had overheard this day. After what seemed an eternity to the young Hunter, his father looked up into his emerald flecked azure eyes and appraised his son closely.
“No longer are you a child, my son, though I must admit that I am not yet ready to let you go completely. You are all that I have left of your mother, and as such are dearer to me than you can possibly imagine. This coming fight will test the limits of your skill, as well as those of all the Pack.” He sighs, a long troubled sigh and looks to the ground a moment before returning his gaze to his son and continues. “Rylikamin, I believe it is time for you to seek out the Hawk, my truest friend and brother. He will ensure that your training is completed, and that you are fully prepared to face the challenge now before you.”
Smiling, he watches his son closely, noting the strength in his young arms, and the intense fire burning behind his eyes. Standing slowly, reluctantly, he walks over and places a hand upon his son’s shoulder, looking deep into his eyes.
“Your mother would be so proud of you, Rylikamin, and quite happy for I know that you no longer walk alone,” he smiles with a knowing look upon his face, and those piercing emerald green eyes dancing with pride.
“You….know, father?”
“Aye, I have known since you sent her to the meeting bearing your note.” His smile is wide as he regards his son a moment. “Come, let us eat and drink, and you shall tell me all about her.”
Smiling brightly to one another, father and son head towards the kitchen to prepare an evening meal. Taking what they have gathered, they make their way to the basement and relax upon the comfortable, plush couches, while the Hunter tells his tale of the young Fey that has stolen his heart.