Hunter and Hunted (Closed to Philomel)

[The Huntsman]

I tilted my head to one side, blinking. I suppose she was right, but at the same time - I shook my head as we walked. “I've no care for being made to feel important. It matters not. I hunt, let others decide if what I do is grand or small.” I shrugged. “I am an eminently straight forward person.” I looked around as we got to a secluded part of the small town, and I leaned back against the wall, folding my arms over my chest.

Now that we were far enough away from the pub the faun turned to me. “We are looking for information to do with genetic testing. Research. That which changes a person. Perhaps you have heard about such things in your journeys?”

Genetic research? Testing? I blinked, slowly. “I do indeed have some information regarding that topic.” I said slowly. As I spoke, my hands dropped down to my sides and I pushed off of the wall. I was subtly bracing myself to react. “There is indeed a program here in Alerar focused on what you are seeking. But that is all I can tell you about the research, other than that there are no centers here. It is not my secret to give, other than its intended purpose is to create defenders. Subjects are… A different matter. Why do you ask?” Well now. This was going to be interesting in about half a moment, I think. I hadn't known anyone outside of the project had any clue of what was happening - and as far as I knew, no one should. This was supposed to be a rather clandestine activity by Aleraran scientists.

The faun’s tactics abruptly changed. One second she was casually watching the huntsman the next she was in his face.

“Where are these places?” she suddenly demanded. “What do they do? What people are they changing?” She pressed against his personal space, threatening to enter it.

[Philomel]

So it was true, there were experiments going on in the nation that were aimed to enhance a person beyond how nature created them. Her heart thumped in her chest as she felt anger rising within her. How dare anyone go against what the gods had made them as, how dare they change and experiment with their physical form in a way that went beyond anything of nature. Yes, some beasts morphed themselves with magic, but that was a blessing of the gods. Science, these drugs, however, were beyond their power, it was as if the experimenters were trying to play the role of god and take such matters into their own hands.

The Huntsman leapt away from her, his body twisting as he removed himself from her immediate vicinity. He landed, his coat billowing - and as it came down there was a blade in his hand. He held it low, non-threatening - but his stance was tense. “Do not rush at me like that, good lady. I am trained to react to sudden movements.” His voice was strained, a bit tight. He slowly stood back up, his head locked in her direction.

“I told you already that I can tell you nothing more of the research. It is a national secret, and you, are quite clearly not of my nation. As for who they are changing - volunteers. People who want to help others.” He was wary, watching Philomel for another movement.

Philomel watched the blade hover in the air. Immediately, in her mind, two creatures awoke to awareness. A few streets away Veridian skidded along the slippery, damp cobbles to do a complete turn, and from deep in the ground a hiss began to form, of a creature beginning to bellow, roar a shout as he twisted to gnaw his way to the surface …

Her lips parted, and her eyebrow twitched. “That was a very bad move. Don’t draw that again, or there will be consequences.” Her own hand had flown to the hilt of her main sword - Nameless - and still hovered around the area.

Hold! she told the other two sharply. She felt Veridian slow to a simple trot and Delath come to a gentle meander upwards. Her jaw worked.

“Then tell me as much as you can.” He watched her carefully. Then he slowly tilted his head to one side.

“Then I shall tell you this. There are things out there that most of my brethren cannot handle. And because most do not use magic, it becomes harder to fight back against the beasts that prowl the night, threatening everything we know and love. So, Huntsmen, men and women who train hard to fight back against that. Even then, we falter, in the face of titans, monsters that lay devastation across even highly trained forces. With the normal disdain for magic, we turned to volunteers, brave souls who were willingly to lay everything on the line in order to continue the Hunt, to continue to protect.” He swept his blade back into its holster, the weapon disappearing under his coat. “ Volunteers, and science. To protect and to hunt.”

Most do not use magic. There are many who still can. This, Philomel knew as a fact as she had faced drow wizards before. Anomalies perhaps, but nevertheless they existed. Her lips became a thin, morbid line and her eyes narrowed slits of prejudice and ire. So, there were things that they said were dark - it was the same with the entire world. And warriors of all types came to the aid, to defend the helpless. They sounded like excuses to her and she found her hands gripping into fists, her heart racing as she tried to control her utter rage.

Of all things, do not turn into a giant goat, she swore to herself. Just don't.

Sucking in a long breath she lowered her eyes at the man before her, and then the words clicked. Huntsmen. He had used the very specific word ‘Huntsmen’ to describe both himself … and them. Those 'brave souls’. Her lips parted, her eyes blinked as they slightly winded. He was … he was one. And he was before her, standing like a prize side of roast pig served on a silver platter. Glorious.

A twitch at the side of her mouth and she felt then so horribly tempted to challenge him there and then. But that being what it was, he would be of no further use. Better to use the information she had … then destroy.

Both of you, remain with us. Within metres, prepare for anything, but remain in wait. Veridian huffed a reply, showing her an image of him taking up the end of the alley that they were in, bordering in the Huntsman therefore. Delath poised beneath the cobbles they were at, ready to strike. Meanwhile, Gosling, dimly aware of this conversation eyed up the situation carefully and chose her odds with the man she was now leading upstairs.

“So you consider yourself brave and ideal, then? Noble volunteer?” she asked, her hand now completely removing from her sword hilt in absolute fake supplication.