The Hunting of the Snark
In which the intrepid heroes of Lucretia, Molly, Quina, Roxiel, Theo, Valentine, and the Mandrake Eighth Hussars go hunting for the black beast loosed upon Mandrake's lands.
The road eventually leads to a sizable homestead where new-looking farmhouses and barns have been erected. A palisade of logs with the top ends sharpened to stakes has been erected around the largest of the farmhouses, and from the upper windows, curtains twitch aside before falling into place. The gate is dragged open from the inside, and a knot of farmers carrying scythes and pitchforks and wearing long knives step out with the oldest of them a bit ahead.
Roxiel murmers to Molly, but with the horse-distance can still be overheard. "I love a parade, don't you?"
Valentine stows his sketching away as more spectators appear, sitting up straight in the saddle, and looking entirely unlike the Mandrakes ahead of him. It's probably something to do with the complete lack of armor.
Molly replies quietly to Roxiel, "Watching them? Certainly. Being a part of one? Not really. I'm just glad all they're looking at are the ones in the pretty pretty armor."
Lucretia draws her horse to a halt, nodding to the group of farmers. "We've come to render assistance in dealing with the beast," she tells them. "I am Duchess Lucretia de'Mandrake. These are my people." A sweeping gesture of an arm suggests Molly and Roxiel have at least temporarily been lumped in with 'her people'. "Tell us what you know of the beast."
Roxiel has that whole 'shrouded face' hooded thing going on as she listens.
The farmers look at one another and there's a certain amount of shuffling; then the eldest greybeard among them steps forward, bowing a bit awkwardly. "Your Grace." His eyes skew past her at the others, especially at the heavily armed and armoured men. "We've been facing attacks every night for a sennight. Before that it was only once every three, mebbe four days to a week. The fencing's helped," he nods to the sharpened stakes, "but it means we've only lost three cows this week instead o' half a herd." He looks impassively at the group. "If you-alls have questions, we'll do our best to answer, but the beast's beyond our ken to catch or kill."
Molly leans forward to listen to the answer the farmers give. Her horse snorts and shakes its head at that, so she straightens, then leans over sideways to listen. She immediately asks the farmer, "Does it attack at a specific time each night, can you predict when it will strike? Does it come from a specific direction?" She straightens and ducks her head, looking sheepish. "I'm sorry, probably not my place to blurt out like that."
Lucretia tells Molly, "Nonsense. If you don't ask, you'll never learn. I'd rather you ask - and besides, they're good questions." She looks interrogatively at the farmers.
Valentine surveys the surroundings, and whistles very quietly as he waits for a convenient monster sighting.
"'Tween dusk and the setting of the moon," one of the farmers volunteers. "Seems to like the half-light hours." The other farmers nod agreement. "No way of knowing when it'll strike, except the animals seem to pick up on its coming. They get nervous, like as if 'fore a storm or fire. Doesn't seem afrighted of people - Old Jenks is still raving abed from where it mauled 'im. Sommat from the Keep's be down to tend him tomorrow, they say. It got his daughter, though."
Roxiel asks, "Any reliable reports on size and nature of the beast? Feline, cainine, serpent?"
The farmers shift, shrugging as they look back and forth. There seems some dissension in the ranks as to the answer to Roxiel's question. Some seem to think it is a gigantic wolf; others argue that it is some sort of snake. Still others argue that it's both. All agree, though, that it comes from the hills to the west of the settlement.
Lucretia looks to the others. "To the hills it is. Anyone have more questions?"
Theophrastus frowns. "Not too deep in the hills, I hope."
Roxiel shakes her head, throws her cloak over one shoulder to reveal part of a pack, and a quiver. No bow seems about.
Valentine shakes his head. "Not unless someone can tell me of the secret weak spot I should aim for."
Molly shakes her head, "Not from me. Reckon we'll find out any answers soon enough."
Lucretia says practically, "It has to come out of the hills to get here, and this seems its preferred hunting spot. If we take up a roaming guard on the settlement, we should be able to intercept it when it comes to hunt. Better for the horses, anyway."
Theophrastus nods to Lucretia, and turns to look at the horseman nearest him. "You heard the Duchess," he says, and the order passes through the ranks. A score of horses peel off, and begin an expanding circle around the homestead.
Lucretia nudges her gelding forward, taking up a watch position in the lengthening shadows. She looks round, then up at the sky, which has deepened to violet.
Valentine asks quietly as he follows Lucretia's horse, "Are we aiming to bait it out, or to hide our presence from it until it arrives?"
Lucretia tells Valentine, "Oh, that's a good idea. We probably should have hidden, but if it is any sort of dog, it'll smell us, and if it's a snake, well... they hear by vibrations, don't they?" She frowns. "Hmm."
Valentine suggests in good cheer, "Set someone helpless-smelling a good distance out from the rest of the troops, and hope it takes the bait?"
Roxiel says, "Well, Doc, you are the one without armor. The appetizer, as it were."
Lucretia beams at her cousin. "Congratulations! You've just volunteered. Don't worry. If you get injured, we'll find someone to cover your shifts."
Molly leans forward to sniff curiously at Valentine. "Hmm. Never smelled helpless before. It's quite like fresh linen actually."
Valentine chuckles, and pats his horse on the neck. "Do I bring along Sparky here, or is it just me and my quick feet standing alone on a hilltop looking hapless?"
