KSET: Hellhound, Ep: 2

The Knights of the Slightly Ellipsed Table and the Harried Hellhound

	Ash crumbles underfoot as our three knights ascend the treacherous Gebsmedat Mountain, an uninhabitable place of overbearing heat, wilting crops, and few human settlements- the few mentioned only at the base of the mountain nearest to the paved roads. The only way up is through a winding dirt path leading through bare, charred treetrunks, pits of magma, and a fog of low, blinding soot.

Knight Gaben, Truman, and Sir Cumference have been tasked with traversing the mountain and reaching the town on the other side, though the journey has been draining. Their boots pile the dust over their toes, leaving a scar in the land through which they've lazily trudged through for hours on end. Sir Cumference gurgles down the team's water, his back laced with a number of bedrolls and equipment more fit for a mule. All three are slumped, discouraged, and most of all, exhausted.

"...How much longer until we slay the damned thing and make haste back to an inn?" Truman inquires, raising his bascinet to show his red, sweat-caked face. The winds pelt his face with ash and cause him to flinch.

Sir Cumference continues to gurgle water through the underside of his greathelm, his many chins dribbling perspiration onto the map before him. He swallows, huffing his lack of breath as cholesterol squeezes his overdrived organs.

"Well, that's what you idiots get for wearing helmets and underwear today. I'm much more comfortable giving the great feeling of free winds to my little soldiers and letting my magnificent hair run wild through the ashy winds~." Knight Gaben chimes, running his unburdened left hand through his curly, ash-infested light brown locks.

He looks to the horizon of the rising hill. A cave peeks out from the crease of his vision, a black hole contrasting the shale shards of the mountain's lava-streaked walls.

Knight Gaben points toward it with his blade while striking a heroic pose. "Ahah! A cave! A place of rest for us three, away from the heat of the sun and free of the smog which lingers along these lands! Let us go, men!"

The three charge up the hill and slide down the soot road, turning through the small bit of forest to the mouth of the cave. Their pots and pans, their camping equipment, and Truman's bascinet bounces loudly the whole way into the cave, echoing through the sidepaths and bouncing off the walls. A hoard of bats, regular as they are, swerve overhead and force the knights to duck as they descend. The light begins to fade from the outside just a few minutes in, so they decide that is far enough from the entryway to rest.

Knight Gaben and Truman stand guard as Sir Cumference unloads their equipment from the bag on his hands and knees, heaving and panting much like a dog by an empty water bowl. It's taking forever, they're low on resources and the only respite from their environmental plight is the cool atmosphere, atleast by comparison, provided by the damp cave they've chosen.

"Y'know Gaben, do you really think it's a good idea to be settling in this cave?" Truman turns to Knight Gaben, raising his bascinet to show the concern lining his face, the worn helm squeaking as he does so.

Knight Gaben looks back at him, canting his head with an incredulous fold of his brows. "What ever could you mean, Truman?"

Truman glances around at the interior decoration of the stalactites, distracting himself with the dribbling water which falls from the tips of the drapery. "Well... I mean, don't monsters usually live in caves?"

"Oh don't be silly. If there was a monster, we'd have noticed something by now, like a child being raped, or a dead cow. There's always a dead cow near a beast..." Gaben mutters, waving his hand dismissively and turning away.

Truman nods incertainly, checking over his shoulder due to a growing paranoia. He teeters on his toes, chewing his bottom lip and trying to keep the noise produced by his swinging platemail to a minimum. The darkness of the cave seems to surround him, looming over his shoulders with a mental weight only known to his instincts.

By this time, Sir Cumference has managed to set up their beds, which they would've used to rest before continuing on their journey- though all is not as it seems.

The abyss of the cavern suddenly splits around a pair of blazing red eyes with piercing black pupils. Steam rises from the tearducts of the narrowing gaze. A slender face eclipses the black, a paw urging forth from the void and clinging to the ground, the dirt yielding to its sharp claws. The hellhound's smile is now clear, her body still hidden by the lightless depths, but soon revealed as her eyes ignite with flame. She prepares to descend upon the intruders.

With a sharp awareness, Truman turns toward the approaching figure. He stares at her like a deer in headlights, his jaw trembling and eyes absurdly wide. "H-h-he... H-... Heeeellll..." He wheezes, pointing with his shaking free hand.

