The Alphaville Herald

The Tale of the Duke and The Hunt

by Pixeleen Mistral on 19/03/07 at 8:27 pm

as told by Morgdah Graves
[This story is told around the campfires in Avilion - the Editrix]

There was this Duke of a large parcel of land, he had servants, slaves,
women at his beck and call. He was known to be the hunter of all hunters.
His great hall was full of trophies
The trophies were of many many creatures
he had boars heads, elephant tusks, pelts of Lamia.
He also had creatures in cages, small pixies, kept in terrariums, and even
an orc in his kennels.

This great hunter had a trophy of almost every wild creature, and had his
dealings with every race, Elves, Dwarves, Gnomes, Humans – he was well
known throughout the land.

He had heard one day that there were people living in the forest to the
west – a people who were believed to live with the wild wolves of that
forest.

He had to have a hunt, to fetch one of the pelts of the wolves, and gain a
foothold in this people’s land.

Little did he know that the people who lived there were Werewolves.
They were civilized – as much as such a creature could be civilized.

These werewolves called themselves the Wolvers of Western Wastes.
They lived in packs in Dens, not in villages or cities.
The Duke, Marcarn, Took his 50 finest fighters.
They rode into the Woods,
their horses barded for battle with the Supernatural.

There was silver studded along their armor
and the weapons that were carried
were ensorceled by the finest Mages.

They rode into the Woods,
and found not a single person or Lupine.
They rode deeper into the forest, where sunlight barely filtered down to the
ground. The ground was a soft moss, and mushrooms dotted the paths.
The scent of old wood and raw earth filled the nostrils of the horses, who
also smelled the wolves, very nearby, but not to be seen.

The Duke and his men rode for hours, looking and following trails, when a
scream came from the end of the line, the horse had been knocked over, and
the rider… the rider was nowhere to be seen.

The horse was dead in seconds, his throat torn open by some claw or tooth,
and the men began to look around very nervously
the other horses started to stamp and snort, some rearing up, threatening to
displace their riders.

But the Duke kept going.

Into the woods rode the hunters, tracking the beast that had taken the man
from his horse without so much as a snarl.
Another half hour went by, and soon, another man disappeared from the ranks,
this time, the horse as well.

This slow and methodical decimation of the hunting party kept on, but yet
the Duke Refused to yield.
He must have that pelt, on the life of every man -even on his very own!

This time, they were so deep into the forest, that even the finest tracker
was getting lost They had to camp for the night.
During the night, a slight figure slipped into the Duke’s tent, its eyes a
glowing yellow

There were no guards that saw this figure enter the tent, and the Duke was
helpless

The slight figure bent over the Duke, and a warm hand slipped over his
mouth, keeping him from shouting in surprise.
Marcarn awoke instantly, hand going to a dagger that no longer lay in its
place by his pillow, but resided in the hand of slight figure.

“You, human of the flatland. I will lead you and your men out of the forest
on one condition…” came the soft snarl from the throat of the man
who held the Duke at hostage.

“You are not to return to these woods again. If you do, our people will come
to your cities, take your women, kill your children and burn the buildings
to the ground.”

“If you keep your word, and do not enter our wood for a year, we will send
an emmisary to your court, and talks of peace will be had”

“Do you agree to these terms, Man of the Plains? ” the hushed growl asked.
Marcarn’s eyes were wide in wonder that this impudent …. thing … was
able to enter the tent, let alone have the … audacity… to spell out
terms of his surrender.

However he did see that if he didn’t go along with these terms,
the remaining 10 of his 50 men would be lost to him, and his people would
rebel against this venture he had

“Well, Man, what do you say?” came the query.

“I will agree to these terms, as long as no more of my men are killed. I
will not enter your woods again, unless it is under a banner of peace.”

Marcarn nodded as the dagger was handed back to him…..
He noticed that the palm of the man was seared and blistered where the
silver had pressed into the skin.

“You are a Wolver….” he breathed

“Aye, I am at that. My name is Grenzis. I am a cousin to the deep woods
Wolvers. They will not harm a Man under my eyes.”

Marcarn nodded

“I will stay the night at your camp, O Man, and I will keep my cousins at
bay”

“We will depart in the morning.” Marcarn stated flatly.

In the morning, they all woke, and not another man was taken, however, 3
horses were missing

It took another 3 days to exit the woods taking paths that the horses almost
couldn’t walk through, but Grenzis kept his word
and on the morning of the 5th day, they broke the treeline, and never were
there a happy group than the men who saw the light of day

When Marcarn turned to thank his Wolven Protector, there was nothing, not
even a moving branch.

They returned home, where the woman of the men who perished were taken in
by the Duke, and provided a stipend for the rest of their lives.
He no longer cared for the hunt of the Wolven, and one year later, there was
a man at the castle entrance.

He was dressed in what seemed to be the very pelts that the Duke had wanted
for his wall and floor.
He carried a staff and large pouch at his side
The guards knew the story, for they were part of the group at the woods.
They quietly led him to the Throne room
The Duke stood from his chair, and bowed deeply to the man in the furs.
The man who came to court was a wolven named Bartholomew.

Bartholomew brought out treaties for the Duke to sign, and tales for the
Duke to hear

Duke Marcarn and the Wolven kept their bargains. No hunters entered the
woods, and no Werewolves harassed the local peasantry

So is the tale of the Hunt… the hunter and the hunted…. now you decide
who was who.