Roxiel says, "Moo alot." Aside, to Molly, "You know...we're sending the medic into harm's way."
"I'd say bring the horse," Lucretia recommends. "They're saying it's been going after livestock anyway - and you've a better chance of getting away on horseback. Just, er. Be prepared to move really fast when the time comes. Don't want you getting speared with the monster."
Valentine nudges his horse into motion, moving away from the rest. "Come on, Sparky. I hope you don't take it personally that if we're attacked by something spitting acid, I'm letting you go down before I do." He turns in his saddle to aim a cheerful wave behind him. "I'll send up a flare when I see anything. Or, you know, if I'm being shredded by a hideous beast from some unholy shadow."
Roxiel sighs winsomely. "My hero." It may be hard to tell if she is joking or not.
Molly waves cheerfully at Valentine. "We'll try not to let you get too nibbled!" She leans over to Roxiel. "We've got another medic. Lucy's a doc, Ain'tcha, Doc?"
Valentine whistles as he rides away. It's that dirge again.
There is for a time no sign of anything out of the ordinary, as the sun finishes setting. A sliver of moon rises up after a time, the stars lighting the earth in patchwork poor fashion through the scattering of cloud cover. "I am," Lucretia agrees cheerfully. "So's Theo. We're Mandrakes."
Roxiel leans over to whisper at Molly. "That means they're all doctors, then?"
Theophrastus says, "I'm a terrible doctor."
After a time, the horses begin to get edgy and nervous. From the hills, there's the mournful howling screech of something that sounds like a cross between a wolf and a bat; it is a carrying sound, harsh and echoing.
Valentine pats his horse idly, and keeps up the quiet whistling off where he's waiting alone. He's moved on from the dirge to drinking songs.
Roxiel reaches behind her and pulls out a contraption that looks like a very very large pair of tweezers. Click flip fwoop, and she has a metal bow with what appear to be a half dozen turnip twaddlers along the top half.
Molly shivers a bit at the awful sounds. She pulls a shining metal pistol-like weapon out of her pocket, then starts to button her coat closed, cinching its armored folds all the way around her torso.
Theophrastus keeps his hands on the pommel of his saddle - the observant eye may notice that he has no reins, nor is the horse wearing a bit and bridle. The horsemen look somewhat nervous, but hold their discipline.
From the dry hills, scorched from the end of summer before the beginning of the rains, there rises a cloud of dust. It is dimly visible in the gloom, and a low whistle comes from one side. The clouds roll back, and in that moment, the thing reaches the low hill on which Valentine sits astride his horse. It screeches its hunger as it races up the hill with ridiculous speed, then as it hits a hummock of dry grass, it leaps into the air...
The Black Beast! It stands eight feet at the shoulder and nearly twist that in length. Its fur is matted and tangled with dried blood, and it has the muzzle of a wolf, slavering jaws lined with yellowed teeth. A fetid stench rolls off of the creature, and it drips with some sort of foul dark ichor. It has the massive torso and front paws of a bear, tipped with the eternally extended claws. They are black and polished as if freshly sharpened. Its hind legs and claws are that of a catamount, the tail long and whip-like. But perhaps most horrible of all are its eyes - dozens of shiny black eyes, like that of a tarantula's, set into a domelike skull...
Roxiel's jaw sets. She pulls an arrow from the quiver with that save spiral serrated edge that adorns the bow, and pulls back.......
Valentine's eyebrows go up at the sight. He opens a hand, and bolt of bright green light shoots up into the sky to light up the position blatantly. "Bad dog," he says, and kicks his horse to bolt away as fast as it very well can. The slight flaw in this plan turns out to be not in the horse's speed, but his own ability to stay in the saddle when Sparky rears in an utter frenzy of terror and bolts away without the Mandrake attached.
Molly squints at the sudden green light, and her eyes narrow more when she sees Valentine fall. She raises her storm pistol and tries to track the dark, quick bulk of the Beast, while shouting, "Tine's gone down!"
The creature tears after the horse, which bolts for the nearest safety at hand - which is the settlement. There is another unearthly screech as it LEAPS again - and the view from beneath reveals that its belly is covered with what look like gaping wounds that do not bleed but instead move of their own accord. In the dim light, it becomes then apparent; they are not wounds. They are mouths. And it crashes down upon the bolting horse, which screams in agonizing pain as those mouths bear down and begin to feed. Its head twists, and the wolf-like muzzle rips the horse's throat out, screaming becoming a gurgle.
Roxiel leats her arrow fly. There is a slight whistling keening as it streaks towards the target.
Roxiel's arrow flies straight and true...then arcs and veers straight for the eyes. Arrows aughtn't do that...as is shown by the arrow nicking an ear instead.
Valentine rolls back to his feet, and says, "Oh /no/ you don't," scrambling after the beast with his sword drawn. He waves more green lights up into the air to illuminate his target, and goes poking in with the rapier, dodging about behind the creature's backside.
Theophrastus gestures, and lines of horsemen begin sweeping in arcs, circling the beast. They can't charge with Valentine to close, but they can certainly try to prevent any escape.
Lucretia narrows her eyes. "Fascinating," she breathes. She jars herself out of anatomical study, instead drawing a weapon from inside her cloak and taking aim with great care.
Molly discharges her pistol in a flurry of disgust at the creature, aiming towards its eyes, or some of them at least. A flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder arcs out from her weapon towards the Beast's head.
