Anon: Vampony Hunter! The Wild Hunt (1/2)

>Night the Wild Hunt in Equestria

Companion image is here: http://victor-whiterock.deviantart.com/art/Carnelian-TheWildHunt-409973433

>You are Anonymous: Vampire Hunter!
>And right now you are doing your best to terrify a small group of talking, technicolor ponies.
“...that’s when the girl noticed the message written on the bathroom mirror. It said, ‘Ponies can lick too.’ The end.”
>You look at the gathered campers.
>Applejack and her five friends sit across from you around the fire.
>Sandwiched between them are the Cutie Mark Crusaders with Applejack’s dog laying at their feet.
>Carnelian and yours truly sit on the other side of the fire since tonight you’re the storytelling ‘guests of honor’.
>You’re pleased to note that everyone has a disturbed look on their face from your story.
>Not bad, considering the fact that you edited out the part where the girl finds her murdered pet dog.
>You had felt that including that part would be a bit gratuitous considering your audience.
>“Wow, Applejack!” Rainbow Dash exclaims. “When you said Anon knew some scary stories you weren’t kidding.”
>“Heh, yah. W-well that’s why I said we should bring him and Nel along. Can’t have a camp-out without scary stories right?”
>The other ponies all nod silently, except for Fluttershy who looks as though she might pass out.
>You’re sure she’ll get over it.
>“Ooh ooh, who’s next?” Pinkie Pie asks.
>She points at Carnelian. “Why don’t you tell us a story Nel?”
>Rainbow agrees. “Yah, I’ll bet they have lots of scary stories where you’re from!”
>The bat pony sitting beside you looks deep in thought.
>“The thing is I never really paid much attention to those kinds of stories growing up. Let me think…”
>As you wait on your batty assistant to drum up a spooky tale you hear a sound in the distance.
>“What was that?” cries Rarity.
>“Ah, it was just some critter howlin’ at the moon. Probably a timber wolf over in the Everfree.” Applejack assures her. “Shoot, on a clear night like tonight you can hear ‘em for miles away.”
>“And they won’t bother us?” Scootaloo asks nervously.
>“Nah, they don’t cross over into Whitetail Woods. ‘Sides, the fire’d scare ‘em away if they did show up.”
>Everyone sighs in relief.
>You suppose Applejack knows what she’s talking about.
>However, you can’t help but think that that howl didn’t sound like a wolf.
>It sounded more like a baying hound.
>Carnelian interrupts your thoughts.
>“Alright, I got one.”
>She leans in towards the fire.
>“Since it’s almost Nightmare Night I figure I’ll tell a story that we always tell back home this time of year.”
>“It’s the legend of the Wild Hunt.”
>The Wild Hunt?
>Surely this can’t be the same legend you’re familiar with from Earth.
>“A long time ago there was a mighty lord of the forest. A stag named Greenhart.
>He ruled the forest for many years. And even though he was stern, he was still fair to all the creatures in his woods.
>Now, the one thing that had never come to his forest before were hunters. So, one day when some gryphons showed up, he was curious as to what they were up too.
>‘What do you in my domain?’ Greenhart asked the gryphons.
>‘We come to hunt.’ replied their leader.
>‘And what does that mean?’ Greenhart inquired.
>The gryphons laughed. ‘You don’t know what hunting is? Hunting means we find prey, track it down, and kill it.’
>The forest lord was aghast. ‘Why would you do such a thing?’
>The gryphon eyed him hungrily. ‘Some hunt to feed themselves. But us? We find magnificent prey, and when we kill’em we take their heads home as trophies to decorate our lodges.’
>The great stag looked around him.
>He was almost surrounded and knew that these beasts meant to make a trophy out of him.
>He immediately shot through the gap in their circle.
>The chase was on!
>Greenhart knew his forest as well as any creature alive, but the gryphons were smart and could also fly.
>They had no trouble pacing him.
>If he had been a younger buck he might have run himself to exhaustion, but with age comes wisdom, and he knew that if he wanted to survive he would have to take the fight to them.
>Quick as thought the stag entered a river and waded upstream.
>Then he leapt up on land again through a thick hedge.
