Witch Hunt

Its hands are bound with pitiful rope, dragged by the arms from blood bags either side. Curious. These paltry measures will not be enough. It is in darkness, the first mistake of the would-be hunters. It will ensure that it is their last.

There are three of them. A short one, an armored one, and a tall one. The armored one and tall one carry it like a doll down a quiet street, lights blessedly low. Perhaps they think they've caught themselves a prize. That only makes the coming slaughter all the more delicious. Pride goeth before the fall.

In a swift motion, it spins free of their grasp, wrenching from their grips with the strength of shadows, twisting tendrils of blackened enervation to lash the hunters. One tendrils cuts its bindings. Nothing will keep the monster chained.

"Ah, fuck, he's awake!", says the armored one. Along the streets, a handful of mortals scream, and flee in terror. A wise choice, but it will not save them from the slaughter. It begins to scan the crowd for easy pickings to fill its stomach.

"Wait!" The short one steps forward, eyes full of innocence, rubbing her arm where the darkness struck her. "Oscar...? Are you in there?" It tilts its head. This one knows its vessel? Then she dies first.

It lunges toward her, meeting with nothing but air as it passes through her form. It turns, confused. A trick... She hides herself, plays games of mind and magic. The beast must see with more than just its eyes. It sniffs the air, and plucks the short one's scent from afar, further down the road. Not clever enough, little one.

The beast bounds forward, asphalt slick with rain meeting its claws. The tall one and armored one move with alacrity, blocking its path. It skids to a stop, reassessing. The tall one tosses something through the rain to the short one, a flash of lined white. "Plan B, ladies. Firefly, shop's just down the block, get started. Stardust?" She turns to the armored one. "Let's kick his ass."

Behind her defenders, the short one turns and runs. Mortal fools, they are in its domain. It turns to pure shadow, darting through the darkness, past the two. It will have its prey-

"SOLUS LUXUM!", shouts the armored one.

A flash of blinding light strikes it with holy fury. It rages and writhes under the radiance. Its skin boils, its blood burns. Source-less sunlight hangs in the air and sears its eyes in punishment for daring to look. It claws desperately across the floor to get away.

"You're hurting him!", says one of the voices behind it.

"I dunno if you noticed, Allie, but he's trying to hurt us!" If it can just find a shadow...

"Non-lethals, Stardust. We're trying to cure him, not kill him." The beast feels baked and burned under the sudden sunlight.

"Fuck! Fine."

The light cuts out as quick as it came. A lesser predator would scamper, give up its hunt to recover from the prey's laid trap. It is no mere killer. It spins up to its feet, darting backwards through shadow to make space, and concentrates to heal its charred skin. The small one's scent is further now; too far to catch and too long with its back to the more dangerous prey. It looks to the tall one and armored one. They will have to be dispatched. Silenced.

The tall one says, "Good ol-fashioned fisticuffs never-" Her words are ripped from her throat, silencing darkness blanketed over the street from its magic. She grasps at her throat, lips moving without sound. Then, she puts a hand to her hip.

Why is she looking at it like that...?

It rushes forward to silence the woman with more than mere magic. Knives of shadow drip from its fingers, held outward to slash and maim. The two dart away from each other, creating space. Perfect. It rushes toward the tall one, swiping.

She is faster than it expected. She dodges to the side, and delivers a swift kick to the back of its head. It stumbles, dazed. The armored one darts forward, shield slamming into its midsection. The blow knocks it backwards, and as it struggles to maintain its balance, the silencing incantation slips its mind. The darkness lifts.

It may be no mere predator... but these are no easy prey. It has not yet had the pleasure of a challenging hunt. Its vacuous stomach aches to fill with their life ichor. All the sweeter for the struggle.

The tall one begins to back up, arms stuck out in a challenging pose. "Ah, c'mon Moodie. Don't you wanna complain? Buy up every ten-dollar word in the dictionary? Snark back at me that way nobody else quite does?"