The beast recoils from the dual assault of both lightning blast and foil, screeching in infuriated pain. It rears back onto all fours - no doubt what causes Roxiel's and Lucretia's attempts to graze instead of penetrate, then shoves itself forward, aiming a violent paw at the nearest of the riders sweeping past in an effort to dislodge the barricade of horseflesh and riders. Its tail lashes violently, leaving craters in the dust wherever it hits and putting Valentine in danger of a lashing.
Theophrastus watches the battle, patting his horse's shoulder unconsciously. The hussars trot away from the beast's swipes, using their lances to goad and harass the beast, unable to find a clear killing shot.
Lucretia falls back a pace, swearing under her breath as she takes aim again.
Valentine dashes to the side, the tail slapping across his arm and through the sleeve of his jacket to leave a bloody trace there. With a short, sharp curse in a Cibolan dialect, he leaves off poking about with a rapier and dashes for the presumed safety of a place behind the hussars.
Molly glares down at her spent pistol, and one hand tears at the buttons of her coat as she reaches in, cursing and trying to reach her other pistol before Valentine gets horribly devoured.
Roxiel's shot again goes wide of the mark, skidding into the dirt as the woman hastens to reload; meanwhile, Lucretia's taken aim for one of the myriad spider-eyes of the thing. There's a hellish scream from it and it makes a sudden leap, straight up and forward, attempting to leap /over/ the circling Hussars.
Beneath him, Theo's mare stands tall and straight. When the creature tries to leap the Hussars, her muscles tense, ready to move. She's deep brown save a white star on her forehead, and her build and musculature mark her (for those familiar with horses) as an incredible runner.
The lancers appear to have been waiting for just such an opening, and as the belly-mouths are exposed in the leap, they lift their lances up, spearing towards the vulnerable underside. A few score, and the rest wheel their mounts around to prepare for pursuit. Theo, too, lifts a bit out of the saddle, drawing his sword and ready to gallop.
Molly finally yanks her last pistol from her coat and raises to aim, gritting her teeth and growling low in her throat as she tries to take aim on the leaping creature.
The creature lands, dripping black ichor from where the lancers have scored their hits. It is obviously badly wounded, but it seems angry rather than ready to flee - and worse, it is not on the other side of the line of Hussars and charging towards the knot of women. Valentine /was/ safely behind the Hussars; now he's on the same side of the Hussars as the creature, thanks to its jump. It bellows a harsh screeching cry as it rears back on its hind legs, the many mouths on its belly and torso wriggling and protruding with obscene gelatinous hunger. A spot in the center of its chest throbs, glowing an unearthly, sickly amber-yellow.
You paged (Molly, Quina) with 'The women in the group hear, somehow, the sound of wretched sobbing. "Please... mama, I wasn't bad, was I? Why did you leave me in the dark? Mama, please..." It's a young boy or girl.'.
Theophrastus watches the beast land, and returns his sword to its sheath. Instead, a white flame creeps into his hand, and lengthens into a searing lance. He leans forward to whisper to his mount.
As Theo whispers, Quina springs forward. She's faster than any horse has a right to be, and charges towards the creature.
You paged Molly with 'The voice is joined by another. "It hurts, it hurts," a girl whimpers. "Oh, gods, it hurts so much..." A man is howling in agony, wordlessly, shrieking over and over again, in that gut-wrenching way which makes the lizard part of the brain react. A woman is weeping, agonizingly.'.
Valentine says pleasantly, "Now that's just not fair with the jumping," and ducks around the creature's raised front legs to shove his rapier deep into that yellow spot.
Lucretia has backed up several steps, but she holds her stance firmly. As the creature is charging for her, Roxiel and Molly, she lifts her weapon again - only to find it's not responding. She swears under her breath.
Theophrastus braces in the saddle as Quina puts on speed, keeping his burning lance as clear as he can of her mane and neck. He yells out, a primordial bellow of challenge as he lowers the point to the beast.
Molly suddenly shakes her head and her pistol wavers and drops, completely losing track of the Beast as she looks around. She suddenly rubs at her forehead with the back of her hand, then jerks her head back up, looking all around her and ignoring the beast. "Wait! Something's not right. Where /are/ they?"
Despite the appearance of the creature, Quina never slows or wavers in her charge towards it. She clearly intends to take Theo straight at it for his strike. Head down, her pace stays steady and her gait is perfectly smooth.
The beast screeches as Valentine's rapier sinks into that spot. The spot tears open, gushing yellow venom that sprays everywhere, and it backs away, looking unhealthy. (Not that it was winning any lollipops at the doctor's office anyway.) It swipes for whoever's closest, looking maddened, presenting Theo with a brilliant shot at its back and side.
Theophrastus's lance hits the beast's flank, with the eye-searing heat of the flame and the juggernaut of Quina's mass and speed behind it. He takes a spray of ichor for his trouble, but pays it no heed, even as it begins its work.
Quina's eyes have to close when the ichor sprays towards her, and though she does get hit with some of it she doesn't stop moving. She does have to shake her head a bit, though. Meanwhile, Theo strikes and she immediately moves to carry him past the thing.
Roxiel has nocked another arrow, looking intent and grouchy. She lets off another arrow, which buries itself into the creature's hide deeply, giving it one more thing to protest against. It screams again, flailing in an attempt to smack Theo off of his mount - er, wife. Er. Mount.
