Chapters Chapter 2 - A Coven in Marginchester
Chapter 2 -A Coven in Marginchester
Witches are defined as magic-users whom utilize one of the four forbidden magics, they being Bone Magic, Blood Magic, Necromancy, Conjuration, or some combination of the four. Despite popular belief witches are not strictly female, however female witches are more common and tend to be more powerful than male witches as some techniques are more favourable to female users.
Witches can be identified in several ways, while the common system involves a lake and a rock chained to the anchor. We Hunter's prefer to identify witches before killing them. Many witches show symbols on their torso signifying...
Spirit grunted as the cart bounced roughly over a rock. He was sat in the back, laying against the hay as the stallion in front pulled him along. Spirit had convinced the trader to give him a ride, using his pleasant charms and a sizable bag of gold. They headed towards Marginchester, a sizable city nearer to the front, still controlled by Equestria, for now.
Spirit didn't have much intention of travelling there but with nary a whisper of any contracts to take up near by Spirit figured a large city like that so near the front was bound to have at least a ghost or two to deal with, anything to fill the old coin purse. Spirit closed his book, titled “Regarding Witches, Crones, and Necromancer's by Professor Dark Snow .”
Spirit was content to watch the road go by past him as he was pulled along, the landscape was full of rolling green hills and empty plains. It seemed all do very peaceful, but it wasn't long before the scent of rotting flesh would be carried by the wind to assault Spirit's nose. That was just before he saw them; handing front long wooden posts, traitors, deserters, and cowards, a length of rope ties around their necks and a hood over their face. They hung out their, flesh handing off bones, being pecked away by birds, a warning.
“Just coming in sight of Marginchester, sir,” The cart driver said.
Spirit turned to face front and see the city spread out before them, a stone wall teen feet tall surrounded the city while much taller buildings of stone and wood poked out from over top it. Being so near to the front the old and ancient defences simply weren't enough, thus tall wooden towers had been erected wherever possible which were brimming with archers; upon Gryphon attack the idea was to make flying around the city extremely deadly for them.
Spirit and the cart driver pulled up to the front gate which was guarded by two burly stallions in plate armour holding large steel halberds and with tunics bearing the crest of Equestria; a moon and a sun fused together at the middle.
“Halt!” one barked at them. “What's your cargo?”
“Hay, and a traveller,” the cart driver said as Spirit hopped off the cart, tipping his hat to the guards.
“A Hunter!” the guard exclaimed. “Don't think you'll find much work here friend, Celestia's Holy Fire protects this city from harm.”
“Then I'll have a lovely vacation,” Spirit said with a mildly sarcastic smile. “Want to search me?”
“I'm sure I'd find a number of banned items on you're person,” the guard grunted “Hunter's got their tools, head on it, the both of ya.”
The heavy iron gate lifted allowing the two stallions to enter, Spirit bid the cart stallion a farewell and began walking into the city. The narrow streets were crowded with a diverse crowd of common goers, travellers, soldiers off duty, strange folk from remote corners of the empire; all being called to and shouted at by the merchants and vendors whom lined the sides of the street. It was a thriving place, full of noise, music, laughter even, one could almost forget that just a hundred leagues north raged the war for the continent.
The crowd seemed to be flowing specifically towards the centre of the city so Spirit found himself following the current. The street opened up to a large central square where a sizable crowd gathering, all clamouring to get a closer look at something occurring at the centre, slipping through the crowd Spirit was able to come into sights. Before him were three large pyres each of which were piled around tall metal poles. Upon those poles hung ponies, three mares in fact. The first was an elderly mare, with a messy white mane and milky blind eyes, her brown coat was shaggy and unkempt. The second mare was a beautiful young maiden, a glossy red mane, striking green eyes, and and a soft pink coat. The third was nothing more that a filly, tiny and frail, she look terrified.
A stallion walked up before the pyres, hefting a lit torch, he wore polished steel platemail under a yellow tunic emblazoned with a sun being pierced with a sword, a bright white cape fluttered from his shoulders and a ornate longsword was at his side.
“Solar Paladin,” Spirit muttered to himself.
“These three!” the Paladin announced. “Stand accused of the practice of witchery! Of dark magic! They pray upon you! Children of Celestia! To gain power and wealth! And for this sin, by decree of Her Holy Majesty Celestia of the Eternal Sun these witches must burn”
“Burn the witches! Burn!” the crowd chanted rhythmically.
“Burn the witches! Burn!”
“Burn the witches! Burn! ”
“May the Light of the Sun have mercy upon your souls,” The Paladin said as he lit the pyres.
Spirit looked the way and clenches his jaw as the fire roared to life and the three mares began screaming in agony, the filly's being the most piercing. It went on and on until it very abruptly stopped. Spirit finally looked up to see the charred remains of the three mares and to also see that the crowd had quickly lost interest and was dispersing, leaving Spirit standing alone.
The Paladin noticed Spirit and approached him, offering a nod in greetings.
“Hunter,” he said.
“Paladin,” Spirit replied, doing his best to hide his disdain.
“Ser Golden Ray, Paladin of the Sunlight Order.”
“Spirit of Midica, Hunter for the Elder Chapel.”
“Few of you coming out of the Elder Chapel these days,” Golden Ray said. “Perhaps for the best, the Light of the Eternal Sun protects this land now, including this city, so I doubt you'll find much work here.”
“Not the first time I've heard that,” Spirit grunted, he gestured to the smouldering pyres with a nod. “How'd you figure these three were witches?”
“The crone had an abundance of magical potions and brewing equipment in her possession,” Golden Ray explained. “The maiden had a spell book, and the child wore magical charms around her neck.”
“That sounds like harmless sorcery to me, legal sorcery,” Spirit said, anger entering his voice.
“If they wanted to be sorceresses they should have obtained licences to practice magic from the Grand Mage, any unlicensed magic is witchery, so say the Sun Throne.”
“Elder Chapel says otherwise,” Spirit growled.
“The Elder Chapel and it's heresy are no longer the Divina Protectoris of Equestria, that privilege now rests rightfully with the Sunlight Order, and if it weren't for the Treaty, and the fact that you do help people; then I would try you a heretic and burn you like the witches,” Golden Ray said with bared teeth.
“Fun talk,” Spirit said sarcastically. “See you around, Paladin.”
“Good day, Hunter.”
Spirit left promptly, heaving a sigh as he went. Perhaps the Paladin had a point though, the Order were brutes but when they took hold of an area they scared pretty much any beast worth mentioning away, the smell of burning flesh was warning enough. Still, one night's stay instead of on the trail wouldn't hurt; Spirit had money enough for at least one night. Near the city square was many luxurious and expensive inns, full of good drinks and beautiful mares but Spirit knew all too well how light his coin purse was, no these wouldn't do. Instead he followed a street down the slope that the city sat on, down where the water and the sewage all flowed, the buildings became less well-kept, the streets full of rats, shit, and rough sorts whom looked like they'd eat a stallion as soon as look at him. The suspicious eyes of street children peered at him from shadowy alleyways as Spirit came across a modest two-floor inn which appeared to be on the verge of toppling over, it's mouldy wooden structure on a significant tilt to the right. A sign made out of an old cupboard door with words roughly carved into it, probably with a kitchen knife “Darkwater Inn .”
“Appropriate,” Spirit said to himself, he pushed open the door which was hanging loosely on rusty hinges and was immediately assaulted by a blast of warmth which stank of stale sweat and booze. Wrinkling his nose Spirit entered into the inn, the common room was packed with the poor labourers whom called this part of town home. With their unwashed manes, shaggy fur, and more than a few missing teeth; upon his entrance Spirit gained more than a few looks that were far from welcoming. Spirit approached the bar and sat down, keeping his hat on for now and keeping his face hidden, he'd rather no one remember his face in a place like this. The inn keep was a middle aged mare with a plump face and kind brown eyes whom emerged from the kitchen when Spirit sat down.
“How can I help ya, love?” she said, with a mothers warmth in her voice.
“Lodgings for one night, if you please madame, and a warm cider to push away the cold,” Spirit said.
“Aye, twenty for the room, two for the drink,” the inn keep said, she poured Spirit the drink as he divvied out the coin. “What brings you to my corner of paradise the, love?”
“Passing by mostly, though I'm always looking for work,” Spirit said, taking a sip, the cider's warmth easing the aches away and settling in his stomach.
“I'm a Hunter,” Spirit said, watching the innkeep's reaction.
“From the Chapel in Oldhill? I've heard of you lot, bring trouble some say.”
“Make trouble go away more like,” Spirit said. “Any trouble you think needs a Hunter?”
“Maybe,” the innkeep said thoughtfully. “There's always rumours you know, who can say whats true? But I'd say you should talk to Mister Spade.”
“And whom is Mister Spade?” Spirit asked.
“Iron Spade, he be the Corpse Gatherer 'round 'ere, any time a poor child ends up in the river or some stallions gets his neck cut after a mugging he grabs the body and cleans it up, will even bury it for enough coin, best we got with no real undertaker or morgue around,” the innkeep explained. “He may have something for ya, you can find his shop on Drainpipe Street”
“I thank you for the tip,” Spirit said, tipping his hat just before finishing his cider. “My room?”
“Up the stairs, third on on the left, and there's a breakfast for a extra five in the morn.”
“Thanks.”
