The Man, The Beast, The Huntsman

--- Jon Whitaker ---

The (false) Beast’s gaze down at him from atop the Victorian building, the moonlight from above falling upon it in some twisted mockery of divine providence as it gazed down at the human ant glaring from the darkness.

A mad grin spread on the corpse’s face, far wider and with far more teeth than anything a human could manage. It’s bubbling laughter carried on the wind spreading and wrapping all in its corruption as it sought to drive them into the depths of insanity.

He merely growled, his own insanity demanding he rip the corpse’s throat out.

If it could, the corpse seemed to smile even wider.

Silence echoed around them, as the stillness of anticipation fell upon the streets as if the world itself was waiting, watching for the two beasts to begin, to see which of them was the greater monster of madness.

There was no sudden signal to start, and yet in the same moment both moved as if their competing insanities demanded they be the first to act.

He was already three steps away by the time the corpse was in the air, and halfway down the street with his hands in his pack by the time it hit the pavement with enough force to shake the ground beneath his feet and leave a crater in the stonework.

Skidding on his heel, he drew an arrow back on his bow and shot it at the corpse, before repeating with the other two arrows he’d gripped between his fingers. One struck the (false) Beast in the shoulder while the second missed by the corpse’s jittery movements, and the third was snatched out of the air by the corpse’s roots as it ripped the first out of its shoulder and snapped both in two.

Laughter echoed on the wind as the corpse’s numerous eyes stayed locked onto him, giving him its full attention as the (false) Beast ripped a nearby lampost from the pavement with its roots, before flinging it at him with enough force to shatter any bone it hit.

Which is why he ducked low, taking two steps towards his adversary and letting the post fly over his head before tumbling across the street without pursuing him or cornering himself against a building wall.

The beast wanted to fight.

But the man had a plan.

The beast stepped back and the man took over tossing a common molotov over his shoulder as he turned to race down the street knowing that it would annoy the corpse at most if the dungeon rules weren’t in his favor.

A hiss tore through the air, telling him that while it wasn’t enough to hurt it that didn’t mean the corpse liked it either. The rumbling of earth that followed told him of the monstrosity pursuing him. Just like he wanted.

When the corpse rounded the corner, the accursed creature crossed the first of the ‘surprises’ he’d set up when hunting for the thing, letting the corpse know that he was leading it somewhere while thinking that the various little traps along the way were that somewhere.

A set of trip wires that’d catch a human in the throat, instead caught the corpse near its waist causing it to stumble even as its weight and strength ripped the line’s anchors out.

With the corpse staggered for even a second, he took advantage and fired off another arrow, this one coated in the juices of several anima enhanced poison plants he’d gotten from Blackwell. And while these normally would do nothing against the black blood of the Beast, he hoped that similarly to fire and light the fact that the (false) beast was a dungeon construct would weaken its immunity just enough for the poison to cloud the monstrosity’s mind as their chase wore on.

The corpse taunted him and his tricks, goading him to attack as the insanity in the air weighed upon his mind and tried to force the beast inside his head into action.

The beast would not be moved.

Shaking his head he fired off two more arrows, earning a laugh and a glare from the corpse as their chase resumed once more, this time peppered with the rest of the surprises he’d quickly hidden along the path back to the others.

From atop the buildings the scavengers from the mist became far more prominent, as entire packs of them chased from the rooftops, the (false) beast’s troops just waiting for an opportunity to box him in. An opportunity he delayed as long as he could by splitting his attention between the corpse and its minions as he fired arrows at both, with the last of his molotovs tied to the ones shot above in hopes of scattering their amassing horde.

Sadly this was not enough.

Throughout the dungeon city there were bridges similar to where he’d fought the blasphemous beast, each tied to another district where one of the keys to the final boss would be found, and one of which he’d intended to cross while dropping molotovs to force the (false) beast to follow him through a long trail of fire.

Unfortunately with his molotovs spent, this bridge did little more than limit his own maneuverability to a near straight line as the corpse and its army followed from behind. With his path limited, he was forced to watch as the corrupted scavengers put on a sudden burst of speed, rushing past him before leaping onto the bridge and caging him in with a half a dozen of their emaciated forms in front of him while a dozen more watched on from the rails and cables of the bridge, waiting for a chance to rip him apart with their claws and fangs.