The creature is looking quite badly hurt now. It flails, claws biting into the dusty earth, mighty muscles tensing in preparation for another leap.
Valentine retreats hastily from the venom gush, closing his still good eye against a chance at becoming much less functional. He shouts irritably at the creature in Cibolan, and does not slow down in the backing up to try for more stabbing.
Theophrastus ducks a swipe, until Quina can carry him away and turn for another charge. The lance burns bright in his hand, as he wipes the ichor away, breathing deep and deliberate. He growls deep in his chest, looking at the yellow stain on his fingers.
Molly nearly slides down off of her horse, but finally decides better of it. She's still looking around, though, paying little attention to the actual fight, and looking pained and fierce. She tries to shake it off, and raises her pistol to the beast again. But pauses, uncertain.
Lucretia fiddles with her weapon, shoving it away and drawing her sword. She doesn't seem afraid so much as aggravated, sword now lifted in preparation for offense or defense as might be needed.
Quina continues past, going far enough to make for a decent charge, then turns to prepare for her next pass. Her lips move a bit.
Theophrastus sets the lance again as Quina turns. He says a single word, quiet.
You paged Molly with 'The voices have by now commingled in your mind to a single, wordless shriek of pain and rage and fear and fury.'.
Valentine digs hastily through his satchel for something to get the venom /off/ him, backing up away from the fight in hopes of not being leapt upon.
As soon as she's ready, Quina leaps into another charge towards the creature. Despite being a horse, her expression is intently focused on what she's doing.
Molly reaches up to rub at her face to find tracks of tears have appeared there. This time she does slide down from her mount in something more akin to a controled tumble than a proper dismount. She looks up, weeping and keening in anguish and frustrated anger. She looks around, raising her pistol, and it doesn't aim towards the beast, it goes from person to person in the group, as if looking for something or someone.
Lucretia slides down off her horse's neck, lifting her sword in a gesture of defiance, lips curved in feral, savage smile. She charges forward...
Roxiel loads her last arrow, swearing quietly. She looses the arrow, which curves insanely inwards, penetrating into the thing's hide at about the same time as Theo's charge reaches home.
Theophrastus hits the beast in the chest, and kicks himself free of his stirrups at the moment of impact. He leaps up, using the lance like a vaulting pole, and turns the thing on its side with the torque. He hangs in the air for a moment, balanced at the end of the pillar of fire, and then drives it down into the beast's body, until his booted feet land on its flesh.
Quina is turning almost the moment Theo is off her, showing also more movement control than a horse should have, to put herself between the creature and anyone else unfortunate enough to be in the likely spray pattern.
The beast howls, a long, lingering gurgle. Ichor spurts, and the thing collapses. The mouths yawn open, and from the multitude of maws there is disgorged opaque, almost translucent ... things, egglike but more flexible, by the dozen. There is a suggestion of vague, fretful motion from within the 'eggs' as they land with wet splats on the grass.
Valentine digs through his satchel with a snarl of rage, and then drops it to the ground with a kick. He spins back towards the sound of the beast's collapse, his rapier drawn--and his eyes still closed, face dripping with venom.
Theophrastus watches the eggs spurt forth. "Don't lose them!" he yells, loud enough to carry.
The eggs writhe, secreting some sickly yellow-green goo; where the goo lands, there is an acid hiss from the ground beneath them as they begin to sink into the earth.
Theophrastus yanks the lance free from the beast's corpse, shortening it to a spear, and hopping down to start stabbing eggs.
Quina is pretty well sprayed with ichor, having been right there for it. She stumbles some, obviously having a hard time keeping her feet under her and not being entirely successful at it. Her legs keep buckling and she has to catch herself.
Lucretia rushes forward to help with the stabbing, bringing her sword up in both hands. She is paying little attention to anything but the eggs.
Molly goes from person to person, panicked and grief-stricken, crying, "Not the one. Where are they? There's no time!" She's waving the still-chared pistol around in an unseemly irresponsible manner. She starts to head towards some of the Hussars, still looking for the right target. The eggs are apparently also 'not the ones' as she's paying them no mind.
It's only then, while focused on just managing to keep standing, that Quina notes Molly's words and behavior. Her neck turns that way, followed awkwardly by her body as she slowly tries to walk towards the woman. There's a loud neigh, trying to draw other attention over.
Theophrastus tracks the hissing and smoking, stabbing his spear down into the slowly forming holes to burst the eggs inside them. He hasn't noticed Quina. Some of the hussars have come in close as well, using their lances to probe the ground, and a few have dismounted to approach Molly. Carefully, like you do when someone's waving a gunlike thing around.
Valentine points to somewhere with his rapier, blindly in a quite literal sense. "What's it /doing/?" he demands, and continues with a jittery string of questions in Cibolan.
Roxiel has by now dismounted and is helping with stabbing eggs. She's cursing quietly in some other language, presumably Alhambran.
Molly rubs at her head again. She's growing more and more frustrated, as the men approaching her have not seemed to match to her Template of Death. She starts shouting, "Where are they? Why aren't they here?" In a fit of flailing her pistol goes off, hitting nothing but the ground. And a couple of the horrible egglike things. "Oh, blast it to hell," she screams, and collapses in a weeping mess.