Spirit climbed the stairs and entered the small room he had rented, it was not much but a single bed and a small trunk. Spirit unloaded his equipment and armour and hung his hat on the edge of the bed, stretching Spirit laid down on the bed and pulled out his journal, a quill, and ink. He wrote a quick entry mentioning the innkeep pointing him to Mister Spade the Corpse Gatherer, he then laid the journal out open to dry before falling promptly to sleep.
He awoke early the next morning, the orange light of dawn streaming through the dirty brown curtains of the small window. Spirit climbed out of bed and stretched before immediately dropping to the floor and performing rapid push-ups, thirty in total before relaxing on the floor for a few moments. Taking deep breaths to steady his heart beat before rising to his hooves and dressing, carefully strapping on his twin swords and belt full of potions before leaving the small room and going down the stairs.
The common room was empty, even the innkeeper wasn't awake yet, so Spirit left a coin on the counter and promptly left the inn. Turning left onto the street he went looking for Iron Spade's shop, it didn't take long after he found a sign directing him to Drainpipe Street. The shop was an old grey brick building with thick black drapes covering all the windows, the only think marking it was a sign nailed into the door which showed the roughly painted likeness of a skull being lifted by a spade.
Spirit rapped on the door loudly and didn't have to wait long for an answer before a stallion opened the door and shoved his head out. He was very thin, with tired dark eyes and a black wiry beard.
“Mister Spade?” Spirit asked.
“Yeah, you looking for a loved one?” Spade grunted.
“Not quite, I'm a Hunter,” Spirit said. “The innkeep of Darkwater mentioned you might have something for me.”
“Ah yes, some strange things turnt up, and I've seen much in my time, come come, I show ye,” Spade said, opening the door wider to allow Spirit inside. It was somehow colder inside the house then it was out, a long dim hallway was laid out with doors lining either side. Spade led Spirit to the fourth door on the left and unlocked it with a large iron key, inside the small barren room was three tables upon which were the forms of three corpses covered in white sheets.
“I've seen corpses pulled apart by stray dogs or perhaps mutilated by gangs as a warning, this is different,” Spade said, approaching the closest body. “But this is something different.”
Spade pulled the sheet down to just past the corpse's ribs, immediately apparent were the eyes; or rather the lack of them as two gaping holes were left in their absence. The second odd feature was the open would in the centre of the chest, it was very deep.
“All three exactly the same,” Spade said. “And these are but three of twelve total that were like this, it's just the other have been buried by now.”
“When did the first one appear?” Spirit asked.
“Just 'bout a fortnight ago, and they've been popping up here and there ever since,” Spade answered.
“If I may, I'd like a few moments to examine these bodies further,” Spirit said. “I'd like to discover perhaps the nature in which they were killed.”
“If ya like, I'll be 'round when you're done,” Spade said, leaving the room.
Spirit removed his hat and placed it to his chest, whispering a quiet prayer wishing peace to the dead. He then retrieved his notebook and quill from his bag and leaned over the corpse to examine it further, writing down his findings.
“Both eyes removed, lack of cuts around the sockets suggests it was done post-death and by someone with practical experience. They clearly wanted the eyes in tact which rules out animals or mobsters..
Large vertical cut in the centre of the chest, extending from the top of the rib cage down to the end of it. Cut is deep and very fine, it was made by a very sharp and thin blade. Perhaps a surgical scalpel...
No clear sign of death, both wounds were made post mortem.
Spirit looked at the wound closer and noticed how the flesh rested, something just didn't look right. Glancing behind him Spirit unsheathed his dagger and used it to gently loft the flesh away from the bone, opening up the wound further to peer inside, magically feeling around. Yes, there.
The heart was gone.
Spirit unstrapped his saddle bag and went digging through it, rifling through vials and papers. Finally he found it; a small talisman made of rowan wood, carved with small intricate runes from an age long past. Carefully Spirit held it aloft the corpse and as it neared the gaping wound in the chest it began to glow and hum with energy rather violently.
“Dark Magic, nice,” Spirit said out loud. “So that's how you died.”
A quick inspection of the other two corpses revealed that they too were missing their hearts and showed traces of Dark Magic. This was getting interesting. Spirit stored away the talisman and retrieved a book titled “A Record of Black Rituals – A cooperative work from Oldhill Scribes” and flipped through, looking for an entry in particular.
“The removal of eyes is used in witchery as a way of scrying, as through the eyes of the dead one can see beyond the veils of this realm. It is theorized that if enough eyes are collected one may be able to spy into Tartarus, perhaps view and even communicate with that realm... ” Spirit flipped forwards a few pages.
“The removal of the heart is used in several form of ritual witchery, Necromancer's may use them to summon the spirit attached to them. An abundance of hearts can be used as a sacrifice to lure Chorts, Fiends, or even it is rumoured to contact Fomorians. ”
“It must be my birthday,” Spirit said happily, gathering his things and calling for Mister Spade, he found the Corpse Gatherer quickly. “I don't suppose you'd be willing to pay to stop such defilement?”
“Don't bother me none in what state the corpses come to me in,” Spade shrugged. “Why? What you think happened?”
“I believe that these people were murdered and their organs taken as part of a dark ritual,” Spirit explained.
“Sweetest Sun and Moon, deliver me,” Spade said in shock. “Then I'd say take this to the Paladins, they ought to handle it.”
“Perhaps, or pay me when I do it for them,” Spirit said. “Where was the first body found.”
“In an alley, Dirtroad, next to the seamstress' shop,” Spade said as Spirit moved past him and quickly made for the door. “Oi! Don't end up here a corpse you hear!”
Spirit sought out the alleyway named by Spade, next to the seamstress' shop. It was a dead end, no reason for anyone to be there which suggested that perhaps the victim had been chased for a time before he was cornered in the alleyway. There were no markers nor signs of the murder after so long, yet perhaps there were witnesses.
The Seamstress Shop was open and Spirit entered, the small shop was piled to the brim with cloaks, tunics, dresses, and all manner of garments. The mare behind the counter was young and very pretty, with a brushed auburn mane which lay in curls over one shoulder, and enticing soft green eyes with long lashes. While Spirit admired her beauty he couldn't keep the voice of Master Hunter Crescent out of his head “You can't trust pretty girls. ”
“And what can I do for you, handsome?” the mare asked with a smile, showing off perfect white teeth. “New hat perhaps? That one looks like it's seen it's fair time in the sun.”
“Not quite, miss, I'm looking into a murder that occurred next to your shop in the alleyway, perhaps you noticed or heard something?” Spirit asked.
“I'm afraid not,” the mare said pleasantly. “I sleep rather heavy.”
“I see, and you do sleep above the shop?” Spirit asked.
“I do, but as I said, never heard a peep.”
“I see, well if you think of anything seek me out,” Spirit said, tipping his hat in farewell.
“Didn't see anything, not bloody likely,” Spirit mumbled to himself as he peered around the corner at the seamstress' shop. He had been monitoring the storefront ever since he had talking to the mare inside. Her story had seemed very suspicious to him, and afterwards Spirit had taken out the wooden talisman and held it near to the shop; it had hummed and glowed detecting dark magic around.
Spirit stood around the corner of a building just in sight of the shop, the past few hours had seen no one enter the shop at all which seemed odd. It wasn't until the sun had set and a full moon began to peak over the rooftops that the lights shut off in the shop, yet just as Spirit was thinking this was a false lead a cloaked figure emerged seemingly from nowhere and slipped into the shop. Five more equally shadowy figures would emerge and enter the shop within the next ten minutes, all entering the shop swiftly and clearly avoiding being seen. After waiting a while when no more appeared Spirit carefully approached the shop and peered through the window, the shop was dark and Spirit couldn't spot anyone inside yet the shop was small enough that he should have seen at least one. Carefully he pushed on the door latch and found it unlocked, slowly Spirit entered the shop and looked around, there was no obvious sign of any other exit where the seven could have gone. A quick check upstairs confirmed they weren't there either.
Spirit rubbed his chin and rummaged through his bag where he found a small vial filled with glowing blue liquid labelled “Spellbane .” Giving it a shake Spirit tossed the vial against a nearby room, the vial smashed and immediately the liquid inside turned to blue smoke which quickly spread and filled the entire shop, an electrical hum buzzed throughout and a glowing enveloped a cabinet which lay against the far wall. The cabinet shimmered and disappeared all together, an illusion cancelled out by the power of the potion.
Behind where the false cabinet was a hole in the wood of the wall, revealing a tunnel which lead steadily downwards and was lit by still burning torches. The air was so charged with magic that Spirit did not require any talismans or potions to detect it, he could practically taste the power in the air. Carefully Spirit ducked into the tunnel and began to follow it as it led him into the ground, the air became steadily even more cold as he descended, unnaturally so, like all the life and warmth had been drained out of this place. Sounds, voices reached Spirit's ears, echoing through the tunnel, there were all female voiced and speaking quickly, as Spirit got closer he saw a white light glowing at the end of the tunnel and the voices became clearer.
“We have been careless, and now we have a Hunter on our trail!”
“I knew this was too much! Potions and spells are one thing, but I won't be put in a pit on Oldhill or burned!”
“Sisters, this is why we formed this coven! How long must we run and hide from Hunters and Paladins alike? The moon is high tonight, we have what we need, let us commune now and gain the power to destroy this Hunter!”
“Yes! Yes! This Hunter is but mortal! No match for the power of Fomorians and the Geata na Firinne , let us use our power of blood, bone, and flesh! So says I!”
“And I!”
And I!”