Looking around he couldn’t help but frown as he noted his disadvantage, before as the bridge behind him shook and the (false) beast began to slow while spouting more of its taunts, he decided he didn’t have time for this.

The beast lunged for the nearest scavenger, before punching it across the jaw and grabbing it by its throat at which point he slid his knife into his hand and stabbed it into the corrupted monster’s skull.

As he kicked away the disintegrating monster a second scavenger tried to grab at him with its long bony arms, only for him to grab it by its arm, break its knee, and remove said limb in a matter of seconds, before round housing it across the face and breaking its neck with a violent snap.

From above one of the scavengers on the rails decided to try its luck and leapt at him in an attempt to tackle him to the ground so they could swarm him, but before the monster could even touch him he’d already grabbed it by wrapping an arm around its neck and another around its torso, letting him throw it towards the other scavengers on the bridge breaking them apart before they could rush him.

Seeing a fourth scavenger trying to sneak up on him, he threw the second’s dissolving arm at the monster’s face, forcing it to stumble back as the distraction left it open for him to run up the construct’s body causing it to slowly collapse back beneath his weight and letting him stomp its skull against the pavement.

As he stood, he grabbed his ax from his pack and swung the blade up catching the fifth scavenger across the chest and making it take a step back, where the ax’s downswing caught the corrupted construct in the shoulder as his blade bit deep enough to get stuck, and force him to kick the monster away to free it.

The sixth scavenger swung at him with claws like knives, only to receive one through its heart and a second through its back before an arm sent the second knife piercing into the corrupted construct’s heart as well.

With a snarl he turned to the final scavenger blocking his way and grabbed it by its shoulder before forcing it onto its knees and hacking away at it with his ax, the second strike digging deeper than the first, and the third removing the monster’s head altogether.

Panting and ready to keep fighting if he must, he turned his eyes onto the rest of the scavengers watching them back away from his glare.

Insanity whispered on the winds, haunting in its sweetness and temptation, as it begged for the loss of control, to give into instinct, to allow it to take over.

The beast’s glare snapped to the (false) beast’s corpse halfway across the bridge and a growl bubbled out of his throat as he remembered just how badly he wanted to rip the corpse’s throat out with his teeth.

His eyes twitched around the bridge, reminding him that he couldn’t take this army on, not here, not as he was equipped, and definitely not without his light by his side.

The beast shook his head hating that logic, before giving one last glare to the corpse and turning as the man forced himself to push through his emotions and continue with his plan, no matter how badly he wanted to see the corpse bleed.

A fleeting laughter filled the air behind him as the rumbling once more began to pick up speed as the (false) beast resumed its chase in earnest, amused by the perceived war of his madness and sanity, not quite realizing they were working as one.

Getting the (false) beast to follow him from there took little effort, even without any more arrows or molotovs to fire at the corpse and its corrupted followers, they still pursued him, seeing him as the only true threat to them in the dungeon. Something he was sure the (false) beast would change its mind about soon enough as it followed him into a small gated square with a large burning effigy of the bridge’s blasphemous beast.

Seeing the square the corpse’s numerous eyes narrowed, knowing him far too well to risk stumbling into what was clearly a kill box for whomever entered it unprepared. Or at least clear to anyone who noticed that he walked into an area with only one entrance and exit while being chased by a small army.

The corpse’s attention suddenly snapped to the roof above where its scavengers had likely discovered the pack of kobolds lying in wait with over a dozen molotovs, -including a couple from his special blend- just waiting for the chance to bombard the (false) beast threatening their home.

An amused laugh chuckle carried on the wind as the (false) beast raised a single finger into the air and waved it back and forth before its numerous roots began to dig into the walls of the buildings next to it and carry it towards the skirmish.

Barely holding back a growl as that part of his plan collapsed, he rushed to a section of the buildings that he could more easily climb before making his way to the rooftop if at a slower rate than the (false) beast he was racing.