>His closest pursuer had to slow down to mark where his prey might have left the water.
>While the gryphon scoured the banks, Greenhart looped back and got behind his pursuer.
>Just as the hunter passed beneath a small ridge, the forest lord pounced!
>He crashed into the gryphon with all his weight. The bird-beast tried to find purchase, but the rocks were slippery.
>Greenhart had no problem holding the hunters head under the water until he ceased moving.
>Then, not pausing to look over his fallen foe, the stag took off.
>A few moments later he could hear the enraged squawks of the dead gryphon’s companions.
>They had surely found their friend.
>Similar scenarios played themselves out twice more that day.
>The second gryphon met his end when the lord of the forest crashed a rock down on his head while the hunter past under a fallen log, following a false trail.
>The final hunter, the leader, suffered the bloodiest fate of all.
>As the gryphon blindly crashed between bushes, furious at the death of his comrades, Greenhart charged from the side.
>The old buck had been waiting for his enemy and surprised him by putting his antlers in the gryphon’s guts.
>The bird-beast tried to fight back but it was over.
>He slumped to the ground as Greenhart slid his bloody horns out of his foe's belly.
>As he lay gasping his last, the gryphon looked up at his would be prey.
>‘It’s… it’s a shame you were born a deer. You would have made an excellent hunter…’
>And with that, he died.
>Greenhart looked down at his foe’s body.
>He considered the gryphon’s words.
>The more he thought about them the angrier he got.
>‘A hunter?’ he thought. ‘A HUNTER?!’
>‘They are the ones who brought this senseless slaughter to my woods. And if it takes blood to stop them, then SO BE IT!’
>After that, Greenhart was a changed deer.
>Any outsider that came to his woods was tracked down and killed.
>Some said that they even saw Greenhart eat the flesh of his enemies, like the gryphons that originally drove him mad.
>This went on for years and by that time the lord of the forest had gained followers.
>Beasts of the wood who had become as blood thirsty as their master.
>Then, one night, Greenhart’s party struck on a trail.
>It looked like a large pony had entered his forest!
>Skilled as they were, the band of creatures chased their quarry until they had almost crossed the entire forest.
>Finally, at the edge of a glade, they caught sight of the intruder.
>A tall pony was enjoying a drink from a small stream.
>She was hard to make out given her dark coat, but she seemed in no hurry.
>Though she was slim, Greenhart’s followers hesitated to approach her.
>The lord of the forest was not afraid, however, and addressed his victim.
>‘What do you in my domain?’ he bellowed.
>‘I am merely a traveler passing through these woods.’ she replied evenly.
>‘Well, now you shall die, for all that enter these woods are my prey.’
>‘Prey?’ she seemed puzzled. ‘I do not see the fangs of a wolf in your mouth, nor the beak of a gryphon on your muzzle. Why do you speak of prey as though you hunt other creatures?’
>‘Because it pleases me to chase down those that offend me. You think I need sharp teeth to consume my enemies? You shall soon learn how wrong you are!’
>With that, Greenhart began to charge.
>‘FOOL!’ the pony reared up.
>From her back spread two huge wings and on her head was a great spiral horn.
>Even Greenhart was taken aback by the mares’s terrible presence.
>‘We would have spared thee this night for we know that every creature hath the right to defend itself and its kin. But thou, beast. Thou wouldst go against thy nature and consume flesh? All your company shall be cast out from these woods and you shall wander the face of the land forever. Foals shall hear the baying of your hounds and they will know of the sin thou hast committed.’
>From that night on the wicked stag and his band were cursed to roam the world. They could visit any forest but their own.
>Greenhart, the exiled lord of the forest, became known as Blackhart the Lord of the Wild Hunt.
>And even now, around the time of Nightmare Night, you can hear the hounds of the Wild Hunt as they chase the moon across the sky, because it reminds them of the one who cursed them.
>The end.”
>Huh.
>That was pretty bloody story.
>You look over at the other ponies.
>The older mares look taken aback.
>The Cutie Mark Crusaders look amazed.
>“Wow. That was sooo cool!” they say in unison.
>How do they sync up like that?
>“Well that was… somthin’.” mutters Applejack.
