Hunting Parties (Solomon)

[damitha]

Sweat was already dripping down the small of her back as she gritted her teeth and wound the thick leather around her hand once more. She took a step back as the sound of heavy breathing filled the round wooden ring and quick as lightening the long peice of leather that she uses as a lead snapped against the wet hide of the horse. The stallion bucked, continueing to run along the outside before stopping halfway through the headlong rush. The dark haired elf frowned and snapped the leather lead at the sweaty brown horse once again. She was having a tough time getting the horse to submit, to allow Damitha dominance and unless the horse did that then she could not teach the horse correctly.

Another half circle and Damitha cracked the lead once again, pushing the horse on until he ran in complete circles, his head down and his gait flowing smoothly. Finally she dropped her hands, turning her shoulder lightly before ignoring the stallion completely. The harsh breathing of both had decreased and the soft thuds of the horses heavy hooves became clearer the closer the beast came. When she felt the hot breath upon the nape of her neck she took a step forward and turned to lay a hand on the horses damp neck. The compliance she felt made her smile and she hooked the end of the leather lead to the thin rope halter she had constructed. The two left the little wooden ring and she reached out with her mind, cautiously so she only caught the mind of her dark bay stallion, Sifu. While the stallion couldn't form competent responses, or really understand her words, the feelings that came from her he did interpret and he knew how disappointed she would be if the horses he gaurded in 'his' herd ran off.

After Dami had released the stallion she turned back to the small cottage that lie near the edge of Du Weldenvarden. Her mother was off into town and Dami was bound and determined to clean herself up and then go hunting. The dirt on the faded brown breeches had sunk in and she doubted even magic could get it out. Once she reached the cottage she whispered a quick spell to quickly fill the tub with water from the well outside. She shucked off her pants and took the roomy shirt off before plunging herself into the bathtub. She sighed as the water engulfed her skin and her muscles relaxed. Her head dipped under the water and her hair became pitch black as the water weaved its way between strands. Her hands ran through her hair before she surfaced and once she deemed herself clean enough, after some scrubbing with a rather bland smelling soap, she climbed out of the tub to dress once more.

Once dressed in a pair of brown pants and a green shirt that was her fathers, two sizes to big, she grabbed her bow and arrow along with a curved hunting knife that she stuck in its sheath that lay against her side. She slipped on a pair of deer skin slippers and left the house, her bow and arrows slung across her back and her step light and springy. Her hair was still wet, some strands drying faster yet much of her hair clung to her neck. She shook her head, freeing the wet hair and aiding in the slow drying process. Her pace was slow and she listened intently to the forest. She had picked up on the soft sounds of deer feet when the sound of heavy breathing, breaking twigs, and heavy footfalls broke her concentration. Swinging around she spotted a humanoid figure who seemed quite distressed. As he ran towards her she pulled her bow out and noched an arrow. "Wait! Help, please. He cried and she lowered the bow a bit as a frown touched her face. He was still running towards her as she cautiously scanned the area.

[Amur]

“The thrill of hunt! There is no other feeling that matches it, the thrill of the hunt, and the feel of the kill. Making your prey aware that they’re being hunted, and making them feel fear unlike anything they’ve ever felt before. Revel in their blind panics, and take joy in putting your prey in their place... Make them aware that they are at the bottom of the food chain.”

Solomon stalked his prey, his hood raised, hiding the wide smile that distorted his features. It had been a long time since he had found such enjoyment, and the first time that he had found it in this foreign land. His first real hunt since The Incident, he had almost forgotten how it had felt to stalk prey, make it aware that it was being hunted. To make it spend its last hours in terror before delivering the final strike.

Solomon licked his lips.

One strike to end the days of effort spent getting his prey to this point. He was going to revel in the feel of this kill; he could already taste the rapidly approaching end. And it was DELICIOUS.

He looked down at the frightened, little male human as he ran. Solomon already several trees ahead of him, watching with a sense of amusement as his prey kept wildly looking in all directions, frequently tripping over its own feet as it struggled in vain to put distance between itself and Solomon. He drew in a deep breath as his prey passed beneath the branch that he was perched on, his excitement causing him to tremble in silence.

He waited several seconds.

And then moved onto the next perch, his usual predatory grace proving its worth as he left not so much as a leaf out-of-place as he moved, he stopped. Keeping a close eye on his prey as it moved and knelt down next to a nearby tree in order to regain its breath, this was too good, it was exhausting itself.

Solomon moved to perch himself on the tree his prey was resting at, and silently lowered himself to the ground behind it. He stalked his way toward it, crouching slightly and placing his head beside the lowered head of his prey, and then slowly, he tilted his head and drew in a deep breath through his nose as he positioned his mouth next to the ear of his prey.

He held it for a second and then let it out slowly as an almost sensual sigh.

“Mmm. I can smell your fear. It is... delicious, little lamb.”
He whispered into its ear, his smile broadening as his prey whimpered and managed to start bolting forward once more. Solomon stood still for a moment, waiting for the inevitable moment where his prey would look back to check the distance between them. It staggered as it looked back at him; Solomon used that moment of confusion to put himself back into the treetops in order to start stalking his fearful prey again.

He moved forward, leaping silently from perch-to-perch, stopping as his prey caught its wits and checked behind it again. He allowed himself a small chuckle as he heard it make a noise of distress and redouble its efforts to flee from him.

”Adorable little lamb. I love it when they run.”
He thought excitedly to himself, allowing his prey some second’s head start. He would allow it some hope before he crushed it, which was one of many things that made hunting sentient prey so much more... Exciting.

At first Solomon had not planned on hunting this man, but he had heard him along the road. Freely bragging that he was “untouchable”, not that Solomon could figure out how his prey was ever able to reach such a conclusion, perhaps it was the large number of sell-swords it had surrounded itself with, or maybe it meant that it was untouchable politically. Solomon had little care for the details; he was merely out to show his prey its place. So, he had spent the last several days slowly stalking and hunting his prey and every last sell-sword it had with it.

And slowly, very slowly, he dropped each warrior one-at-a-time. He had watched, his excitement growing as the entire group had become more fearful of their unseen predator. He had revelled in their panic at each failed attempt to prevent him from claiming his next victim. And when, they had tried to simply run, that was when Solomon had seized the opportunity and killed the rest of the warriors before chasing down his intended prey.

His prey had staggered into this forested area, and now, the rest was history. As the famous saying is so often said, it was backing itself into a corner, now, all Solomon had to do was make the kill and cement his position in the food chain, he was above everyone.

”Wait! Help, please.”
Solomon paused and looked down; it seemed that his prey had stumbled across another traveller. How unfortunate, it looked like his excitement was going to continue a while longer, he would accept the challenge if his prey wanted to drag an unfortunate bystander into this hunt.

Solomon licked his lips once more; from this distance he couldn’t tell much about the other person, just that it was a female. Not that the sex of his prey bothered him, either way it was going to die, it was just a matter of picking the right time.

He kept himself out of sight.

He would give his prey a small sense of hope; make it think that it had gotten the better of him. At least for a little while, crushing the hope of sentient prey, the thrill of the hunt, the feel of the kill, it would make the eventual climax all the more enjoyable.


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