The tunnel curved to the left and opened up into a large open area which was dug out in a vague dome. A white ball of magical energy kept the cave lit and around it gathered seven mares including the seamstress, their cloaks had been shed revealing thin and colourful dresses underneath with charms and talismans hanging from their necks and tied to their legs.
“Then let us begin the ritual,” the seamstress said, producing a canvas sack with was damp with some moisture.
“I'm still not sure about this, Red Dusk, they call you ravenous and now I see why! You are so quick to display your power that you don't think about us!”
“I love all of you!” Red Dusk declared. “That is why I insist on this, now, each of you take one.”
Red Dusk opened the bag and floated out it's contents. Eyes, they were eyes, all taken from the murder victims; each of the witches took one in their magical grasp. Facing the irises forward towards the white light that they gathered around.
“Grant us sight, grant us communion with He Whom Will Rise,” Red Dusk said loudly, closing her eyes as her horn glowed ever more bright. “Deonaigh dúinn radharc, tiarna, deonaigh do chumhacht orainn, téigh chugainn nuair a labhraíonn muid d'ainm Balor ”
“Ardaigh duine d'aois, ardú agus neart a thabhairt dúinn ” the coven chanted. They opened their eyes to reveal glowing white stares which was mirrored by the severed eyeballs that they held, a circle of energy began to form around them as bolts of magic discharged from it.
“Right,” Spirit said, unhooking a bomb from his belt and lighting it. “That's enough of that.”
Spirit tossed the bomb into the room where it violently exploded, interrupting the spell immediately and making the witches collapse in place. Only Red Dusk managed to stay upright.
“The Hunter! Flee!” she shouted. “I shall deal with him! Flee sisters!”
As Spirit drew his silver sword and charged he saw the witches one by one disappear in bright flashes as they teleported away. Red Dusk's horn crackled with energy as she slung a bolt of energy at the swiftly approaching Spirit. He managed to duck and slide underneath it only to be blasted backwards with a strong magical force, Spirit slammed against the rock wall hard; knocking the wind out of him.
“Tabhair dom cumhacht Balor ionas gur féidir liom an namhaid seo a bhrú ” Red Dusk said, immediately she was enveloped with a white glow, her dress turned to mist and her flesh shifted as she became more beast like, her teeth became sharp and black veins popped, her eyes turned to black pools. A witches true form. She lunged at Spirit with jaws open, Spirit stopped her with a jab of his swords pommel to her eyes and then roughly shoved her to the ground. Spirit stabbed downwards but the witch teleported a short distance away, metallic spikes grew out of the ground at her feat until they broke into razor sharp daggers which flew rapidly at Spirit. He managed to deflect and dodge most but one struck him in the shoulder, piercing through into his flesh and drawing blood. Spirit grunted in pain and gritted his teeth through the pain. He grasped a pouch at his belt, it was full of salt which he threw at Red Dusk, the grains struck her and brought about burned flesh and sores immediately, Red Dusk howled in pain and fell to her knees. Spirit took this opportunity to dash forward and swing savagely at the witches neck, severing the flesh deep as black blood splattered upon the rock floor. Red Dusk collapsed on the ground, convulsing violently and that is where Spirit struck down again and cut deeper into her neck, reaching the bone, and then one more strike severed the head clean off. Spirit haphazardly threw salt upon the body before he collapsed on his back, dropping his sword. He touched the place where the metal spike pierced him and provoked immense pain.
“Damn,” Spirit said. He pulled a small bottle from his bag, a healing brew, he drank a sip which filled him with warmth and dulled the pain. Spirit then grabbed the metal spike and after a few deep breaths pulled it out, shouting in pain he quickly poured the potion over the wound. It stung harshly and hissed audibly as it seared the wound closed, it still hurt but at least the bleeding had stopped.
Spirit rose from the ground slowly, retrieving his sword and sheathing it. Limping over he approached the body of Red Dusk the Ravenous, a witch of this calibre wouldn't stay head for long; given enough time her body would retrieve her head and put it back on. She needed to be contained. Using one of the discarded cloaks as a makeshift sack Spirit wrapped the witched body and head in it and threw her over his back, then with great struggle he lugged her back up the tunnel.
When Spirit entered the shop he spotted the light of torches outside, and when he burst through the front door he was confronted with with the unpleasant sight of Ser Golden Ray and ten Paladins of the Sunlight Order.
“Good hunt?” Golden Ray asked with a sneer.
“You could say that,” Spirit said, spitting blood onto the ground.
“Seems you did our job for us,” Golden Ray said. “Not something most would advice towards, in fact I believe upon our first meeting I told you that this city was under my protection.”
“And yet a coven of witches had formed here,” Spirit said. “And were engaged in rituals and murder most fowl, right under your nose!”
“You dare-”
“But! No one needs to know that,” Spirit interrupted. “Not if I don't say a word.”
“...What our your terms?” Golden Ray asked.
“Very simple, you compensate me for my trouble, no more than five hundred bits, and you allow me to take the remains of this witch back to Oldhill,” Spirit said.
“...Agreed,” Golden Ray. “If you speak even a breath of this I'll have you-”
“-Burned like a witch, yes yes,” Spirit said with a sigh. “Now if you excuse me I'd like to leave this Gods-forsaken city.”
Author's Note
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Chapter 3 - The Hunters of Oldhill
Chapter 3 - The Hunters of Oldhill
Spirit was getting a little annoyed by having to carry the dismembered carcass halfway across the country.
Not only was it not light at all, but both of the canvas sacks bounced awkwardly against him as he moved, the bag containing the head even more so. It would have been easier to put both the head and the body in the same back and sling it over his back but Spirit knew better; had he done that with a witch this powerful is was very likely she would have simply re-attached her head and attacked him.
Then there was the fact that very few people were willing to deal with a stallion carrying two blood-soaked canvas bags, regardless of the circumstances. Many of the innkeepers turned him away on sight , merchants refused to sell to him or bumped up their prices by the extreme. So Spirit found himself sleeping bushes and rationing his food. Although this treatment did lessen as he neared Oldhill, as the sight of Hunters carrying various bloody things was all too common.
Oldhill itself was a rather small town, barely more than a village, with stone buildings of ancient make grown over my moss and vines. Inhabited mostly by strange folk, old stallions whom didn't speak, bent crones who grew strange plants in their back gardens, and children who would dance for hours at night and never tire. They were there at the privilege of the Chapel.
The path to the Chapel itself lay through a thin crevasse cut through a solid cliff which lay at the far north end of Oldhill. No markings lay to guide you, so only those who knew the way could navigate it. Spirit squeezed through the thin pass and carefully navigated the winding dark trail until light poured in and the pass opened up to a wide opening nestled in the rocks.
A small hill lay at the centre of the vale, with green grass and poppies covering it's slope. At it's peak sat an old and unassuming chapel, with stone walls that had once been washed white but now were covered in cracks and moss. A rusty old bell still hung from the short tower and dusty windows clouded the interior.
Surrounding the Elder Chapel was hundreds, if not more, of graves. Each one with a headstone and with carefully measured identical pits. Six meters deep, two meters wide and two meters long. Many were empty and awaiting use but a fair amount were filled and with names carved into the headstones. Spirit read a few as he passed.
“Lily Petal, the Butcher of Bravish, Witch, Body ” Read one, and the gravestone next to it read. “ Lily Petal, the Butcher of Bravish, Witch, Head.” .
Spirit followed the gravel trail leading up to the chapel doors, it was quiet here; at least during the day time. Nary a breeze passed through Oldhill, as if the world was holding it's breath.
“Off your guard, are we?”
Spirit turned around and leaning against one of the headstones was a petite mare. She had a sandy mane tied into a rough braid at her side and a beige coat which was shaggy and not well groomed. Her eyes were stark green as they peered at Spirit wryly.
“Could'a shot you dead thrice over, love,” she tittered, tapping the heavy cross bow which she had leaned against her shoulder, the bolt was nearly the size of Spirit's front leg. More of the bolts could be seen sat in a quiver over the mare's back which was wrapped in rough leather pads of various qualities, with a dusty cloak thrown over it all.
“See you've finally crawled out of the desert, good to see you Dust Storm,” Spirit said. “Got tired of killing Direscorps and Golems?”
“Neva, that lot's me best income!” Dust laughed. “But I happened across a rarity that needed some takin' carin' of, that is a Necromancer had set up in one of old King Red's forts and thought it would be funny to start raisin' mummies and the like. So I put one in each eye and took off his 'ead.”
“Necromancer huh? Nice,” Spirit said, raising his eyebrows. “They've been rare since the raid.”
“Still a few about, anyways, what'cha bagged then?” Dust asked eagerly, standing up properly and slinging her crossbow over her back.
“Higher Witch, whole coven of them actually, but I only bagged the one,” Spirit said. “Were attempting some major conjuration when I found them.”
“A real hunta would've bagged the whole lot,” Dust said, giving Spirit a teasing punch on the shoulder. “C'mon, the Moundmakers should still be kickin' around, the just finished buryin' my hunt.”
Spirit followed Dust as she led him around the backside of the chapel where indeed there was a group of four stallions standing around a freshly filled grave.
“What's the catch?” One asked, he was a Scribe, with grey robes and a deep hood, he unfurled a scroll and prepared to take notes.
“Higher Witch, Red Dawn is the name,” Spirit said, grunting as he finally let the body and head slump to the floor. The other three stallions waited no time grabbing the body and carrying over to the nearest open grave.
“I'd go for the the whole deck, lads,” Spirit said. “I want this one buried until I'm dead and gone.”