Knight Gaben glances to Truman, "Are you alright?" He asks, looking in the direction he blankly stares.

"HELLHOUND!!!" Truman and Knight Gaben alarm in unison, their faces white with knowing fear.

On being detected, the hellhound's smile broadens wickedly. She springs to her feet and sprints full force at Knight Gaben from the other side of the cavern, her paws outstretched and claws retracted.

Truman corrects his center of gravity low to the ground with his right foot back and knees bent, his halberd held out before him like a crowbar. He's ready to defend! Or atleast, he would be if Knight Gaben hadn't shoved him as hard as he could. Truman loses his footing and falls flat on his face with his ass in the air, his weapon sliding a few inches from the tips of his fingers.

"Take them, not me! I'm only three inches!" Knight Gaben shouts, booking it for the entrance.

"You bastard!" Truman yells, muffled by the dirt. His bascinet is scrunched up by the impact like a crushed soda can, dirt caking the front of his heraldic cloth armor.

The hellhound swerves to the right just a few paces from Truman, diving through the air and taking Knight Gaben from behind. They both tumble to the ground, cavernous dust kicking up around them while Knight Gaben rigorously kicks at the hellhound. They both swat at eachother childishly, faces turned away and teeth grit. Grunts and squeaks, yelps and curses fly from the two as they roll about.

Truman takes this time to recover from his proned position, bending over to reclaim his halberd, then glaring at Knight Gaben and the hellhound as they fight. "Serves you right... Bastard..." He spits beneath his breath.

Sir Cumference is completely dumbfounded by the turn of events, gathering up their pack in his arms and jogging up to Truman's side. They both swerve and glance at the tumbleweed of man and hound, slaps flying and platemail rattling. They're incapable of interfering with the fight being so fast-paced and relentless.

Knight Gaben has her ears in a lock, her face being mushed into the ground and his knees on either side of her. His expression is focused with a hint of horror, knowing full well that should he release the grapple, she'll gain the upper hand.

"So uh... Isn't that a hellhound?" Truman leans into Sir Cumference, ensuring to keep his voice down as to not draw her attention.

"Looks l-like it." Sir Cumference responds, wiping his helmet with a cloth. "..Do you, uh... Do you think we should check the t-tome of kn-knowledge for like... A way to stop her?"

Truman scoffs, "The bastard pushed me! I'm not helping him!"

"B-but... He's gon' get raped i-if we don't do anythin'." Sir Cumference whines through his clogged throat.

"Oh fine..." Truman resigns, reaching into their backpack and pulling out their copy of the MGE from one of the pouches. They completely tune out the background noise of rolling, pinning, licking, and yelling that is being traded between the two and delve into the entry.

"She's got burning eyebrows... What's up with that?" Sir Cumference asks.

"I don't know, I didn't draw it! Seems like it'd make it hard to see, though. I mean, have you ever stared at a fire? If that was right above my eyebrows I couldn't see shite. Dry your eyes out it would." Truman rants.

"Y-yeah... Would, wouldn't it? And their b-bra..." Sir Cumference shudders, wiping his greathelm again. "How's it even holding on? Glue?"

"...Mamono mana probably. It's always Mamono mana." Truman mutters. "And why's it she got black everything, black claws, black fur, black skin, but she's got white teeth? You either go full contrast or not at all!"

"That sounds stupid. She's got to have white teeth, or she'd be ugly. You don't want to kiss rotten teeth do you?" Sir Cumference asks.

"I don't want to kiss any monster. I'm not a heretic, Sir Cumference." Truman glares at the fatty skeptically, sighing and flipping the page. "Alright, let's just read the damn thing."

Truman's expression starts with confusion as he goes over the entry, narrowing his eyes and gritting his teeth half-way through. He gives the writing a cursory scan, looking back to the top then skimming through again when nothing useful comes to light.

Sir Cumference on the other hand is 'adjusting' his tabard and breathing heavily through his helmet, his soppy voice whistling through the small holes in his helm.

"This is all useless! Sex, sex, how great it is to be with them, sex, untamable... What am I supposed to do with this shite? This is supposed to be a world guide not a circle-jerk!" He yells at the book. "I want to GET RID OF HER! If I wanted to shag the damn thing I sure as hell wouldn't be reading this book! We get it, she's a rapist, now how do I stop her!?"