And as he finally reached his destination he couldn’t help but grimace as he watched the (false) beast corrupt one of the kobolds, a fate arguably worse than death, as the twitching reptile was dropped to the floor before rolling over and hissing at their brethren with bleeding black eyes.

He swallowed hard before taking a molotov from one of the horrified kobolds and putting the poor girl out of her misery so that none of her fellows would have to live with that stain on their hands. (Another drop was barely noticeable within his own.)

After clearing so many floors with them, organizing the kobolds and keeping them focused on the scavengers rather than the (false) beast was an almost too easy feat. The dungeon monsters trusting him to see them through despite how far out of his control this whole thing had already gotten.

Which is why the man forced himself to stay focus and not lose his head, instead focusing on the corpse watching him in amusement as the winds continued to whisper its taunts and even more scavengers began to crawl up the sides of the building.

He wanted to focus on the kobolds and the scavengers, help them wear down the (false) beast’s forces and keep them alive through this nightmare, but…

The beast’s blade bit into a creeping root that had tried to sneak up on him from behind, cutting through it and leaving it to bleed black ichor onto the ground even as the corpse’s smile grew wider. Both of them knowing that this fight had to be between the two of them and no one else lest the (false) beast turn his comrades against him or the corpse lose his attention and growing insanity.

What’s more given the way he had to adjust his footing to keep balance on the slightly slanted roofs, the fact that his path was relatively limited without any true obstacles to hide or defend behind, and that if he strayed from said path he was in for a nasty fall, the (false) beast hadn’t moved to the rooftops so much as to deal with the kobolds as it was to force him out of his prepared kill box and onto a ground more favorable for it.

Especially if it thought he couldn’t see those roots creeping along just beneath the roof’s edge.

A quick molotov towards the edge solved that problem, earning an amused laugh from the corpse as the flames danced around its numerous roots.

And a thrown knife towards its body solved that problem, earning an actual grimace from the corpse as the blade pierced one of its eyes.

Tilting its head as the (false) beast ripped the blade out of itself, the insanity in the air grew ever stronger making him want to rip its smug throat out before he reminded himself that he had to stall until Pix was ready.

A familiar dampness at his lips had him wiping away the blood from his nose without even bothering to check it, since the equally familiar ache in his head already told him just how (un)well he was holding up on that front.

Shaking his head the man wouldn’t let that stop him, after all the longer he let the (false) beast run around unhindered the worse the creeping insanity would weigh upon his mind.

Which is why the beast rushed the corpse rather than listening to its taunts and false admirations as it tried to use its too sweet whispers to play with his mind.

Rather than being offended the winds merely laughed at his efforts, the (false) beast dancing around his feral swings despite its massive size. Its roots and vines both tugging the corpse around in sudden jagged motions as well as lashing out at him in wide whipping swings.

Something the beast hated since it meant that he had to waste more time attacking the bits of the corpse that did superficial damage at best, because despite how much black blood they bled all over the place the (false) beast didn’t even flinch no matter how many of them he hacked apart.

Unfortunately this wasn’t anywhere near enough to slow the onslaught of swarming vines surrounding him, and eventually one of them got lucky and managed to wrap around his leg, snaring him in place for just a split second. Something that was more than long enough for the corpse to wrap one of its actual hands around the back of his neck before using its inhuman strength to throw him towards the edge of the rooftop.

Hitting the tile twice as he was bounced off of the roof as the corpse sent him rolling towards the edge, and what he knew would be a fatal fall in his current condition. Blindly, as the rest of his body toppled over the roof one of his hands managed to latch onto its edge, stopping his fatal fall but causing his body to swing and twist in a way that definitely tore something in his shoulder.

The wind whispered with its haunting laugh as the (false) beast made its way towards him, completely unbothered by the flames it walked over as the last of the scavengers and kobolds dueled to the death behind it.

He flexed his wrist summoning the blades he’d dropped towards him but the corpse caught them before they could even touch it.

Silk and honey filled words filled the air as the (false) beast smiled at him, and he forced himself to ignore them as he had been throughout their entire fight. Knowing that the more he listened to it, the more he thought about it, the deeper into the (false) beast’s insanity he’d be dragged because even if the cheap copy lacked the power to rake its fingers across his soul, it did not lack the power to claw at his mind.