>“So let me get this straight.” says Rainbow Dash. “The leader of this cursed hunting party is a deer. A deer?!”
>“Yes, Rainbow.” Princess Sparkle rolls her eyes. “The legend of the Wild Hunt is centuries old and in every version the leader of the hunt is a stag.”
>“That’s ridiculous!”
>Carnelian looks uncomfortable. “Ms. Dash, please, you shouldn’t make fun of the Wild Hunt. I know it sounds like an old pony’s tale, but my grandfather actually saw it for himself.”
>“Really?” the Princess’s eyes began to twinkle. “That’s amazing! I’ve never heard of a living pony who has actually claimed to have seen it.”
>“Well, back in Hollow Shades there are a couple of ponies who say they’ve seen it.”
>“Baloney!” Rainbow huffs. “A bunch of ghosts running around hunting the moon with a deer for their leader. That’s silly.”
>Just then, a howl pierces the air.
>It’s the same baying as before.
>And it sounds closer.
>Everyone jerks.
>Even Rainbow looks nervous.
>Pinkie Pie is the first to recover.
>“Well I thought that was a great story. You told it really well!”
>“Thanks, but I’ve heard it so many times it practically tells itself.” Carnelian admits.
>“Still,” the Princess says, “there were details in your version that I’ve never heard before. Was it really a party of gryphons that drove Blackhart to madness?”
>“Um, well, that‘s what the story sa…”
>“It were gryphons indeed, little pony.” a rough voice croaks from the shadows.
>This time everybody jumps.
>Including you.
>“Who goes there!” cries Rainbow.
>She assumes a fighting pose while the other mares get between the Cutie Mark Crusaders and the unknown voice.
>“Ah, now. I’m just an old bird travelin’ this path. I heard ye talk about the Hunt and stopped ta listen a spell.”
>Into the light of the fire steps what you can only assume is a gryphon.
>You’ve never seen one before and this one looks rough.
>His feathers are mottled and faded.
>He has saddle bags and various tack, but it’s all in horrible disrepair.
>Most disturbing are his eyes.
>Even in the dim light you can see that they are clouded and milky.
>You wonder if he’s blind.
>“Complements on yer tale tellin’ lass. I’ve not heard tha’ story told so well in many a moon.” The ancient creature gives a small bow towards Carnelian.
>The other ponies are at something of a loss, but eventually Applejack’s natural hospitality wins out.
>“Would ya’… um, like somethin’ to drink mister?”
>The wizened old bird grins broadly.
>How does he smile with a beak?
>“Thank ye lass! Tha’s very kind.”
>He trundles over to one of the logs surrounding the fire and sags down onto it.
>Applejack hands him a canteen.
>The gryphon takes one sip and his eyes widen in surprise.
>“Bless me soul! Cider. Real cider! Ah, yer a kind lass to waste such good stuff on the likes o’ me.”
>Now Applejack looks embarrassed.
>“Ah, shucks it’s nothin’.”
>The Princess interrupts. ”Excuse me, mister…?”
>“Ye can call me Old Bird, ‘cause that’s what I am.” He cackles at his own joke.
>“Yes, Mister Bird. Were you saying that you agreed that it was gryphons that drove Blackhart to his crimes?”
>“Oh, cert’nly. The tale of the Mad Stag and his Lunatics. I know the story very well. But ye left out a part, lass.” He looks at your bat companion.
>“The gryphons that Blackhart slew. That first hunting party? The Moon marked their souls as well. They ride with their slayer. Servin’ him like dogs as punishment for what they did. Hopin’ that one day they’ll be free o’ this world. Even if it means damnation in the next.”
>He looks around the group. Nobody says a word.
>Old Bird takes another drink from the canteen.
>The hairs on the back of your neck are standing on end.
>Your unexpected guest doesn’t seem dangerous, but there is something definitely some off about him.
>So when Applejack’s dog, Winona, approaches him in a friendly manner, you are a little surprised.
>The tattered gryphon looks fondly at the canine and lightly scratches her head with his talons.
>“Ah, there’s a good dog. Yours?” He looks at Applejack.
>“Uh huh.”