"...I don't think yelling at it will make the book change, s'already written sir." The fatty makes a good point, flipping the page in Truman's hands back to the picture with escalated, anticipating breath.

"...Just- Okay. Whatever. Pointless book..." He pushes the encyclopedia away from his grasp and into Sir Cumference's waiting arms.

"Actually this encyclopedia was illustrated by Kenkou Cross." Sir Cumference retorts, arms wrapped around the book and his finger raised matter-of-factly.

"...What?" Truman asks.

The hellhound shoves Knight Gaben onto his back, straddling his groin and grinding her crotch across his plate girdle. The only thing keeping her at bay is his grip on her collar, which forces her jaw shut and keeps her a decent distance away from his chest. She desperately claws at his tabard, ripping the cloth and exposing his skin with but a small trickle of blood splattering on the chain. She's forceful, wild and dangerously violent when resisted. All that can be heard is the ferocious barking and roaring climbing up the hellhound's rigid throat.

Knight Gaben reaches for his belt and reveals a stick, gritting his teeth and delivering his epic one-liner. "You want to fight like a dog eh? Well then, FETCH!" Raising his hand above his head, he tosses the stick toward the back of the cave and away from his comrades, out to a place where they could escape.

...

The hellhound stops swinging, her eyes going wide and jaw dropping with great offense. She settles her rear in the Knight's lap, crossing her arms and just glaring at him with a scolding aggression. "Alright, you know what man? That was racist."

The peanut gallery of Sir Cumference and Truman raise their brows in surprise at the hellhound's words, their attention fully returned to the scene before them.

Knight Gaben's grip on her collar falters, his hands shifted behind him to somewhat angle himself to a seated position. He stares at the girl with an incredulous wave of emotions and expressions passing through him, the most consistent one confusion.

The cave is oddly silent, the sounds of fighting and yelling now completely vacant. Nothing but the ambiance of whistling wind from the mouth of the cave and drips of water running down the spires overhead to replace the combat overture.

The hellhound remains indignified and insulted, chastising the knight with her stare.

"Racist!?" Knight Gaben scoffs, eying her over with a contrastingly angry scrutiny. "You came running at us like a rabid wolf, trying to tear my shirt off and probably rape me-"

The hellhound groans, interrupting him with her coarse and gurgly voice. She rolls her eyes and looks away, throwing her paws into the air. "Here we go again with the stereotypes! 'You were going to rape me', ugh. I swear, bigots..." She crosses her arms again, not even bothering to look at the knight.

Knight Gaben's glare intensifies, motioning to the tears on his chest and her position on his girdle with an open palm. "Alright- Alright then, explain why you're sitting on my crotch right now. Why were you trying to take my shirt off? Huh? Got one for that?"

The vapor trails around the hellhound's eyes flare along with the redness in her dusky cheeks. "Just because someone tries to tear off your shirt and straddles you does not mean they want to rape you! What if I was trying to kill you, huh? You racist!" The hellhound retorts, puffing up her cheeks and judging him again with her steamy stare, the flames of battle being quelled by the argument.

"Like that's much better!" Knight Gaben squeaks.

"I-I mean, she's not wrong though... You sort of did a-assume that she'll r-rape you, even before you got a-attacked." Says Sir Cumference from the sidelines, Truman nodding beside him in agreement.

Knight Gaben looks to his two men broken-hearted, completely betrayed by them in the midst of battle. The Hellhound actually seems rather pleased, smirking triumphantly at being supported by the knight's own men.

"Okay okay, fine. Maybe I did assume you were going to rape me, so I'm sorry. However! You were attempting to cause me harm, so it doesn't really matter, does it? Now, let's try this again." Gaben reasons.

"Hmph, real shitty apology but whatever. Where were we?" She asks, leaning forward and placing her paws on his chest.

Knight Gaben returns the gesture by grasping ahold of her collar and laying his hand atop her wrist. Once the combatants are settled, their expressions suddenly shift to grit teeth and narrowed eyes, the feminine pair reigniting. The thrashing restarts and their grips double, the pair rolling back and forth in an attempt to genuinely trade dominance. Chainlinks fly brutally from Knight Gaben's chest as the hellhound's ferocious strikes rip through his armor. They grunt, they pant, they roar and groan at one another in the struggle.