“As you say, master Hunter,” one of the Moundmakers grunted. “Go grab a fresh stone and bars.”
One of the stallions climbed the hill and disappeared for a moment as the other three hefted over a large copper cauldron full of a thick white paste which Spirit knew to be full of salt, holy water, and silver shavings. They stirred the mixture thoroughly before carefully pouring it into the grave until there was no less than seven centimetres of it on the bottom. They then waited until their coworker returned whom did in short order, lugging a cart behind him which was rife with items.
First they pulled out a silver chain which they tightly wrapped around the witch's body before tossing it into the grave where it began to slowly sink into the paste. Then they handed Spirit a shovel and all of them began shovelling dirt on top until the grave was three quarters full. More of the paste was poured in and then they pulled out seven thick silver bars which were carefully embedded into the ground like a jail cell.
“Now comes the hard part,” Spirit said.
What was left on the cart was a thick and heavy limestone slab, sanded smooth and with the exact dimensions of the grave. It took all of them to lift it and then carefully place the slab into the hole where it slid in perfectly.
“Whadda reckon?” Dust asked, wiping her brow. “Hundred and fifty years before she makes her way out?”
“I'd bet one twenty,” Spirit said. “You boys need help with the head?”
“Nah, you go ahead master, we'll handle the rest.”
“Much obliged.”
Dust and Spirit made their way back to the front of the Chapel and entered. Inside old dark oak creaked under their hooves as they entered. The interior of the Elder Chapel were simple, a layer of dust lay over the mouldy floorboards. The only clean part was the altar at the far end of the otherwise empty room. A stone table with a white silk cloth over it. Spirit and Dust approached the altar and knelt before it, placing their foreheads against the edge of the table.
"Blood of ancients, hear our call; the hunt begins," they both said together.
There was a moment's pause wherein nothing happened but then there was a rumbling that grew from underground and took hold of the stone altar. Slowly the altar drew away from it's position, sliding backwards with the sound of scraping stone to reveal a staircase cut from stone and leading down into the earth. Torches lined either side of the tunnel and lit up the darkness with dancing flames.
"Ladies first," Spirit said, tipping his hat mockingly.
"You're far from a gentleman," Dust said as she descended into the tunnel.
The tunnel stretched out before them for only a short while before opening up. Before them lay what looked like a much larger and intricate version of the chapel that lay above the ground. With tall pillars supporting the ceiling that sported intricate mosaics depicting battles and heroic hunters of old.
The chapel was a bustle with commotion and talking, a group of no less than seven old stallions stood in a close group murmuring to each other. Young scribes would dash in and out of the group carrying letters and messages of all sorts. One such scribe approached Spirit and Dust.
“The Elder Council awaits both of your reports,” the Scribe said, Spirit and Dust approached the council as they slowly took notice of them and quieted to listen.
“Spirit, you first,” Elder White said crisply.
“My elders, upon travelling to Marginchester I discovered a coven of no less than seven highly skilled witches whom were attempting a summons of some manner of creature,” Spirit said. “I interrupted the summoning and killed one of the witches but the rest escaped.”
“And Dust, what have you discovered?” Elder White asked.
“My elders, upon travelling to Fort Phoenix I discovered a lone Necromancer whom had managed to summon a small army of undead, I managed to kill the Necromancer and banish the undead but the fort is still tainted with curses and black magic,” Dust said.
“Troubling, very troubling,” Elder White pondered. “Bring forth the orb, we must convene with Her Majesty.”
A scribe whom had been standing nearby unfurled a felt wrapping to reveal a perfectly round orb made of some manner of glass. Black smoke and light emanated from within it as blue mist poured from it's surface. The mist collected and took form eventually dissipating to reveal a tall Alicorn figure with dark blue fur and a mane like the starry night.
“Your Majesty, Princess Luna,” Elder White said with a bow. “You heard everything?”
“Yes,” Luna said, as she considered Spirit and Dust whom knelt before her. “You are sure of everything you saw? No tricks of the mind held you in their grasp?”
“I am certain, your majesty,” Spirit said.
“As am I, majesty,” Dust said.
“Then this is, indeed, very troubling as you said, Elder White,” Princess Luna said thoughtfully. “My sister believes that her Holy Order with it's devout paladins is the true path to protecting the common folk from dark forces, but what you have just told me proves that they are not infallible, and that I am just in placing my trust in the Elder Chapel.”
“What would you have us do, Your Majesty?” Elder White asked.
“My spies have reported possible witchcraft occurring around the front... even behind enemy lines,” Luna said. “I know the Elder Chapel takes no sides in war, and that is why I am asking you to follow this trail, which begins at Hoovesburg, the commander there can give you more details, and I request that Spirit and Dust be sent of this mission.”
“Of course you majesty,” Elder White said.
“The emissary I sent to you, she has arrived?” Luna asked.
“Yes, your majesty, not two days ago.”
“Good, she shall travel with Spirit and Dust.”
“But... this is a job for Hunters... your majesty,” Elder White insisted.
“You'll find that she as not as incompetent as you believe, Elder,” Luna said, she turned to look at Spirit. “Good hunting.”
The form of Princess Luna was consumed by blue mist once more which was drawn into the orb until it was all completely gone. The scribe holding it wrapped the orb back up.
“An emissary, from the Princess?” Dust asked. “Tha's unusual innit? Who is she?”
“Come, I'll introduce you, since apparently you shall be travelling together,” Elder White said tiredly. “She's spent most of her time in the archives, harassing the Head Scribe.”
Spirit and Dust exchanged a look before following Elder White over to a heavy wooden door, through it they walked into the archives. Rows upon rows of bookshelves lines every available space, scrolls, books, and pieces of loose parchment were scattered about haphazardly.
They found the Head Scribe at his desk, a very old stallion with long grey mane and beard and yellow eyes. He looked very annoyed with the young unicorn mare before him who was chatting away. She was a bookish look about her with straight purple hair, purple eyes, and lavender fur. She was wearing the colourful robes of a mage with a saddle bag stuffed full pf parchment and ink; and a long oak staff tipped with a blue crystal leaning against her side.
“All I'm saying is a simple genre, subject, and alphabetical system could greatly improve you pace management in here, not to mention some solid dusting-”
“Ahem ” Elder White cleared his throat, interrupting the mare's tirade.
“Oh! Elder, I was just explaining to the Head Scribe that-”
“Yes, yes, but we have more important matters to discuss,” Elder White said. “This is Spirit of Medica and Dust Storm, two of our best hunters, you'll be travelling with them it seems.”
“Oh? How exciting!” the mare said, trotting over to the two hunters and smiling. “I'm Twilight Sparkle, First Mage to Princess Celestia, and I have sooo many questions about the creature's you hunt!”
Author's Note
Yeah I'm still writing this.
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Chapter 4 - The Monstrocity of Cripthaven Manor
Chapter 4 – The Monstrosity of Cripthaven Manor
“So these graves, they're all for monsters?” Twilight asked.
“Only witches and the like, love, anythin' else don't need all this but the damn hags are a stubborn lot,” Dust Storm said.
Spirit, Dust, and Twilight had left the Chapel with haste at the urging of the Elder Council, taking a short time to stock up on food and other supplies. It would be a long journey to Hoovesburg.
“Why do you need to bury witches though?” Twilight asked. “And why bury their heads separate from their bodies?”
“Well that's simple, innit love? You bury 'em so they can't get back up and ya put their 'eads in a different grave or else they'd just place it back on.”
“But... how? What process do they use? Is it a ritual? Some sort of alchemy which allows them to live without their head?” Twilight spoke rapidly.
“Listen, uh...” Spirit began.
“Twilight.”
“Right, Twilight, we're Hunters not Scribes, I can tell you what something is and how to kill it,” Spirit shrugged. “But I don't know a thing about the Deep Magics, and trust me you're probably better off not knowing.”
“But surely knowing more about how all of it works could help you better fight these dark things!” Twilight insisted.
“Ain't that straight, love,” Dust shook her head. “Every thrice-damned abomination we face takes a toll ya see, a toll on the mind, normal folk ain't meant ta' see them sorts of things and we're nothing more than normal folk, we're already pushin' ta drive ourselves mad but readin' up on the deep magics is a bad idea, that's curse knowledge there and only trained scribes can decipher those old runes and keep their sanity.”
The three of them passed through the crevasse and back out into Oldhill, when they entered the town proper Dust approached a large notice board at the centre of town which was plastered with posters and notes.
“Don't you think we should focus instead of picking up new contracts?” Spirit asked.
“I's know you're low on money, don't ya like ta me, love,” Dust tittered. “Besides, the front all the way on the otha side of the damn country, a few stops along the way won't hurt us.”
“Y-you're going to hunt monsters while we travel?” Twilight asked, her voice shaking.
“Most of the time when people put up these sorts of things they ain't anything serious,” Spirit assured her. “An annoying ghost, maybe a troublesome drackonid, but we can embellish the story and make a pretty profit off the rather jumpy nature of common folk.”
“Sounds like you're just taking advantage of people,” Twilight said with a frown.
“Ah don't get ya tail inna twist, love, it's just good business,” Dust said dismissively before plucking a notice off of the board. “What about this one Spirit? Right along our route.”
“Pass it here,” Spirit said and Dust gave him the notice.