His pain, be it his aching muscles or pounding skull, was the only thing letting him ignore the touch of madness even as the sides of his vision began to blur with words and symbols that tore into one’s sanity as they physically etched themselves into one’s mentality.

Unfortunately for the (false) beast his mind was already more scar than skin, so what were a few more?

Ignoring his screaming shoulder he swung his body so that his other hand could grab onto the edge of a window just beneath him.

The corpse wasted no time lashing its vines at him, believing that if he wouldn’t give into its insanity, his precarious positioning would make it easier for the (false) beast to send him to his death below.

Something that he was actually counting on when he kicked off the building and grabbed one of said vines with his good hand. An action that seemed to get a surprised recoil out of the corpse as it threw said vine into the air, where he released it sending himself flying behind the (false) beast and back onto the roof where a rough landing and a half roll got him back onto his feet.

A flex of his wrist brought his ax back into hand as the (false) beast let the weapon go and gave his acrobatic feat a clap, amused by the daring escape, as for just a moment its overconfidence distracted it from what was happening behind it.

Rolling his shoulders -and ignoring the pain that brought in one of them- he did a quick inventory of the situation, reassessing and planning, as he took note of one or two discarded molotovs on the ground, the fact that more of the rooftop was on fire than not at this point, and the distinct lack of any scavengers on the roof, and kobolds hiding behind those flames.

Sighing, he turned a glare onto the (false) beast, something that made the accursed thing smile even wider as a dozen of its eyes stared back at him.

Given the condition of everything, they both knew this was going to be the last skirmish of their battle, that after this one of them would be dead, and even if one of them refused to acknowledge just who that was going.

While one of his arms were largely shot, able to use maybe half of its function if he made the injury worse, he was still able to fight and would see this through to the end.

Giving into madness, he was the first to rush his eldritch abomination of an opponent, twisting around the (false) beast’s vines before using the eye of one of its petals as a stepping stone to rise up and slash at the corpse’s neck.

An attack it just barely avoided, by taking it to its chest instead, though the injury healed within seconds, he knew if he could make the (false) beast bleed he could kill it.

With a growl the corpse’s hand shot at him, it’s fingers bent to grab or claw, whichever came easier. Not that of them would touch him as the (false) beast’s twisted form allowed him to dive beneath its arm and take cover beneath the flower of flesh, at the cost of leaving him amongst its creeping dark roots.

Roots he had no problem hacking apart even as they wrapped around his legs and hung him in the air by his ankles. Something the (false) beast couldn’t take advantage of as he cut into the corpse’s shoulder lodging the blade deep enough to hinder its movements, but leaving him unarmed as the vines twisted, flinging him into the air before slamming him chest first into the ground, cracking several ribs and worsening his own shoulder.

Unfortunately for the (false) beast his pain tolerance had long since hit a point where he could walk on broken legs if he had to, which is how he was able to shoot his bad arm out to the side and wrap his fingers around one of the unused molotovs the kobolds had dropped.

Seeing this the corpse wrapped several of its vines around his pack and ripped it off of his back, stripping him of any and all of the trick, traps, and tools he’d hidden within. Making him very glad that he’d hooked his lighter to his hunting jacket ever since the first time he’d lost it when trying to cook a corrupted corpse.

With the molotov lit and waiting to burn, the corpse pinned him down with several whipping vines to his back, forcing his face into the ground as he was forced to blindly throw the molotov behind him. An attack that landed nowhere near the (false) beast’s corpse, but still managed to catch enough of its roots that it was forced to release him.

Pushing himself up, his arms gave out because while his will was strong his body was still only human, and could only take so much damage before giving out.

The wind laughed, knowing this while telling him how easily it could fix the problem if he just gave into it. Something he refused to do, no matter how beaten down and broken he was.

With a smile on its face the corpse flipped him over and wrapped a clawed hand around his throat, the (false) beast wanting to look him in the eyes as it bested the foe that took its.

The whispering insanity gave him one last taunt as the fingers of its other hand came together to rip out his still beating heart and eat it as the (Real) Beast had once threatened and failed to do.