Knight Gaben manages to get the upper hand on a feigned turn, rolling one way to build momentum with the hellhound's counterbalancing lean, then suddenly switching directions and landing on her back. He holds her paws down, leaning forward to apply all of his weight. Struggle and fatigue is clear in his features, sweat rolling down his dirty cheek. "Heel, girl!"

The hellhound huffs again and surrenders the struggle, letting her hands be pinned, but passive aggressively glancing off to the side as though she can't bear looking at Knight Gaben.

"What? What this time!?" Knight Gaben calls, releasing her and throwing his hands up for a moment before slamming them on the dirt beside her.

"You did it again! That dog joke was totally out of line and offensive!" She complains, pointing a finger at him but refusing to lift her back from the floor.

Knight Gaben rolls his eyes and throws his head back upon his shoulders with a groan. He takes a moment to think with closed eyes, rubbing them through the lids with his gloved hand. Turning his gaze down upon her once more, he starts his counter-argument. "You're LITERALLY a dog! You are a hellhound! Hell. Hound. Hound of hell. You are a dog!" He motions back and forth between the air to separate 'hell' and 'hound', the face of an aggrivated school teacher untrained in handling special ed students paitned upon him; pure frustration with a hint of forced tolerance.

"Oh my god- You did not just say that. You did not just say that to me..." The hellhound envenoms her words with disbelief, chiding the poor Knight Gaben and thus elevating herself to the moral highground.

Truman and Sir Cumference gasp in unison. Truman places his hand over his broken bascinet to conceal his giggle, while Sir Cumference just looks down and shakes his head, ashamed.

"Really!?" Knight Gaben asks, turning his head toward his two 'team-mates' and exposing to them the sourness of his expression.

The room is silent for a moment, the hellhound having turned the other cheek to passive aggressively ignore the Knight Gaben while his comrades awkwardly look about the cave in a haze of disapproving nervousness. Throughout it all, Knight Gaben grows more irritated with being singled out.

"Okay- Fine. I'm sorry this time, that one was probably legitimately insulting." Says Knight Gaben.

The hellhound sighs, keeping her eyes off to the side and her cheeks thickened with spiteful judgement. She exhales for a pause, "...Okay, once more though and I'm leaving." She warns, glaring at him.

Knight Gaben nods and places his hands gently around her neck, to which the Hellhound raises her brows in surprise, which quickly shifts to irritation.

"Hey! That's not where your hands were, they were here!" She forces his hands off her collar and interlaces her fingers with his, the most lewd of gestures an insult to the proud knight.

"We were not holding hands!" Knight Gaben huffs, trying to unlace his fingers with a weak flail of his arms in a spaghettish motion.

"I can't make you hold my wrists! I was just-" Her arms knock into her knockers from the wicked flailing, her stance changing to protect her bust with a stronger grip and a hunch of her shoulders. "S-stop! Fucking stop that!" She cries. Her response is not to merely release his hands, but instead try to keep him still.

"Let go! Let go of me you sacreligious harlot! My hands are for slaying and sandwich holding! You will not sully them with your filthy doo-... Hands. Your hands." Knight Gaben catches, his flailing ceased due to the cold, shameful mistake caught dead in his throat and a deep red creeping over his pale face.

"OH MY GOD YOU ALMOST DID IT AGAIN YOU FUCKING RACIST SCUM!" The Hellhound yells, her ranting and raving completely blotted out by Sir Cumference and Truman's attention deficit disorder.

They look upon the scene, disregarding the words and instead leaning between one another to discuss the nuances of dog-racism.

"I mean, it's technically species-ist. They aren't a race of humans. They're demons!" Truman argues, looking to the current ongoings of the fight; Knight Gaben is being smacked about by the hellhound and yelled at for being a racist, as has been demonstrated thrice. They are currently caught in a high-stakes slap war. If one's hand is not knocked away from the others early, they might be struck in the face, which would irritate the victim.

Sir Cumference lazily watches the fight without his full attention, giving his rebuttal in return. "You can't dehumanize them, Truman. That's the first step to marginalizing a group."