The eggs, when popped, stop sinking. They also stop wriggling. The only sounds are the horses' stamping hooves, the heavy breathing of the combatants, cursing from various angles in various languages, and the weeping of a woman.
The road eventually leads to a sizable homestead where new-looking farmhouses and barns have been erected. A palisade of logs with the top ends sharpened to stakes has been erected around the largest of the farmhouses, and from the upper windows, curtains twitch aside before falling into place. The gate is dragged open from the inside, and a knot of farmers carrying scythes and pitchforks and wearing long knives step out with the oldest of them a bit ahead.
Roxiel murmers to Molly, but with the horse-distance can still be overheard. "I love a parade, don't you?"
Valentine stows his sketching away as more spectators appear, sitting up straight in the saddle, and looking entirely unlike the Mandrakes ahead of him. It's probably something to do with the complete lack of armor.
Molly replies quietly to Roxiel, "Watching them? Certainly. Being a part of one? Not really. I'm just glad all they're looking at are the ones in the pretty pretty armor."
Lucretia draws her horse to a halt, nodding to the group of farmers. "We've come to render assistance in dealing with the beast," she tells them. "I am Duchess Lucretia de'Mandrake. These are my people." A sweeping gesture of an arm suggests Molly and Roxiel have at least temporarily been lumped in with 'her people'. "Tell us what you know of the beast."
Roxiel has that whole 'shrouded face' hooded thing going on as she listens.
The farmers look at one another and there's a certain amount of shuffling; then the eldest greybeard among them steps forward, bowing a bit awkwardly. "Your Grace." His eyes skew past her at the others, especially at the heavily armed and armoured men. "We've been facing attacks every night for a sennight. Before that it was only once every three, mebbe four days to a week. The fencing's helped," he nods to the sharpened stakes, "but it means we've only lost three cows this week instead o' half a herd." He looks impassively at the group. "If you-alls have questions, we'll do our best to answer, but the beast's beyond our ken to catch or kill."
Molly leans forward to listen to the answer the farmers give. Her horse snorts and shakes its head at that, so she straightens, then leans over sideways to listen. She immediately asks the farmer, "Does it attack at a specific time each night, can you predict when it will strike? Does it come from a specific direction?" She straightens and ducks her head, looking sheepish. "I'm sorry, probably not my place to blurt out like that."
Lucretia tells Molly, "Nonsense. If you don't ask, you'll never learn. I'd rather you ask - and besides, they're good questions." She looks interrogatively at the farmers.
Valentine surveys the surroundings, and whistles very quietly as he waits for a convenient monster sighting.
"'Tween dusk and the setting of the moon," one of the farmers volunteers. "Seems to like the half-light hours." The other farmers nod agreement. "No way of knowing when it'll strike, except the animals seem to pick up on its coming. They get nervous, like as if 'fore a storm or fire. Doesn't seem afrighted of people - Old Jenks is still raving abed from where it mauled 'im. Sommat from the Keep's be down to tend him tomorrow, they say. It got his daughter, though."
Roxiel asks, "Any reliable reports on size and nature of the beast? Feline, cainine, serpent?"
The farmers shift, shrugging as they look back and forth. There seems some dissension in the ranks as to the answer to Roxiel's question. Some seem to think it is a gigantic wolf; others argue that it is some sort of snake. Still others argue that it's both. All agree, though, that it comes from the hills to the west of the settlement.
Lucretia looks to the others. "To the hills it is. Anyone have more questions?"
Theophrastus frowns. "Not too deep in the hills, I hope."
Roxiel shakes her head, throws her cloak over one shoulder to reveal part of a pack, and a quiver. No bow seems about.
Valentine shakes his head. "Not unless someone can tell me of the secret weak spot I should aim for."
Molly shakes her head, "Not from me. Reckon we'll find out any answers soon enough."
Lucretia says practically, "It has to come out of the hills to get here, and this seems its preferred hunting spot. If we take up a roaming guard on the settlement, we should be able to intercept it when it comes to hunt. Better for the horses, anyway."
Theophrastus nods to Lucretia, and turns to look at the horseman nearest him. "You heard the Duchess," he says, and the order passes through the ranks. A score of horses peel off, and begin an expanding circle around the homestead.
Lucretia nudges her gelding forward, taking up a watch position in the lengthening shadows. She looks round, then up at the sky, which has deepened to violet.
Valentine asks quietly as he follows Lucretia's horse, "Are we aiming to bait it out, or to hide our presence from it until it arrives?"
Lucretia tells Valentine, "Oh, that's a good idea. We probably should have hidden, but if it is any sort of dog, it'll smell us, and if it's a snake, well... they hear by vibrations, don't they?" She frowns. "Hmm."
Valentine suggests in good cheer, "Set someone helpless-smelling a good distance out from the rest of the troops, and hope it takes the bait?"
Roxiel says, "Well, Doc, you are the one without armor. The appetizer, as it were."
Lucretia beams at her cousin. "Congratulations! You've just volunteered. Don't worry. If you get injured, we'll find someone to cover your shifts."
Molly leans forward to sniff curiously at Valentine. "Hmm. Never smelled helpless before. It's quite like fresh linen actually."
Valentine chuckles, and pats his horse on the neck. "Do I bring along Sparky here, or is it just me and my quick feet standing alone on a hilltop looking hapless?"
Roxiel says, "Moo alot." Aside, to Molly, "You know...we're sending the medic into harm's way."