“REWARD FOR THE INVESTIGATION OF SOME UNHOLY BEAST ” it read. “TWENTY SIX SOULS ALREADY CLAIMED BY IT, SPEAK TO BALIFF SPADES IN CRIPTHAVEN
“Criphoof is only a few leagues north of here, and that's the direct we be headin'” Dust chirped.
“Sounds good to me,” Spirit said. “Let's go, keep up Mage!”
“My name is Twilight!”
“Don't care!”
The road was a long and twisted one, old cobblestones overrun by moss and accompanying plant life. As they travelled along its path the trees around them because taller and darker, branches twisted and gnarled with the cracking of the wind through their limps to accompany them on their past to Cripthaven. Soon their eyes would alight upon a quaint vestige of dark stone houses and manors, a rather wealthier area if remote, the town laying at the base of a hill where if one cast their eyes to it's peak they could see the blackened and elder ruins of a once great manor.
“Something feels off about this place,” Twilight said, in a hushed voice as they entered the narrow streets of Cripthaven. Nary a soul walked the streets despite it being the high hour of the day. The sun cast long and often oddly shaped shadows between the cramped buildings and alleyways, giving the illusion of thing moving just at the edge of sight but always unseen.
“Maybe we should just keep moving?” Twilight asked.
“Love, you're gunna have ta get used to the strange and disturbin' if yer gunna travel with us,” Dust Storm said. “Now, where's about ya think we may find this Baliff?”
“The jailhouse seems like a fair start,” Spirit said.
They quickly located the small castle-like jailhouse, a rather run down thing with stains of decay all around it. When they entered they saw the interior was just was mistreated, a stench of rot hung in the air mixed with foul stenches of stale ale and vomit. They found the Baliff, an aging stallion of little impression and much grey hair, unconscious in a pool of spilt ale which had formed on his desk.
“No wonder residents feel so safe,” Spirit said, rolling his eyes.
“Uh, excuse me? Bailiff?” Twilight called out, prodding the limp stallion with the butt end of her staff. The Bailiff merely groaned and shooed her away.
“Well I don't feel like waiting,” Spirit grunted, he spotted a nearby bucket and filled it at the build in pump next to it, he then mercilessly poured the icy cold water over the Bailiffs head, causing him to jolt awake if a fury of splutters and curses.
“Holy goddesses twin asses what the fuck ya do that for ya git!?” The Bailiff shouted angrily.
“Didn't feel lime waiting,” Spirit shrugged.
“So very sorry for disturbing you, sir,” Twilight apologized. “But we're here to inquire about a possible beast you have troubling your town?”
The Bailiff peered at Twilight and at Spirit and Dust, grunting as he wiped some water from his face.
“Two Hunters and a Canterlot mage, strange times indeed,” He mumbled. “hmpf, yes well, it started occurin' not long after the local lord's manor went up in flame, no idea how that happened either, just one place was on fire.”
“Anyways, the lord who owned the manor was never found, guess he burnt up, but then everyone started getting these... dreams, nightmares really, always about something coming up from underneath them; had the same one myself. And even during waking hours ya'd find yerself on edge all the damn time. Word among us is that his lordship may have passed in that fire, he never liked us lot, wouldn't surprise me if he was hauntin's us right now.”
“Your notice mentioned twenty six victims already,” Spirit said. “What happened to them?”
“Most of 'em were my deputies which I sent ta investigate the manor after the fire had quelled, only one came back and he came back stark raving mad before he put his life at the end of a rope,” the Bailiff shook his head sadly. “The rest were wanderers and treasure seekers who thought some manner of gold may be hidden in the ruins.”
“Any of the survivors talk about what they saw?”
“Like I said, they were raving mad, kept babblin' nonsense about 'the Flesh' and whatnot, means nothing to me.”
“Means nothing to me either,” Spirit said. “You two?”
“Nope,” Dust said.
“Never read any mention of 'The Flesh' before,” Twilight shrugged.
“Like I said, stark raving mad,” the Bailiff grunted.
“Mad people often speak the greatest truths,” Spirit said. “Well there's nothing for it, we'll half to take a look in the ruins ourselves.”
“Is that completely necessary?” Twilight asked in worry. “Perhaps we should just notify the nearest Temple and let them handle it?”
“What? And give up honest work to the Solar Paladins? Not on my life!” Dust Storm laughed.
“Besides, the oh so holy paladins would probably burn this whole town do the ground to prevent the spread of dark heresy,” Spirit grumbled.
“I'm willin to pay quite the fee to you lot if you can get rid of whatever's plaguing us without burning as all alive,” the Bailiff said wryly.
“Nine hundred,” Spirit said with a small grin.
“Six.”
“Eight-fifty.”
“Seven-fifty.”
“My dear Bailiff, we have a deal,” Spirit smiled and tipped his hat. “Now if you excuse us we'll take a look at that manor of yours, or what's left of it at least.”
They lead the jailhouse and began following the gravel road which led up to the peak of the hill where the manor's remains stood. As they got closer a chill entered the air and their breath began to steam in the air despite it being warm just a moment ago. No wind blowed and yet the barren trees began to crack and creak around them as if being disturbed by some other force.
When they crested the hill to stand at the entrance of what was once a great manor the noise stopped and the world was eerily quiet save for their hoofbeats on the ground. They stopped in front of what was once the front door.
All that remained of the manor were blackened pillars and odd geometric shapes of both wood and stone, it was barely recognizable as a home save for the vague doorframe and genera square outline of the debris. Sunlight shine through the mostly destroyed rooftop to cast long shadows along the ground.
“Keep close together, and be on your guard,” Spirit said, leading them in.
“Oi, Twilight,” Dust grunted softly. “Wot spells do ya know?”
“Oh! Uh... I can cast Shield, Blinding Light, Bolt, Telekinesis, and Fireball,” Twilight said. “Well, there's others but I'm sure they wouldn't be useful to you.”
“Wot ya said is plenty, now you listin 'ere,” Dust said carefully. “Anythin' jumps out at us you cast Shield and back off to a safe distance, I'll probably flank around the other side while Spirit here stays close quarters, if we need ya to start casting we'll let ya know.”
“O-okay,” Twilight said nervously.
“It'll be fine,” Dust said soothingly.
The sun had begun to set and the shadows lengthen as they searched through the rubble, Twilight cast a spell which produced a small ball of light which float amongst them and illuminated their surroundings brightly.
“If there was anything here, it would have attacked us already,” Spirit said. “Something's not right.”
“Maybe whatever it was ran off when we approached?” Twilight suggested hopefully.
“Nah, damned thing took down larger groups than us,” Dust. “It's possible it's only active during the night?”
“Spread out but don't go out of earshot,” Spirit said. “Look for any signs of anything.”
Twilight carefully picked her way through the rubble, shifting burned pieces of wood out of the way with the butt end of her staff. She knocked over a rather large log and when it fell there was a distinct echo that reverberated from where it fell. Where Twilight had thought was just a plank of wood laying on the ground she realized was embedded into the stone foundation itself, and as she shifted more rubble she found hinges and a handle. A hatch.
“I found something!” Twilight called out.
Spirit and Dust converged on Twilight and helped move the rest of the rubble out of the way, fully revealing the hatch. Spirit gave the handle a tug and it didn't budge open even slightly.
“Hold on a moment, and stand back,” Twilight said, lowering her staff so the tip of the crystal touched the hatch as her horn glowed brighter and she closed her eyes. “Oscail suas cac beag duit! ”
A bolt of energy shot out from Twilight's horn and travelled down her staff until it arched from the crystal to strike the hatch. Blowing the hinges clean off and sending the hatch flying open.
“Nice trick,” Dust said.
"Why thank you," Twilight said as she dipped the end of her staff into the inky darkness below, the crystal tip glowed and from it came forth an orb of light which travelled downward to illuminate the damp and rocky cavern.
"Not too far down," Spirit said. "Should be able top hope down no issue."
"Careful!" Twilight warned.
Spirit swung his hind legs into the hole, dangling them down while he held on to the edge with his front legs. Then after a quick steadying breath he let go and fell the short but still intimidating distance. He landed hard and with mild pain on his hooves but with no serious injury. He was followed by Dust who landed skilfully with a tuck and roll, and then Twilight who slowed her fall with magic.
From her staff Twilight produced another orb of light which flew forward of them and illuminated more of the caverns, a craggy wet place with smooth walls.
"Looks like his lordship was hiding something down here," Spirit said. "Question is, what?"
"Maybe it's whateva is makin that horrid smell?" Dust said.
"Don't smell nothing, you're the nose here Scout ," Spirit said.
"Smells of decay, rottin' bodies, pus and the like... look out! "
As Dust Storm yelled out as a mass appeared into the light, moving quickly, it was all any of them could do to jump out of the way. When Spirit recovered he spotted what had lashed out at them; a long tendril of flesh which appeared to be rotting in many places, with patches of blacked and inflamed skin falling off to reveal bones of unnatural construction.
The whole thing appeared to be a melted concoction of other things put together. Yet that was not all, as the end of the tentacle latched onto the far wall and began to pull the rest of the hulking thing into the light.
The horror that faced them was a mass of anemic flesh, piles upon piles of rolling skin and contracting muscles loosely connected by a nonsensical array of blood vessels and bones. From its bubbling surface stared at them many eyes of different colours and sizes, all blinking and staring at them as if from a crowd.
With the tendril pulled taunt the monstrosity dragged its damp mass across the stone ground towards them, with a gurgling cry spat out of a mouth unseen.
“Hunters of Old, guide my blade,” Spirit said softly, pulling his silver sword from his scabbard. “Go wide! Dust!”