She is a talker. The beast has no need for words, but it can spare just one for its prey. "NO." Her face drops.

"That's so much worse", the armored one says. She raises her shield again to repeat her slam. This time the beast is ready for her. It catches the shield with its hands, picks her up entire, spins to build momentum, and tosses the metal-covered woman into a parked carriage across the street. She crashes into the side, the door cracking inward, and she slumps over.

It turns to the other just in time to dodge an arrow meant for its side. The tall one has drawn a longbow, freshly loosed. She's made quite a bit of distance, and continues to do so. It must close the gap.

Once more, it turns to shadow, darting from pitch to pitch. The tall one observes it with a keen eye... and rushes laterally under a streetlight. She knocks and fires another shot toward the beast. It only barely dodges through blackness, and growls.

Behind it, the voice of the armored one shouts, "What happened to non-lethals?" She is already on her feet again. They are formidable as well as clever.

"Relative to a vampire, Dusty! Draw your sword!" The armored one does as the tall one commands.

They want to pull it into a melee and harry it from afar. A sound tactic. But it will tear their strategy apart, and then it will tear their throats. It chases after the tall one, dodging and weaving from her fired shots. The warrior cannot keep pace, and is quickly forgotten. There is only the dance of two hunters, vying for the spots of predator and prey. An arrow meant for its side strikes only air as it takes a wispy form, but there is only one patch of shadow accessible, and a second arrow meets it at the landing point. The head pierces into its shoulder, a sharp and burning pain. The tall one smiles. She anticipated it.

This one... this one is special.

It rips the arrow free, severing muscle as it goes, and darts to a nearby rooftop to heal and survey. The tall one takes aim, knocked bow pulled tight as she backs up. The armored one continues her sprint frantically down the avenue. The huntress slows, and then pulls herself into one of the buildings. It tilts its head. She abandons the warrior so easily.

It darts down to block the knight's path, claws outstretched through its shadowed jaunt to rake through her armor. She reacts just faster than it expected, battering it away with a wide shield blow, right into its unguarded side. It is thrown backwards, catching itself on the balls of its feet, kissing the edge of a lamp light. The warrior presses her advantage, a precise jab under the shield with a long and sharpened blade. The blow nicks a light graze along the beast's flesh.

It backs through the damnable light to retreat to shadow once more, then darts across the street, repositioning well behind the warrior. Then, it gathers the darkness around it, an empty camouflage. She looks around, confused, seeking the predator. Wreathed in gloom, there is nothing to see.

Foolishly, she drops to one knee. Leaving herself wide open, for claw and fang to slither through the gaps of metal and drink. It slow-steps toward the armored one's annihilation. Her eyes glow with radiance... too little, too late. It is upon her now, and its claw raises to tear-

The warrior spins on a dime, wrenching her sword deep within its ruby insides. "Gotcha." The sword pins the creature to the warrior. It flails at her, gathering shadow. She starts to run forward, picking up momentum, holding the monster aloft on her weapon. With the speed of a freight train, she charges straight through a street-side window. They crash together through the glass, and the beast is flung forward as they stumble and fall into the building.

"Coulda used the door, babe." The beast stands to see the tall one standing behind a counter, arrow still drawn at the ready. They've led it into a shop, herbs and flowers hung in planters at the side walls like twinned gardens. It knows this place... It growls in twisted delight as it spins to its feet, healing the worst of the sword wound's damage.

"Oh, bite me", says the warrior with a groan.

"Maybe la-WOAH!" The beast lunges for the tall one. Close quarters suits it better regardless. Her knocked arrow sticks into the side of the stairs, wide over its head. She backs up, ducking and dodging its claw swipes. She is graceful and precise. At some point in the scuffle she must have drawn a dagger, as between dodges she slashes along its flesh in lovely crimson lacerations. It draws from darkness and once more unleashes shadowy enervations, but she leaps between crossing tendrils, landing close to the beast and fearlessly jamming the dagger deep into its collar in a single motion.