He looked his death in its hollowed out eyes and spat in its face.

The (false) beast growled pulling its hand back to end this once and for all before a fireball struck it in the side of its head.

The corpse’s head snapped to the kobolds that had managed to hide from it behind the various flames across the rooftop, leaving it completely open as he pushed through screaming muscles and kicked the corpse in its throat. Shocking it just enough to release him from its grip as it pulled back and gave just enough distance for them to pelt it with the last of their molotovs.

An insane screech tore through the air as flames wrapped around the (false) beast, and the corpse glared at him with empty eyes full of fire and wraith, finally sick of this farce of a game.

He merely smiled and gave the (false) beast a little wave as he sent a pulse of magic through the contract to his little light.

The corpse snarled before freezing as an immense amount of magic twisted just behind it. Turning slowly the (false) beast saw the pillar of light that would spell its demise, if it was about three meters closer.

A bubbling laugh carried on the wind, growing into a hauntingly mad cackle as the (false) beast realized that its great foe’s final great gambit for killing it had COMPLETELY missed it!

It really should’ve known better.

Through sheer will, spite, and madness he forced his broken body onto its feet, not caring that these few stumbling actions were likely pushing him beyond the threshold of recovery, a point where his body was so damaged that when it dropped it wouldn’t get up EVER again.

With a flex of his wrist he pulled his ax out of the corpse’s back, and ran through screaming pain towards the (false) beast before throwing the ax at its roots as he tackled it into the light, unafraid of the few flames still clinging to it. And between the two of these actions, the corpse fell forward before catching itself just a few inches before its face would’ve touched the light.

Realizing this wasn’t enough, he picked himself up as best he could while half laying on the (false) beast, before slamming his shoulder and all of his weight into the corpse. Driving it an inch closer to the light as the flames covering the (false) beast ate through the last of his jacket’s defense and began to lick at his skin.

Grimacing and growling, he pushed through the burning pain once more, unsure of whether it was from the fire or his body, before slamming down and driving the (false) beast another inch closer to its death.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Matching his growl the corpse turned its head towards him as several half-burnt vines began to wrap creep around his body, preparing to pick him off and throw him to HIS death.

He figured that meant there really was no point in trying to survive this.

Fighting against the (false) beast’s weakened roots he climbed up the corpse, feeling the faint shaking in its form as the damage from the flames weakened it just enough to make the inhuman thing struggle against their combined weight.

More vines clung to his body, trying to slow him down, but they did not stop him.

And as he neared its head, he began to feel the light’s power licking at him with an intensity even greater than the flames below as the corpse’s head slowly moved that last inch until the pillar of light was touching its face, earning a screech of agony from the monster that had caused him so much pain and trouble.

The last of the (false) beast’s roots and vines shot up, latching onto him even as it was forced to drop to the ground, sliding its face down the pillar as it fell, but stopping him from climbing any further as they were driven to a stalemate.

Or rather what would’ve been a stalemate if he hadn’t already resolved to drag the corpse into the light if he had to. And given the way the were perched, all he had to do was lean forward to send them both toppling into AGONY as both of their bodies were subjected to a level of burning light that no creature on earth or the abyss was built to withstand.

He couldn’t tell how long the light burned for, whether the screaming in the air was him or the beast, when he hit the ground, or even when the light had finally stopped. All he knew for sure was that the light could hurt far more than broken bones and seared flesh.

But slowly, laying there, a blurred vision began to return to him, and though both severely damaged by the light and likely never to fully recover on its own, it did assure him that the light had indeed, mercifully stopped.

Unable to feel anything other then pain and his body demanding that he finally allow it to stop, he let his head lull to the side, where through the blurriness he made out a small dark orb with little lines coming off of it and scrabbling at the ground.

A weak growl tore through his sore throat as without any input the fingers of his hand seemed to wrap around something hard, as if demanding that their suffering not be in vain. And so looking the wretched thing in its last remaining eye, his hand rose into the air and the Huntsman told the Beast of Blackwell, “Stay dead this time.” before squashing it like the parasite it was.