Truman scoffs. "You can't dehumanize that which wasn't human in the first place. They're demons, end of discussion. Besides, I think we've let this fight go on long enough." Truman reaches into his pouch, drawing from within a long, brass mouthpiece. He lifts his bashed bascinet and lines the whistle with his lips, smacking them a few times to wetten the coarse, pink flesh. Once properly lubricated, he bloats his cheeks like a chipmunk until they're red, then blows a mighty and glorious 'reee' through the metallic kazoo.

The hellhound suddenly stops fighting to cover her sensetive ears, gritting her teeth and clenching her eyes shut. A whine of intense pain escapes her as she rolls her head away from the noise, slumping her back and trying to pull her knees to her abdomen to complete the fetal position.

Fortunately for Knight Gaben, his ears are too dull to pick up the frequencies, therefore he only hears the dry buzz of high-pitched air escaping Truman's bloated lips. He stops fighting the hellhound, letting his hands hover in the air as he checks his companions. Noticing that the whistle seems only to affect the hellhound, Knight Gaben decides to take a sweeping glance to ensure no one is looking, then takes advantage of the hellhound's semi-incapacitation by thwacking her straight in the nose with his open palm.

The hellhound's face recoils from the impact, completely caught off guard. The whistle comes to an end with Truman's breath being expended, the hellhound immediately crying out, "What the hell! You BLINDSIDED ME! You bastard!"

"No I didn't." Knight Gaben retorts, scooting off the hellhound's abdomen to gain some distance should she try and retaliate. He dusts off his armor for a second, standing in the center of the cave with shifty eyes and a guilty purse of his lips.

Truman and Sir Cumference approach the downed hellhound from Knight Gaben's side, looming over her with intent to inspect. She's still writhing on the floor, gritting her teeth in pain. Her ears flick every so often, a possible reaction to the throbbing in her unfortunately well-attuned drums.

"Wait a s-second." Sir Cumference starts, looking to his fellow knights. "She's been speaking common the whole time. Can't we just, y'know... U-use democracy instead?"

"Democracy? Like a vote?" Truman asks, glancing at the hellhound as she recovers.

She sits up from the floor, rubbing her ears with a pitiful expression of defeat on her face.

Knight Gaben nods to both his companions, then kneels before the hellhound. "I think democracy is a fine idea. What say you, hound of hell?"

The hellhound blinks, sticking a thick finger in her ear to try rubbing the tinnitus away. "W-what? A vote?" She repeats, just to make sure she heard right. Her suspicions are confirmed as all three of the knights nod in return. After cleaning out her ears of remaining damage the best she can, the hellhound glares skeptically at the three. "Okay- So there's three of you and one of me. If we take a vote, you're all going to vote against me! This is a set-up! Who fights someone then decides to call a vote!? What are you planning!"

"Oh no, we all hate eachother!" Truman argues.

"Absolutely, Fatty would've eaten you by now if we weren't here, and Truman literally does the opposite of anything I do out of spite." Says Knight Gaben.

"Let's just forget about the part where you tried to SACRIFICE me to her..." Truman grumbles, crossing his arms with a rattle of plate.

"Right... So as you can see, it's essentially every man for himself."

Albeit untrusting of the three, she can't help but lower her guard at their insanity. She decides the vote is worth a try and begrudgingly nods. "Alright, fine. That seems like the more sensible and civilized methods. I'm willing to talk things out, but if this is a joke, we're done here!" The hellhound is nearing her limit, the fiery girl just about to lose her hard-earned 30 day anger management chip. It's clear she's using all her might to keep her cool.

Knight Gaben scoffs into his role, "Ho! Threats won't work in THIS court missie. We'll let you off with a warning though, since you're not a civilized creature."

Her eye twitches, the vein in her forehead bulging forth for just a second. "Yeah. I thought so." She says, disappointed and irritated. The hellhound stands up and holds her paws out to the three. "Just- Look... Forget this ever happened. I'm just gonna go home."

"What? Do you hate freedom or something? Hear that, boys? Hellhounds hate freedom!" Knight Gaben taunts as she skulks toward the back of the cave, tired and somewhat saddened by the fruitless events.

Knight Gaben makes a sour face as she disappears into the dusk, her fur blending with the shadows. "I hate dogs..."

The other two merely shake their head, looking to the light shining from the mouth of the cave. The storm has passed, the dusts settled to the ground and the treeless mountain path completely clear in terms of vision. After a short rest in the cave, they can make it to the next town without quarrel.

The End.