"I'd say bring the horse," Lucretia recommends. "They're saying it's been going after livestock anyway - and you've a better chance of getting away on horseback. Just, er. Be prepared to move really fast when the time comes. Don't want you getting speared with the monster."
Valentine nudges his horse into motion, moving away from the rest. "Come on, Sparky. I hope you don't take it personally that if we're attacked by something spitting acid, I'm letting you go down before I do." He turns in his saddle to aim a cheerful wave behind him. "I'll send up a flare when I see anything. Or, you know, if I'm being shredded by a hideous beast from some unholy shadow."
Roxiel sighs winsomely. "My hero." It may be hard to tell if she is joking or not.
Molly waves cheerfully at Valentine. "We'll try not to let you get too nibbled!" She leans over to Roxiel. "We've got another medic. Lucy's a doc, Ain'tcha, Doc?"
Valentine whistles as he rides away. It's that dirge again.
There is for a time no sign of anything out of the ordinary, as the sun finishes setting. A sliver of moon rises up after a time, the stars lighting the earth in patchwork poor fashion through the scattering of cloud cover. "I am," Lucretia agrees cheerfully. "So's Theo. We're Mandrakes."
Roxiel leans over to whisper at Molly. "That means they're all doctors, then?"
Theophrastus says, "I'm a terrible doctor."
After a time, the horses begin to get edgy and nervous. From the hills, there's the mournful howling screech of something that sounds like a cross between a wolf and a bat; it is a carrying sound, harsh and echoing.
Valentine pats his horse idly, and keeps up the quiet whistling off where he's waiting alone. He's moved on from the dirge to drinking songs.
Roxiel reaches behind her and pulls out a contraption that looks like a very very large pair of tweezers. Click flip fwoop, and she has a metal bow with what appear to be a half dozen turnip twaddlers along the top half.
Molly shivers a bit at the awful sounds. She pulls a shining metal pistol-like weapon out of her pocket, then starts to button her coat closed, cinching its armored folds all the way around her torso.
Theophrastus keeps his hands on the pommel of his saddle - the observant eye may notice that he has no reins, nor is the horse wearing a bit and bridle. The horsemen look somewhat nervous, but hold their discipline.
From the dry hills, scorched from the end of summer before the beginning of the rains, there rises a cloud of dust. It is dimly visible in the gloom, and a low whistle comes from one side. The clouds roll back, and in that moment, the thing reaches the low hill on which Valentine sits astride his horse. It screeches its hunger as it races up the hill with ridiculous speed, then as it hits a hummock of dry grass, it leaps into the air...
The Black Beast! It stands eight feet at the shoulder and nearly twist that in length. Its fur is matted and tangled with dried blood, and it has the muzzle of a wolf, slavering jaws lined with yellowed teeth. A fetid stench rolls off of the creature, and it drips with some sort of foul dark ichor. It has the massive torso and front paws of a bear, tipped with the eternally extended claws. They are black and polished as if freshly sharpened. Its hind legs and claws are that of a catamount, the tail long and whip-like. But perhaps most horrible of all are its eyes - dozens of shiny black eyes, like that of a tarantula's, set into a domelike skull...
Roxiel's jaw sets. She pulls an arrow from the quiver with that save spiral serrated edge that adorns the bow, and pulls back.......
Valentine's eyebrows go up at the sight. He opens a hand, and bolt of bright green light shoots up into the sky to light up the position blatantly. "Bad dog," he says, and kicks his horse to bolt away as fast as it very well can. The slight flaw in this plan turns out to be not in the horse's speed, but his own ability to stay in the saddle when Sparky rears in an utter frenzy of terror and bolts away without the Mandrake attached.
Molly squints at the sudden green light, and her eyes narrow more when she sees Valentine fall. She raises her storm pistol and tries to track the dark, quick bulk of the Beast, while shouting, "Tine's gone down!"
The creature tears after the horse, which bolts for the nearest safety at hand - which is the settlement. There is another unearthly screech as it LEAPS again - and the view from beneath reveals that its belly is covered with what look like gaping wounds that do not bleed but instead move of their own accord. In the dim light, it becomes then apparent; they are not wounds. They are mouths. And it crashes down upon the bolting horse, which screams in agonizing pain as those mouths bear down and begin to feed. Its head twists, and the wolf-like muzzle rips the horse's throat out, screaming becoming a gurgle.
Roxiel leats her arrow fly. There is a slight whistling keening as it streaks towards the target.
Roxiel's arrow flies straight and true...then arcs and veers straight for the eyes. Arrows aughtn't do that...as is shown by the arrow nicking an ear instead.
Valentine rolls back to his feet, and says, "Oh /no/ you don't," scrambling after the beast with his sword drawn. He waves more green lights up into the air to illuminate his target, and goes poking in with the rapier, dodging about behind the creature's backside.
Theophrastus gestures, and lines of horsemen begin sweeping in arcs, circling the beast. They can't charge with Valentine to close, but they can certainly try to prevent any escape.
Lucretia narrows her eyes. "Fascinating," she breathes. She jars herself out of anatomical study, instead drawing a weapon from inside her cloak and taking aim with great care.
Molly discharges her pistol in a flurry of disgust at the creature, aiming towards its eyes, or some of them at least. A flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder arcs out from her weapon towards the Beast's head.