>“Hmm, a fine dog. Not as fine as the Mad Stag’s hounds o’ course, but there’s no shame in that.”
>“Uh, you mean that ghost deer has pet dogs?” Rainbow asks incredulously.
>“Not pets, lass. Hunting hounds. Fiercest ye ever saw.”
>“Pfft. Yah, right! All the deer I’ve ever met would scatter if they saw Winona, let alone ‘fierce hounds’.”
>“Rainbow, that’s just plain rude!” scolded Applejack.
>“Tha’s alright lass. If your brave friend here saw one of the Mad Stag’s pups I’ll bet she would be singin’ a different tune.”
>Rainbow flared. “Are you calling me a coward?”
>“Not at all, lass. It’s just that the hounds o’ the Hunt are the finest breed anywhere. So full o’ piss an’ thunder that even takin’ care o’ a single one would be a task for a real hero.”
>You can’t help but feel that Old Bird is baiting Rainbow Dash something fierce.
>Looking around you can tell that her friends are thinking the same exact thing.
>Fluttershy reaches a gentle hoof towards her friend.
>“Now, now.” mutters the gentle pony. “I sure he doesn’t mean anything by it…”
>Rainbow Dash shrugs her off. ”Oh yah! Well I bet I could take care of one those dogs easy. I’ve fought a dragon after all.”
>“Really?” Old Bird stands up with a speed that contradicts his seeming age.
>He walks over to the braggart pony. “Are ye sure ye wouldn’t mind?”
>Oh, no.
>You now realize just what kind of trap Rainbow Dash has walked into.
>Trying to say something, anything, you realize that you can’t.
>It’s as though you are observing the whole proceedings in a very vivid dream, unable to direct your own actions.
>Glancing over at the Princess, you hope that she can do something.
>Unfortunately, it looks like the same force that holds you bound is also affecting her and you can see her straining to move as well.
>You manage to glance down and Carnelian.
>She's frozen as well.
>And then it’s too late.
>“Uh, yah, sure I could do it. Whatever.”
>“Marvelous!” Old Bird claps his talons together. “Well, I better be movin’ along now.”
>It is a much sprightlier gryphon that hands the now empty canteen back to Applejack.
>“Bless ye lass for lettin’ me taste somethin’ so wonderful again.”
>He turns towards Dash. “Now it won’t be fer that long, just until sun up. See that ye bring him back before dawn.”
>“Huh, what?” sputters the confused mare.
>You desperately want to lay hands on that gryphon but instead you watch as he ambles to the edge of the clearing and disappears into the shadows.
>As soon as he is out of sight you feel the strange paralysis leave you.
>At the very same moment you, Carnelian, and Princess Sparkle yell, “Rainbow Dash, you IDIOT!”
>Apparently the Cutie Mark Crusaders aren’t the only ones who can synchronize.
>Before you can explain to the foolish pony what she has done you hear a loud snuffling sound from the same direction in which Old Bird departed.
>As one, you all turn to behold the biggest, blackest dog you’ve ever seen bound into the glen.
>It’s slavering jaws look as though they could snap a pony in half and its eyes seem to glow red in the firelight.
>The great shaggy hound raises it head and bays at the sky.
>The sound is deafening.
>It lowers its head and starts sniffing its way towards the mares.
>They all scatter and it leaps towards its target.
>Fortunately, said target is hovering about twenty feet in the air just out of reach of the black beast.
>”Why is it following me?!” cries Dash.
“Because you agreed to look after it you dum-dum!” you shout.
>“Huh?”
>Princess Sparkle yells at Rainbow. “That’s one of Blackhart’s hounds. You agreed to take care of it and now you have to until dawn. It’s a magical agreement.”
>“Till dawn? And then he just goes away?”
>“No,” Carnelian is shivering beside you.
>You don’t blame her.
>She continues, “You have to return the hound by sun up. If you don’t…”
>“Yah? If I don’t?!”
>“Then you have to take care of it for a whole year until the Hunt come around again.”
>The magically obligated mare looks down at the demonic hound.
>It crouches beneath her, looking as though it either wants to lick her face or eat her.
>“Oh, ponyfeathers.”

To be continued…