It backs up. She gasps for air, out of breath and woozy, but straightens herself out, draws her fists, smiles, and winks. It has never seen something so beautiful.

"The lights!", She shouts. And they are cast in fluorescence.

It shields its eyes. TOO BRIGHT. Across the room, the armored one has flipped a switch. Hatred ferments deep within its sick heart. Wasting no time, the tall one rushes forward again. It flings itself away in desperation, backing into a corner. The dagger slides out of its flesh with a sweet and awful tearing, and it throws the knife toward the lightbulb. The weapon clatters and smashes against the small glass, a single dying spark, and the darkness returns.

Wrapped once more in umbral comforts, it springs toward the women, newly revitalized. It never reaches them.

"NON MOVERE!" Arcane chains of glowing magenta wrap around its blood-starved limbs. From the top of the stairs, the small one returns, a glow emanating from under her billowing robe sleeves. It cannot move a single muscle, try as it might to wrench free.

"Glad you could join us, Bug."

The tall one moves to meet the faun. Its eyes dart around, looking for some advantage.

The short one says, "It's brewing now!" Then, she pulls the small pad from behind her, pointing to a small splotch in black. "I couldn't tell if that was a three or an eight, so, I just threw in eleven to be safe."

"I am constantly astounded by Faewilds logic." The tall one sighs. "It's probably fine." The beast eyes the little one, the faun, a mage. Her unpredictability makes her a threat. But she fears, it can smell the terror oozing from her.

The beast concentrates, swirling shadows around itself.

It imagines the darkness as a weapon, manifold knives forged of nothing. The shadows fold in on themselves, twisting into sharpened points, and unleash towards the mage. She bleats in terror, dodging out of the way too slowly, and the shadows strike true, crashing into her woven arcana and sundering her spell.

It shakes itself free of the remnant wisps of magic, and pools the shadows around it once more, draped with it, spooling it like a cloak along its back.

"Neat trick, Moodie." The tall one knocks her bow once more, as the warrior draws her sword and places it along the top of her shield, and the mage stands to her feet, arcana already gathering at her fingertips. "Now it's almost fair."

The beast darts to avoid the torrent of arrows and motes of surging magic. The warrior closes with a downward swing, a narrow miss. It spins and teleports, dodging to get in close. Centered between the three, it unleashes its withheld shadow magic, tendrils and claws slashing and stabbing in a tornado of feral violence. The three dodge and block and are lacerated against the onslaught. To finish, the beast bursts the darkness in an explosion of force, sending the three sailing away.

Standing straight, the beast stares down at the mage, and uses the last of its pooled umbral magic to bolster its arms in shadow, and pins her to the wall by her shoulders.

As it closes in to feast, the mage makes a gesture, accompanied with... a piece of cardboard? An arcane shield sticks tight to her form as its fangs meet her neck. The barrier keeps it from piercing skin. It gnaws, trying to break through the magic, met only with a forceful burning, and it pulls away, waiting for her spell to fade. It holds her tight to the paneling, heaving and staring. Watching.

"Uhh, guys?", the faun says, "Permission to admit that this is kinda hot?"

From the side, the huntress tackles it to the stair landing. Its head slams hard against the ground, and she's already vaulting away before it can even stare. "Permission denied", she says, "Get your head in the game!"

The tall one and armored one surround it either side, swiping into spaces it dissipates from, as they suffer quick jabs from its claws that it cannot turn to killing blows. It can't help but concentrate on the huntress. Even in its domain of the dark, her elegance, her lethality, her control... it's all intoxicating. She is symphonic.

Still on the stairs, the mage stands, and begins to fling spells in its direction. "Do you think he's still in there? Can't you look at him and see, Allie?"