“Aye!” Dust said, running swiftly to flank the beast from the right side. The thing turned and shifted another one of it's fleshy tendrils to lash out at Dust, this is when Spirit rushed forward and delivered a swift uppercut to the side of the thing. The flesh where his silver sword cut open and sizzled, the wound widening as the flesh was eaten away by the silver's purification.
The horror let out a moan as it slowly tried to turn towards Spirit but this is when a crossbow bolt came flying out of the darkness to strike one of it's many eyes dead on, penetrating deep. However, the flesh didn't seem to notice as it swung a heavy tendril at Swift who tried to dodge but was caught but they blow and thrown across the cavern to land roughly on the ground. A second bolt took out another eye yet the horror had only a mind for Spirit as it moved with surprising speed, shifting it's mass like a slug to slide in towards Spirit to go for the kill.
Yet at it reared back it's body to simply crush Spirit under it's weight a cry was heard as Twilight dove between the two with her staff ablaze with energy. And as the horror came crashing down the Crystal tip sparked forth a translucent dome with enveloped them and when struck by the beasts flesh it repelled it back with a flash and bang of power, making the think cry out and recoil.
A fiery bottle came tumbling through the air and broke upon the beasts body, the cocktail burst into flames which caught on the things decaying flesh and spread to a wide area as the thing thrashed around in apparent agony.
“Fire works!” called out Dust as yet another bolt struck out one of the things eyes.
“Fire...” Twilight said to herself as the shield she had cast drew back into her staff, the energy coalescing and sparking forth a flame which shot forth and struck the horror's flesh, exploding violently outward and carving out a considerable chunk of of it's body with the edges of the wound catching aflame. Yet the thing still moved and lashed out towards Twilight and Spirit.
Spirit dashed forward and ducked under the tendril to carve upwards and cleave the thing off, he then ran wide of the beast dragging his blade along it's form as he did so. As he stepped back he noticed within the large open cavity that Twilight had created lay several beating hearts. All he had to do was gesture to them and immediately a bolt struck one of the organs causing the horror to shutter as blood poured out of it. Spirit then rushed forward and cleaved through two more of the hearts before rolling out of the way as a second fireball flew through the air and struck the same place as the last.
The resulting explosion came out the opposite side of the monsters body, exploding it's innards about in a grotesque shower of blood and visceral as the rest of it's form slumped over dead as flames caught upon it and began to burn away.
Spirit stood before it catching his breath as Dust Storm and Twilight joined him, it was only a moment before Spirit rounded on Twilight with fury in his eyes.
“If you don't want to fucking die I suggest you don't do that again!” he spat.
“Wha- I just saved your life!” Twilight said in shock.
“You almost died is what you just did, you didn't know what this thing was, you didn't even know if it was susceptible to magic, for all you knew it would have phased right through your shield and killed us both!”
“Lass,” Dust said, cutting off Twilight's retort. “Let's go above, trust me, leave it be.”
Twilight clenched her jaw but held her tongue as she followed Dust back the way they came, the moment they surfaced Twilight slammed the butt of her staff into the ground in anger.
“Ungrateful little.... ugh!” she shouted.
“Alright, alright, sit down,” Dust Storm said calmly, as she unstrapped her saddlebag and began rummaging through it. “How're you feeling?”
“Angry!” Twilight said.
“Yes I know that, but anything else? Tired? Still scared? Any sense of foreboding or impending doom?” Dust asked.
“No?” Twilight said. “Why? Should I?”
“It's good that you don't, but natural if you did,” Dust Storm said as she produced a small bottle of reddish brown liquid. “Take a small sip of this, small I tells you.”
“What is it?” Twilight asked, taking the bottle and smelling it's odour, her nose wrinkling at it's foul smell.
“Laudanum,” Dust Storm said. “All unnatural beasts of this world and others tend to affect the mind, especially over time, many a old Hunta have gone insane from too many hunts. Rest helps but easing the mind with various... substances has proven the most effective, you'll feel a tad light headed fer a while but it's for the best trust me.”
Grimacing Twilight knocked back a small sip of the Laudanum, it burned her throat on its way down and she came back up spluttering. The concoction burned in her stomach and immediately made her feel woozy and lightheaded.
“You'll get used to it,” Dust said, laughing as she snatched the bottle back and took a generous swig, apparently not effected at all. “Now, as fer Spirit's little outburst, don't let it get to you, the stallion hates it when people save him, mostly 'cause he's had too many friends die that way, I say it's because he's got too much pride. Tha's why me and him work together so well, I stay off in the distance and put of the way, if you don't wanna catch his ire you'd best do the same.”
“You'd think a master Hunter like him would act more mature,” Twilight said bitterly.
“Lass, you'd best drop any assumptions about us Hunta's, we're nothin' like people say,” Dust laughed again.
Down below Spirit had begun searching the cavern where the horror had dwelt. At first he found nothing but remains of the beast which had fallen off long before they had arrived to slay the thing, yet, under one pile of decay he found the remains of a pony skeleton which appeared not to be a part of the flesh's mass. And laying next to the bones, half soaked in blood, was a journal.
Many of the pages were ruined, yet some still bore words that could be made out.
“..my zeal for blood rituals and summoning rites had begun to ebb, as each attempt invariably brought only failure and disappointment. Progress was halting, and the rapidly accumulating surplus of wasted flesh had become burdensome.
I could not store such a prodigious amount of offal, nor could I rid myself of it easily, possessed as it was by unnameable things from outer spheres. When excavations beneath the manor broke into a cavern of considerable size, I knew I had found a solution to the problem of disposal.
The spasmodically squirming, braying, and snorting half-corpses were heaped each upon the other, until at least I was rid of them. The cavern had become a landfill of snout and hoof, gristle and bone – a mountainous, twitching mass of misshaped flesh, fusing itself together in the darkness.
Yet, no longer a problem for me.”
“Cocky idiot, messing with shit he didn't understand,” Spirit said once he had rejoined the others and gave them the journal.
“We should contact Old Chapel and get them to send a team to consecrate this place,” Dust said. “In case the necromatic rituals pull that thing back together.”
“Is that likely?” Twilight asked, a tad fearfully.
“It's not impossible,” Spirit grunted. “We have to assume the worst.”
“We can send a message from the town,” Dust said. “It's getting dark so lets rest and leave at first light.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Spirit said, casting an eye back to the ruined manor as they left it.
Author's Note
Comment if you're reading this.
Chapter 1 - The Horror of Lidenhoof
A Hunter's Path By The Drunken Sailor
Chapter One The Horror of Lindenhoof
The sun had just begun to dip behind the hills and the small village of Lindenhoof was swiftly grasped by dusk, the last blood of the day spilling red light across the land and casting long and twisted shadows. The autumn leaves stirred in the cool wind and the trees of the woods rustled as the couple strolled along their favourite path that was headed back towards their village and home.
Silver Cloud and Honey Bunch strolled casually, with Honey's head rested on Silver's neck, both had contented smiles on their faces as they came to a stop in a small clearing, Silver Cloud taking his wife's lips in his own.
“I can't believe you won't be here for the birth,” Honey said, rubbing her swollen belly.
“I know love, but I've been ordered back to the front, we're going to need every able-bodied stallion, and I ain't no exception,” Silver said.
“Well you should be,” Honey pouted. “Especially if you're going to be leavin' your pregnant wife waiting at home and miss your own child's birth!”
“I know, I know,” Silver said soothingly. “But I promise that I'll be home before next Hearths Warming and then you and I can raise our child together.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” Silver Cloud said, pulling Honey into a hug. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Honey said.
They stayed like that for a while, held in each others embrace as the light slowly faded from the world. It didn't appear either of them was going to move until suddenly the wind stopped in it's entirety, leaving the woods eerily quiet except for the rustling of leaves and a strange sound; gurgling, cooing, not unlike a newborn.
“Do you hear that?” Honey asked, pulling away from Silver.
“It's probably just a fox,” Silver said.
“It didn't sound like one,” Honey said in worry.
“Oh come one, nothing to be afraid of, look,” Silver walked over to where the bushes were shaking and knelt down. “Come out little fo... what the F-”
Without warning something leap out of the bushes with immense speed and force, toppling Silver Cloud onto his back and landing on top of him. Silver had only the time to shout in surprise and horror before the thing bite down hard on his throat and teared the flesh to pieces, blood splattered onto the grass and Silver let out a gurgle of pain as his body convulsed violently before lying limp. Honey Bunch stood in abject horror as the creature, indescribable to her eyes, began to feed on the flesh of her husband.
Honey shrieked like a banshee, so loud that it echoed throughout the village which was already preparing for sleep. People poke their heads out of windows and doors to witness Honey Bunch running for her life and screaming her head off. Green Basket, the grocer, went out to meet her, having to grab her rather roughly to keep her in one place.
“Sweet Celestia, lass, you shouldn't be runnin' in your condition, what happened is.. is that blood?” Green Basket asked.
“In... in the woods, Silver, Oh fucking Celestia why...” Honey gasped for breath as tears began to fill her eyes and sobs built in her throat.
“Breath girl, and speak, what happened?” Green asked.
“A... monster...” Honey Bunch sobbed. “A monster took my husband!”