The beast recoils from the dual assault of both lightning blast and foil, screeching in infuriated pain. It rears back onto all fours - no doubt what causes Roxiel's and Lucretia's attempts to graze instead of penetrate, then shoves itself forward, aiming a violent paw at the nearest of the riders sweeping past in an effort to dislodge the barricade of horseflesh and riders. Its tail lashes violently, leaving craters in the dust wherever it hits and putting Valentine in danger of a lashing.
Theophrastus watches the battle, patting his horse's shoulder unconsciously. The hussars trot away from the beast's swipes, using their lances to goad and harass the beast, unable to find a clear killing shot.
Lucretia falls back a pace, swearing under her breath as she takes aim again.
Valentine dashes to the side, the tail slapping across his arm and through the sleeve of his jacket to leave a bloody trace there. With a short, sharp curse in a Cibolan dialect, he leaves off poking about with a rapier and dashes for the presumed safety of a place behind the hussars.
Molly glares down at her spent pistol, and one hand tears at the buttons of her coat as she reaches in, cursing and trying to reach her other pistol before Valentine gets horribly devoured.
Roxiel's shot again goes wide of the mark, skidding into the dirt as the woman hastens to reload; meanwhile, Lucretia's taken aim for one of the myriad spider-eyes of the thing. There's a hellish scream from it and it makes a sudden leap, straight up and forward, attempting to leap /over/ the circling Hussars.
Beneath him, Theo's mare stands tall and straight. When the creature tries to leap the Hussars, her muscles tense, ready to move. She's deep brown save a white star on her forehead, and her build and musculature mark her (for those familiar with horses) as an incredible runner.
The lancers appear to have been waiting for just such an opening, and as the belly-mouths are exposed in the leap, they lift their lances up, spearing towards the vulnerable underside. A few score, and the rest wheel their mounts around to prepare for pursuit. Theo, too, lifts a bit out of the saddle, drawing his sword and ready to gallop.
Molly finally yanks her last pistol from her coat and raises to aim, gritting her teeth and growling low in her throat as she tries to take aim on the leaping creature.
The creature lands, dripping black ichor from where the lancers have scored their hits. It is obviously badly wounded, but it seems angry rather than ready to flee - and worse, it is not on the other side of the line of Hussars and charging towards the knot of women. Valentine /was/ safely behind the Hussars; now he's on the same side of the Hussars as the creature, thanks to its jump. It bellows a harsh screeching cry as it rears back on its hind legs, the many mouths on its belly and torso wriggling and protruding with obscene gelatinous hunger. A spot in the center of its chest throbs, glowing an unearthly, sickly amber-yellow.
You paged (Molly, Quina) with 'The women in the group hear, somehow, the sound of wretched sobbing. "Please... mama, I wasn't bad, was I? Why did you leave me in the dark? Mama, please..." It's a young boy or girl.'.
Theophrastus watches the beast land, and returns his sword to its sheath. Instead, a white flame creeps into his hand, and lengthens into a searing lance. He leans forward to whisper to his mount.
As Theo whispers, Quina springs forward. She's faster than any horse has a right to be, and charges towards the creature.
You paged Molly with 'The voice is joined by another. "It hurts, it hurts," a girl whimpers. "Oh, gods, it hurts so much..." A man is howling in agony, wordlessly, shrieking over and over again, in that gut-wrenching way which makes the lizard part of the brain react. A woman is weeping, agonizingly.'.
Valentine says pleasantly, "Now that's just not fair with the jumping," and ducks around the creature's raised front legs to shove his rapier deep into that yellow spot.
Lucretia has backed up several steps, but she holds her stance firmly. As the creature is charging for her, Roxiel and Molly, she lifts her weapon again - only to find it's not responding. She swears under her breath.
Theophrastus braces in the saddle as Quina puts on speed, keeping his burning lance as clear as he can of her mane and neck. He yells out, a primordial bellow of challenge as he lowers the point to the beast.
Molly suddenly shakes her head and her pistol wavers and drops, completely losing track of the Beast as she looks around. She suddenly rubs at her forehead with the back of her hand, then jerks her head back up, looking all around her and ignoring the beast. "Wait! Something's not right. Where /are/ they?"
Despite the appearance of the creature, Quina never slows or wavers in her charge towards it. She clearly intends to take Theo straight at it for his strike. Head down, her pace stays steady and her gait is perfectly smooth.
The beast screeches as Valentine's rapier sinks into that spot. The spot tears open, gushing yellow venom that sprays everywhere, and it backs away, looking unhealthy. (Not that it was winning any lollipops at the doctor's office anyway.) It swipes for whoever's closest, looking maddened, presenting Theo with a brilliant shot at its back and side.
Theophrastus's lance hits the beast's flank, with the eye-searing heat of the flame and the juggernaut of Quina's mass and speed behind it. He takes a spray of ichor for his trouble, but pays it no heed, even as it begins its work.
Quina's eyes have to close when the ichor sprays towards her, and though she does get hit with some of it she doesn't stop moving. She does have to shake her head a bit, though. Meanwhile, Theo strikes and she immediately moves to carry him past the thing.
Roxiel has nocked another arrow, looking intent and grouchy. She lets off another arrow, which buries itself into the creature's hide deeply, giving it one more thing to protest against. It screams again, flailing in an attempt to smack Theo off of his mount - er, wife. Er. Mount.