Sliding under a wide slice, the huntress rolls and jams another dagger into the beast's calf. It doubles over, only to be tackled and pinned to the ground by the warrior. The archer leaps to her feet. "I would, but, I happened to promise Moodie I wouldn't use my Insight on him. And, well, I think this still counts as Moodie."

"Aww! That's actually kinda sweet."

The beast slashes wildly at the warrior's pauldrons, scratching again and again to free itself. The armored woman says, "Yea, real fucking sweet, WOULD YOU HELP ME?!"

The huntress jaunts away. "I'm gonna finish up in the office, but you got this!"

"Allie! That's not fucking funny!" The tall one runs upstairs. "ALABASTRA!" The beast rolls to overpower the warrior, flinging her off of its form. It darts backwards, assessing. It needs to thin the herd, and has already drawn blood from this warrior. Sharpening its claws, it prepares another onslaught.

A tug along its leg nearly trips it back to the ground. Looking down, a tendril of plant matter has wrapped itself around its leg, snaking back to the wall of herbs. It looks around frantically to see the mage channeling a viridian rune, rectangular and winding. "Maybe we just need to, I dunno, dig deep? Bring up some happy memories? It worked before with... y'know!"

The warrior takes a knee behind a table, beginning to channel something herself. "Yea, sure, except what kinda happy memories do you think a misanthrope has? Hey, Bromley, remember when you sat alone, in a dark room, forever!? GOOD FUCKING TIMES, RIGHT?!" The beast grabs the vine, snapping it from its leg, and throws the entire trellis, racks, pots, garden, and all toward the opposite wall. The heaved mass splinters the table in two, knocks squarely into the knight, and crashes against its herbal twin. "FUCK!"

It scents blood. It moves in for the kill, ready to tear away at the piles of flora and layers of armor. Bursting from under the pile, the warrior carves her own path to freedom. It leaps to the ceiling in response, crawling along it to drop down on top of her.

"Sorry, Bromley", she says, drawing ragged and slowing breaths. "Just one won't kill you." It vaults from the ceiling, starving teeth bared.

Meeting its decent in an arc, the warrior swings her sword. The blade glows golden white hot, collides with the beast, and BOOMS with divine wrath. The twitching monster is smacked into the ground. It howls in pain unlike any it has felt before. A diagonal burn mark sits across its chest that will not heal. It is seared and scarred and marked. The warrior is even more dangerous prey than it thought. They all are. It is...

It is outmatched. It must run. Writhing still from the holy warrior's strike, it turns to scramble from this place.

"Oh, no you don't!" The mage yells. The garden mass thrashes and roils, a sea of green that rises in a terrible wave and swallows the monster whole. The vines lash it in place, constricting and tightening. It is held onto its knees, made to look upon the faun.

Descending the stairs, the huntress saunters next to the faun, appraising the beast with a hand to her chin. "On second thought, Glowbug... I see your point." The more it strains, the tighter the vines fight. It once again gathers its dark magic to break itself free. The huntress steps forward, holding a metal cylinder with a long and pointed end. She flicks the needle twice. "Show's over, Moodie. Time to take your medicine."

She rushes forward, and jams the pointed end into its neck. A strange sensation fills it, something passing into its form. She steps back, a smug and victorious smile. Still she underestimates it. They are distracted long enough. It unleashes the gathered shadow in a grand eruption, sending them all flying hard into walls. It stands. The armored one does not get back up. The mage is out for the count.

But its graceful huntress rises to her hands and knees. Finally. Finally. It will dine on rivers of exquisite blood. It rushes forward, and stabs DEEP into her gut. Her emerald eyes go wide, then harden with determination. It wrenches its claw free, grabbing her, preparing to drink.

It stumbles. The huntress pushes, a weak shove, but sufficient for a weak target. It falls backward, immense fatigue taking it as it drops to the floor. She holds her side, blood spilling between her fingers. The huntress walks forward, and... grabs it by the cheek. "It's okay, Moodie." The darkness swallows its vision. Her face is the last thing it sees.

"Everything is gonna be alright."