In the morning they found what was left of Silver Cloud and buried him with all the proper rites and traditions, and not soon after a meeting was called in the local tavern as to what to do. A company was put together, mostly old men and younger colts just entering stallionhood, they marched into the woods the next night with armed torches, pitchforks, and a few rusty old blades between them. The woods echoed once more with screams and it wasn't long before the party came running back, having lost two of their number and another badly hurt. No one dared go into the woods after that, signs were put up at every entrance and locals would warn every stranger what passed through there; death lurked in the woods near Lindenhoof.
It wasn't long after that the Hunter came.
He walked into Lindenhoof from the north just before midday, immediately drawing the eye of the locals whom were going about their business as usual. Travellers were already rare in Lindenhoof, but this one stood out more than most, his coat was a faded grey and his mane and tail bleached white, a large wide-brimmed black hat rested atop his head and was drawn rather low over his face, he wore a thick jerkin with chainmail underneath, a light steel cuirass was strapped to his chest and was riddled with scratches and dents. Over his back were two longsword's resting next to each other. Around his waist hung several small bags and pouches along with bottles and vials containing unknown liquids.
Seemingly not aware of the amount of eyes on his the stranger walked up to the town's notice board and peered at the largest poster; a large piece of parchment upon which was scrawled out the words; BEWARE THE HORROR OF LINDENHOOF DO NOT TRAVEL INTO THE WOODS AT NIGHT .
The stranger grabbed the poster before walking over to the nearest home, outside of which a young mare was sweeping the front deck. She looked up and jumped in surprise at the sudden appearance of the rather intimidating stranger.
“Excuse me miss,” the stranger asked with a soft voice, and showed the poster. “But whom might I speak to for more information regarding this so-called horror?”
“Depends who's asking under that hat,” the mare said suspiciously. The stranger's hat suddenly glowed with light blue hued magic and was lifted off his head to reveal a young unicorn stallion's face, he had piercing blue eyes with were surrounded by an array of scars, thin stubble lined his sharp features. The stranger offered a friendly smile as he held his hat to his chest and gave a short bow.
“Spirit of Midica, at your service,” Spirit said. “I'm here to help.”
The young mare directed Spirit to Warm Hearth, the innkeeper. When Spirit walked into the inn he grabbed more than a few looks from the patrons, but he paid them no mind as he approached the bar and sat down, removing his hat and placing it on the table. A large older stallion with a bald head and large grey beard stood behind the bar.
“You Warm Hearth?” Spirit asked.
“That's right, want something to wet your tongue stranger?”
“Schnapps if you please,” Spirit said, tossing a coin onto the counter. “And also I'd like to ask for a few things.”
“What about, can't say there's much for gossip in our little town,” Warm Hearth said, pouring Spirit his drink.
“Really, you'd think there'd be plenty of talk about the local attraction as it were,” Spirit said, pulling the poster he had grabbed earlier from his pocket and placing it on the counter. “What can you tell me about this?”
“Now you listen here, son,” Warm Hearth said fearfully. “Ain't no good to come from gettincurious about that horror.”
“Don't think you understand, I'm not an empty-headed tourist, I'm a Hunter, a hunter of monsters and unnatural things that pray on common folk such as yourself,” Spirit explained. “I heard tale of this horror of yours from a vagabond I passed by on the road, I believe I can deal with this creature or yours and free you of it's presence.”
“We sent a group of lads into those woods to kill it before, what makes you think you can do it in alone?”
“Well not to disparage your lads and their efforts, but I doubt they went about it properly, I've studied for years, trained for just as long to hunt things like this, spawns of the dark,” Spirit smiled. “It's my trade you see, and I'd like to offer my services to you.”
“Well... if you think you can help that be appreciated,” Warm Hearth said.
“Wonderful, now we can discuss my fee,” Spirit said happily.
“Fee?” Hearth asked, taken aback.
“Well yes, I am to provide you with a valuable service at great risk to my health, I'm not about to do it for free,” Spirit said.
“Listen, we ain't exactly swimming in bits here, you want to take care of that thing in the woods fine but don't expect us to pay you for it,” Hearth said stubbornly.
“In that case I wish to the best of luck,” Spirit said, downing the rest of his drink and donning his hat. “I'm sure whatever's in the woods will stay there... at least for now.”
Spirit made his way towards the door and was opening it slowly when...
“Wait,” Hearth said. “How much?”
“Two fifty bits,” Spirit said, turning back.
“Two fift- I can't afford that!” Hearth exclaimed, Spirit merely smiled and tipped his hat before once again making for the door.
“Wait!” Warm Hearth called again and Spirit stopped and turned. “...Two thirty.”
“My dear innkeeper,” Spirit smiled. “We have a deal.”
Spirit removed his hat and returned to his seat where Warm Hearth regarded him grumpily.
“Now, tell me everything you know about this horror,” Spirit said, leaning forward.
“Well it first appeared just about a month ago, Honey Bunch and her late husband, Silver Cloud had been taking a stroll through them woods while Silver was back from the front, that's when that thing attacked,” Warm Hearth shuttered. “Found him dead the next day, but we could barely recognize him.”
“How wold you describe his wounds? Where were they? How deep? Straight cuts or ripped?” Spirit pressed.
“His throat had been torn out and his face scratched to nothing,” Hearth said, looking green in the face. “There wasn't that much blood though, that was the strange thing, like the thing had drank him dry.”
“I see,” Spirit said thoughtfully. “And you said that some of your neighbours tried to kill it, did any of them make it back?”
“Two did, another two died in there and the fifth, Tree Breeze, died of his wounds two days later.”
“Where can I find the survivors, I would like to interview them both, along with Miss Honey Bunch,” Spirit said.
“Spark Cloud lives towards the west of the town, right next to Honey Bunch's home, the other survivor, Night Tail... well the incident weighed heavily on his mind, too heavy, cold codger wasn't long for the world anyway but we found him hanging from his own ceiling,” Hearth said sadly.
“I see, well, I'll be off then, thanks,” Spirit said, grabbing his hat and standing up.
“Good luck,” Warm Heart said as Spirit left the inn.
Spirit made is way to the westward end of town to find two humble houses right next to one another, he spotted a mare in the window of one and figured that ought to be Honey Bunch. He approached the door and knocked, Honey Bunch answered promptly, a tired looking mare with a honey-coloured mane tied up in a bun and plump from pregnancy.
“Miss Honey Bunch?” Spirit asked, tipping his hat. “My name is Spirit, I'm a hunter, I wanted to ask you a few questions about the night your husband died, do you mind if I come in?”
“You mean to kill that... thing?” Honey asked.
“That I do, miss.”
“...Come on in,” Honey Bunch said, opening the door fully for Spirit who entered and removed his hat, he followed Honey into her small kitchen where she offered him a chair. “What some tea, just took the kettle off the fire.”
“Thank you, that sounds lovely,” Spirit said, h sat silent for a moment as Honey Bunch poured them both tea. “What can you tell me about that night?”
“We... we were out for a stroll, me and Silver, I heard some strange noises... Silver thought it was just some animal, be checked the bushes and then that... thing, it jumped out and it... out sweet Celestia.”
“What did it look like? Can you describe it?” Spirit pressed.
“I... I only got a quick look but it was small, no bigger than a dog, red naked flesh with not fur nor hair, it's eyes were huge bulging things and it's mouth... opened up like the gate to Tartarus itself, rows of teeth inside and a tongue like a snake hanging out... I see it every night in my sleep, I doubt I'll ever forget it,” Honey Bunch stared at her untouched cup of tea.
“Where did this all happen?”
“In a small clearing just off the main trail, can't miss it.”
“I see,” Spirit leaned back and took a sip of his tea. “Hm, how far along are you?”
“Oh, two months now, it was Silver's...” Honey Bunch sighed as he rubbed her belly. “Poor thing won't ever know his father now.”
“Well, I do believe that's all I need,” Spirit said, standing up and retrieving his hat. “Thanks for the tea.”
“Hunter?” Honey Bunch said, looking up. “Show no mercy to that demon.”
“I'll do my best,” Spirit said, tipping his hat in farewell.
Spirit left Honey's home and crossed over to the next small house next door, he approached the door and gave three sharp knocks. No answer, he knocked gain, still no answer. The third and hardest round of knocks finally got an answer, the door opened just a crack to show a stallion peering out at Spirit.
“What do you want?” the stallion asked.
“Good evening, I'm looking Spark Cloud,” Spirit said.
“Yeah, and he's asking what the fuck you want,” Spark Cloud said in anger.
“I just wanted to ask a few questions, about the night you went into the woods and saw the monster there,” Spirit said and was met with a door slammed in his face, he immediately began knocking again. “Just a few questions, I mean to hunt that horror!”
“No mortal pony can face that monster and live!” Spark Cloud shouted from inside his house.
“Just a few questions, what harm could come of it? I just need to know what the creature looked like!” Spirit called out, no answer came for a long while and Spirit was thinking of leaving before the door cracked open once more.
“It was hug,” Spark Cloud said, not meeting Spirit's eyes. “Bigger than a fully grown Gryphon, long arms, mouth like a pit and filled with teeth, tore us apart.”
“And where did this happen exactly?” Spirit asked.
“We found it near the stream that runs through the woods... the bodies are probably still there unless that thing ate them.”
“Thank you, that's all I need,” Spirit said, he left without another word to be shared and made his way towards the woods which supposedly held this horror. The sun was begging to take it's dive towards the horizon and the shifting autumn leaves of the trees were basked in a warm orange glow as Spirit entered the woods. A rough trail split the trees and lead northward, Spirit followed the winding path until the village was just barely in sight, that's when he came across a small clearing just off the trail; must have been the spot that Honey Bunch mentioned.