The creature is looking quite badly hurt now. It flails, claws biting into the dusty earth, mighty muscles tensing in preparation for another leap.
Valentine retreats hastily from the venom gush, closing his still good eye against a chance at becoming much less functional. He shouts irritably at the creature in Cibolan, and does not slow down in the backing up to try for more stabbing.
Theophrastus ducks a swipe, until Quina can carry him away and turn for another charge. The lance burns bright in his hand, as he wipes the ichor away, breathing deep and deliberate. He growls deep in his chest, looking at the yellow stain on his fingers.
Molly nearly slides down off of her horse, but finally decides better of it. She's still looking around, though, paying little attention to the actual fight, and looking pained and fierce. She tries to shake it off, and raises her pistol to the beast again. But pauses, uncertain.
Lucretia fiddles with her weapon, shoving it away and drawing her sword. She doesn't seem afraid so much as aggravated, sword now lifted in preparation for offense or defense as might be needed.
Quina continues past, going far enough to make for a decent charge, then turns to prepare for her next pass. Her lips move a bit.
Theophrastus sets the lance again as Quina turns. He says a single word, quiet.
You paged Molly with 'The voices have by now commingled in your mind to a single, wordless shriek of pain and rage and fear and fury.'.
Valentine digs hastily through his satchel for something to get the venom /off/ him, backing up away from the fight in hopes of not being leapt upon.
As soon as she's ready, Quina leaps into another charge towards the creature. Despite being a horse, her expression is intently focused on what she's doing.
Molly reaches up to rub at her face to find tracks of tears have appeared there. This time she does slide down from her mount in something more akin to a controled tumble than a proper dismount. She looks up, weeping and keening in anguish and frustrated anger. She looks around, raising her pistol, and it doesn't aim towards the beast, it goes from person to person in the group, as if looking for something or someone.
Lucretia slides down off her horse's neck, lifting her sword in a gesture of defiance, lips curved in feral, savage smile. She charges forward...
Roxiel loads her last arrow, swearing quietly. She looses the arrow, which curves insanely inwards, penetrating into the thing's hide at about the same time as Theo's charge reaches home.
Theophrastus hits the beast in the chest, and kicks himself free of his stirrups at the moment of impact. He leaps up, using the lance like a vaulting pole, and turns the thing on its side with the torque. He hangs in the air for a moment, balanced at the end of the pillar of fire, and then drives it down into the beast's body, until his booted feet land on its flesh.
Quina is turning almost the moment Theo is off her, showing also more movement control than a horse should have, to put herself between the creature and anyone else unfortunate enough to be in the likely spray pattern.
The beast howls, a long, lingering gurgle. Ichor spurts, and the thing collapses. The mouths yawn open, and from the multitude of maws there is disgorged opaque, almost translucent ... things, egglike but more flexible, by the dozen. There is a suggestion of vague, fretful motion from within the 'eggs' as they land with wet splats on the grass.
Valentine digs through his satchel with a snarl of rage, and then drops it to the ground with a kick. He spins back towards the sound of the beast's collapse, his rapier drawn--and his eyes still closed, face dripping with venom.
Theophrastus watches the eggs spurt forth. "Don't lose them!" he yells, loud enough to carry.
The eggs writhe, secreting some sickly yellow-green goo; where the goo lands, there is an acid hiss from the ground beneath them as they begin to sink into the earth.
Theophrastus yanks the lance free from the beast's corpse, shortening it to a spear, and hopping down to start stabbing eggs.
Quina is pretty well sprayed with ichor, having been right there for it. She stumbles some, obviously having a hard time keeping her feet under her and not being entirely successful at it. Her legs keep buckling and she has to catch herself.
Lucretia rushes forward to help with the stabbing, bringing her sword up in both hands. She is paying little attention to anything but the eggs.
Molly goes from person to person, panicked and grief-stricken, crying, "Not the one. Where are they? There's no time!" She's waving the still-chared pistol around in an unseemly irresponsible manner. She starts to head towards some of the Hussars, still looking for the right target. The eggs are apparently also 'not the ones' as she's paying them no mind.
It's only then, while focused on just managing to keep standing, that Quina notes Molly's words and behavior. Her neck turns that way, followed awkwardly by her body as she slowly tries to walk towards the woman. There's a loud neigh, trying to draw other attention over.
Theophrastus tracks the hissing and smoking, stabbing his spear down into the slowly forming holes to burst the eggs inside them. He hasn't noticed Quina. Some of the hussars have come in close as well, using their lances to probe the ground, and a few have dismounted to approach Molly. Carefully, like you do when someone's waving a gunlike thing around.
Valentine points to somewhere with his rapier, blindly in a quite literal sense. "What's it /doing/?" he demands, and continues with a jittery string of questions in Cibolan.
Roxiel has by now dismounted and is helping with stabbing eggs. She's cursing quietly in some other language, presumably Alhambran.
Molly rubs at her head again. She's growing more and more frustrated, as the men approaching her have not seemed to match to her Template of Death. She starts shouting, "Where are they? Why aren't they here?" In a fit of flailing her pistol goes off, hitting nothing but the ground. And a couple of the horrible egglike things. "Oh, blast it to hell," she screams, and collapses in a weeping mess.
The eggs, when popped, stop sinking. They also stop wriggling. The only sounds are the horses' stamping hooves, the heavy breathing of the combatants, cursing from various angles in various languages, and the weeping of a woman.