Spirit walked into the clearing and looked around, it seemed normal at first glance but Spirit knew a closer look would reveal more. He removed his hat and knelt close to the ground, there, feint tracks, something had been through here at some point, the tracks were rounded and long, like whatever was here was dragging itself more than walking. Yet it was the shape that interested Spirit, round, no obvious markings that would indicate claws or any sort, strange.
There was nothing else of interest that Spirit could find so he retrieved his hat and went back to the trail, continuing to follow it deeper into the woods. The sun was gone now leaving everything shrouded in a heavy dusk, so Spirit cast a light spell which pawned a small orb of white light which floated near him and cut through the shadows. It was just a moment longer of walking before a foul smell reached his nose before the sound of rushing water reached his ears, and then the light from the spell illuminated the body of a stallion lying on the ground. Much of the flesh had rotted away and the corpse was quickly becoming not but the bones, still Spirit wrinkled his nose and knelt down to take a closer look. After so long it was hard to tell much about it, yet one thing did strike Spirit as odd: most of the bones were still intact, meaning the creature hadn't eaten much off the stallion, yet Spirit remembered that when Silver Cloud was found he was drained of blood, interesting. Spirit left the body where it was and continued on to the stream, it was rather deep, almost a river and it flowed with a fast and strong current. Spirit rested there for a moment, mulling over his thoughts. Honey Bunch said the creature was small, and the tracks reflected that, yet when the stallions from the village came it had somehow grown huge in just one day, it didn't eat it's victims only drained their blood. Something didn't fit.
Then the realization came suddenly. “Honey Bunch is pregnant.”
Spirit raced back into Lindenhoof and rushed right towards Honey Bunch's door where he began knocking hard and rapidly. Honey opened the door looking tired, with red around her eyes as if she had been crying.
“What do you wa-”
“Is this the first time you were pregnant?” Spirit asked urgently.
“What? What does this have to do with anything?” Honey Bunch asked, confused and clearly upset but Spirit pressed anyway.
“Is this your first child? Were you pregnant before? Please it's important,” Spirit said.
“I... no, I was pregnant before,” Honey Bunch couldn't meet Spirit's eyes.
“What happened to the first child?” Spirit asked, almost in excitement.
“Miscarriage, the poor thing was born dead, I was so ashamed I tossed the thing in the river,” Honey Bunch eyes teared up. “I never told Silver, Celestia I'm so stupid..”
“Yes, a Botchling,” Spirit said, an excited smile in his face as he turned and raced away. “Thanks!”
Spirit ran to the inn and burst in, startling the patrons trying to enjoy their drinks. He pushed his way past everyone and approached Warm Hearth.
“Don't tell me you've slain the thing already,” he said.
“Not yet,” Spirit replied. “About to, but I need a few things, I need a large pyre built at the edge of the woods and a bag of salt placed next to it, as much as you can give me.”
“What fo-”
“-and after that I want everyone in the village to get inside and place lines of salt on their doorsteps, oh! And strong rope, I'll need that as well,” Spirit listed, not even noticing Warm Hearth's dumbfounded face.
“Is that all?” he asked sarcastically.
“Yes, I believe so,” Spirit said, oblivious.
“Fine,” Warm Hearth sighed.
With what help could be gathered a large pyre was soon built at the edge of the wood and a sack of salt placed next to it. Spirit awaited for everyone to retreat inside, running a sharpening stone over one of his swords, the blade glittered silver under the pale light of Luna's moon. The last door slammed shut in Lindenhoof and Spirit was ready, he couldn't help the small grin that graced his features as he entered the woods with only Luna's light to guide him now. The night was quiet, devoid of wind or the chirping of birds, only the sound of Spirit's hooves pierced the silence; that was until the river came into earshot and then into sight. The rushing water glowed in the moonlight as Spirit stopped before it, looking around.
“Come out little Botchling,” Spirit mockingly called out. “Make this easy for the both of us.”
There came the sound of rustling leaves nearby and Spirit turned to see his theory confirmed; coming out of the woods appeared to be a small Pony fetus, red bloated flesh marred with swollen veins and arteries was stretched over under-formed bones, two large glassy eyes bulged out of a large head which held also a big gaping maw lined with teeth and a large tongue with lolled out of the mouth. A slimy tentacle protruded from it's stomach and wrapped around the torso, the remains of the umbilical cord.
“Alright you just sit there,” Spirit said, unsheathing his silver sword and slowly approaching the creature. “So I can kill you easy.”
Spirit lifted his sword and pointed down towards the Botchling's neck, the creature not doing much ins repose but rasping and cooing. Yet just as Spirit stabbed downwards the Botchling flung itself backwards with incredible speed, Spirit looked up and fully smiled as he watched the horror begin to change. It's bones cracked and splintered as the thing grew four times in size, it's flesh bubbling and skin stretching over an ever growing skeleton; more teeth shot out of the Botchling's gums as his offered a gurgling growl.
“And here I thought this would be boring job,” Spirit laughed. “Come on then.”
The Botchling lunged at him, mouth open wide yet Spirit ducked swiftly under and slashed directly to the monster's side, leaving a deep cut. The Botchling let out a pain filled wail as it backed off, the wound Spirit had left hissed and burned, increasing in size and clearly causing the monster a lot of pain.
“You like that silver?” Spirit taunted, hefting his sword. “Come get more.”
The Botchling seemed less eager to attack now so Spirit lunged forward and stabbed forward towards the beats eye, landing the hit and pulling backwards to deftly remove the eye right out it's socket. Black blood spewed out out of the Botchling's face as it screamed not unlike a child may scream, Spirit didn't waste any time in flicking the eyeball off his blade and deftly stabbing the other eye, this time dragging his sword straight through the side of the monsters head as it convulsed in pain. In desperation the Botchling began to swing it's grotesque hooves in wide blind arcs to keep Spirit away from it, yet Spirit dodged the first few swings before cutting up savagely and severing deep into where the shoulder met the arm on the left side, then as the Botchling collapsed onto that side Spirit delivered a hard blow to it's right arms, nearly severing it cleanly off. Now unable to stand the Botchling writhed on the ground with violent convictions and eerily Pony-like screams.
This was when Spirit sheathed his sword and retrieved the rope he has requested from a bag on his belt, using his magic Spirit tied a secure knot around the Botchling's head and pulled it tight. He then threw the rope over his shoulder and began to drag the writhing monster back towards Lindenhoof, the monster's screams pierced the night and echoes for leagues in every direction as Spirit dragged it with some difficulty to where the pyre was waiting. He jumped on top of the pyre and dragged the Botchling up there with him, then Spirit jumped off and secured the rope to the ground with an iron spike. Wiping his brow Spirit took hold of the bag of salt and levitated it over the Botchling where he then began to pour the salt all over the monster, as the grains touched it's flesh it would burn and sting, smoke arose from where the salt touch and massive blisters formed in an instant. The Botchling's screams only got louder yet Spirit kept pouring until the sack was empty, then he took a moment as the minster reeled in before lighting his horn.
“Go back to Tartarus,” Spirit said, lighting the pyre ablaze.
The Botchling continued to scream for a few minutes after that until it eventually fell silent, that's went Spirit doused the flames just enough for him to hope up and cut off the thing's head with a large knife. He let the pyre continue to burn as he hefted the burnt, bleeding head of the Botchling back into Lindenhoof.
Spirit entered the inn where most of the patrons still remained, their faces stricken in horror no doubt from the sounds they had heard throughout the night, Honey Bunch was there too. Spirit was given a wide berth as everyone recoiled from both him and the severed head he was carrying, the Hunter carried the head and placed it directly on the bar counter right in front of Warm Hearth.
“Sweet Celestia's graceful ass, what the fuck is that!” Warm Hearth shouted.
“Head of a Botchling, your local horror is dead, I'll take my money now,” spirit said, out of breath. He wiped his forehead and realized he had blood all over his hooves.
“W-what is a Botchling?' Honey Bunch asked. “You mentioned that earlier, but what is it, and what does it have to do with my... miscarriage?”
“Botchlings are created from miscarried fetuses that aren't given a proper burial,” Spirit explained. “Your pregnancy must have summoned it, Botchlings grow jealous of the living fetus and if it had the chance it would have drained both you and your unborn baby dry of blood, but it git your husband instead which gave it the taste for stallion blood and then when you all sent those stallion in to kill it you only provoked it; Botchlings will grow in size to defend themselves, it's actually really fascinating.”
Honey Bunch didn't look impressed, she looked horrified and sick. Warm Hearth just kept shaking his head like he couldn't believe it.
“Luna deliver us...” he mumbled.
“I do believe you owe me some payment,” Spirit pressed.
“Right,” Warm Hearth said, snapping out of his trance and retrieving a hefty sack of bits. “That's most of this months profit but worth it be rid of this thing I suppose.”
“I thank you kindly,” Spirit said, taking the bag. “Though I wouldn't mind using some of these for the room here.”
“I think it's better if you just leave,” Warm Hearth said, frowning.
Spirit's smile faltered just a tad but he maintained it and tipped his hate in farewell.
“As you say, good evening,” Spirit said and left the inn and the village of Lindenhoof to receive from this horror. Soon merchants and travellers would visit the town more often and the locals would tell them of the Horror of Lindenhoof and when the Hunter named Spirit came to town and slew it for a sack of gold. As for Spirit, his path would lead him elsewhere.
Author's Note
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