The Wild Hunt

[Narrator]

The Hound bursts onto the streets somewhere in the mostly-empty California City. Their quarry's trail is weak but present. North-east. It's smothered in the stench of a car but too distinct to be so easily hidden from supernatural noses. Running after the hound, Leo and Sam find themselves swept up in it's frantic movement. Something wild and unrestrained buoys their steps, taking them just a little further than normal and growing more pronounced. Soon each step moves them two yards, then three, wind is whipping around them and the pounding of the Hounds paws on the ground echoes like hammers in their chests.

It's a primal joy, running across the landscape with such wild purpose, racing towards the promise of their prey. Stormclouds begin gathering in their wake and billowing forth until they stretch ahead of them. They're more than just three humans running now. They're part of something bigger that's carried in the gusts of wind storming around them. They're a Hunt, running down whatever would cross their path in pursuit of Ryn. Most animals scatter at their approach, but here and there a coyote dashes along at the outskirts, some occasionally breaking off to leap with supernatural speed to snag some prey of their own. Above them birds of prey have joined, diving and snapping at each other in a frenzy.

[Leo N. Eskandari]

Leo had never experienced anything remotely like this. The feel of running with a pure, primal purpose was beyond exhilarating. It was far from what he had feared—that his humanity would be washed away in a sea of instinct and the monster would take over. Instead, human and monster were in communion. He was completely and simultaneously both beings, and he felt whole for the first time since becoming what he now was.

Yet he also felt as if he had done this before, only with other creatures cut from the same cloth. In another life, that of the monster, he hunted that which he was born to hunt. Not people, not animals, but the same thing he hunts now.

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"Well, then," the Wyldclay said, grabbing their hat (since when did they have a hat?) and heading for the ghost road doors. "I suppose we'll just have to cut them off at the pass while they get their Ya-Yas out."

[Miriam Bell]

"Wait, you know where they're going? And do we really want to be anywhere near those three throwing down?" Miriam asks, following after Wyldclay anyway.

[Toshiro Narumi]

Tosh hurried after them. "Well, we can't let them just do whatever it is a Wild Hunt does to its target, can we?

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"No, no and...I mean, we absolutely can. That is one of many outcomes which end up alright in the end," the Wyldclay said.

"But if you think I would just let the Wild Hunt loose on Earth without a way of following along at my own pace, well, I will reserve the right to be insulted at a later date," they grinned, flicking the feather in his hat. "It may not be as good as one of your fancy computers, but I do believe we can triangulate it's position, once it gets a little further afield."

[Miriam Bell]

Miriam sighs. "Right, they'll probably need talking down. Lead on, you cheeky git."

"Though, until then... You seem pretty well versed in all this, obviously. What can you tell me about these passages?"

[Toshiro Narumi]

"And what data do you have to triangulate with? Please don't just say magic. That explains nothing."

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"Some of them," the Wyldclay whispered conspiratorially, "smell vaguely of cheese, for reasons no man has learned and lived to tell the tale."

"They are old -- they were here when I first arrived, and I dare you to find anyone who can remember when that was. They shift constantly, requiring constant mapping and re-mapping. They pick and choose which laws of physics to obey and to ignore, cheekily. And there seems to be more of them appearing on a regular basis, though I do wonder if that is merely in proportion to the number of doors that exist."


They turned to Tosh. "Oh, I wouldn't just say magic. That would explain nothing.

It's a magic feather."

[Miriam Bell]

"I'm not sure what you expected, Tosh. It all just runs on fairy-tale dream-logic at best and I swear the more it annoys you the more nonsensical it gets just to spite you."

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"The feather will point in the direction of the collar," the Wyldclay explained. "We go through doorways, check where we are, and check what direction the feather points in. And that will allow us to figure out where the Hunt is, through repeated readings. It may not be your...GeePeeEss, but it's good enough for sailors."

[Toshiro Narumi]

Tosh groaned. "Seriously wondering what possessed me to volunteer to go to an urban fantasy dimension."

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"One day, I shall show you more of my trinkets. Why, I have another device that points unerringly towards the top of the globe itself," the Wyldclay deadpanned.

[Miriam Bell]

"I like this new, rude Will." Miriam laughs.

[Toshiro Narumi]

Bruce, at least, liked Wyldclay. Ennio and Kabuto, though, were quite annoyed, though for different reasons. Tosh simply resigned himself to having to deal with the would-be Fae.

"Let's just... get this over with."

[Will Stanton]

The Hound bursts onto the streets somewhere in the mostly-empty California City. Their quarry's trail is weak but present. North-east. It's smothered in the stench of a car but too distinct to be so easily hidden from supernatural noses. Running after the hound, Leo and Sam find themselves swept up in it's frantic movement. Something wild and unrestrained buoys their steps, taking them just a little further than normal and growing more pronounced. Soon each step moves them two yards, then three, wind is whipping around them and the pounding of the Hounds paws on the ground echoes like hammers in their chests.

It's a primal joy, running across the landscape with such wild purpose, racing towards the promise of their prey. Stormclouds begin gathering in their wake and billowing forth until they stretch ahead of them. They're more than just three humans running now. They're part of something bigger that's carried in the gusts of wind storming around them. They're a Hunt, running down whatever would cross their path in pursuit of Ryn. Most animals scatter at their approach, but here and there a coyote dashes along at the outskirts, some occasionally breaking off to leap with supernatural speed to snag some prey of their own. Above them birds of prey have joined, diving and snapping at each other in a frenzy.

Will, mindless, soulless, had just one thing going through his head -- the Hunt. His eyes glowing, running in silence, each step clawing yards -- miles -- leagues as he ran. The chaos of the world outside the Hunt -- even the chaos of the Hunt itself, wild instincts roiling and raging -- meant nothing. All that mattered was finding the Prey and ending it. And so on and on bounded the shaggy dog, through the deserts of California, marching North and East...

[Wyll Wyldclay]

Bruce, at least, liked Wyldclay. Ennio and Kabuto, though, were quite annoyed, though for different reasons. Tosh simply resigned himself to having to deal with the would-be Fae.

"Let's just... get this over with."

The Wyldclay handed Tosh an old map -- one which, at first glance, surely couldn't be useful, looking like it was made in the 15th century. It did, however, seem to contain places like Iugoslavia and Unionis Sovieticae, so it apparently was up to date? Sure. Why not.

"You look like you know about...numbers. And things," they said. "Mark down our headings as we go, and we'll circle in on the mindless beast."

[Toshiro Narumi]

"I'm a scientist, not a cartographer!" Tosh protested as he studied the strange map. "I mean, I can totally do it, but I make no promises about accuracy!"

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"Ah, well, then, I make no promises about our final destination! Perhaps you would like to use the pencil, Miss Bell?"

[Miriam Bell]

"What in the bloody prop department is this?" she asks as she takes the map and studies it briefly. "This isn't going to crumble to dust if I look at it funny, is it?"

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"That depends, do you have parchment-crumbling vision? You have to tell me if you do."

[Miriam Bell]

"I guess that's a no then." she says and folds the map around until it's showing mostly North America. "Alright, first door..." she says as they start the process of checking doors, estimating their location and drawing a rough line on the map according to the feather. It takes a bit more than the theoretical two because while the feather might be accurate, their estimation of location and heading isn't. Still, eventually they end up with a bunch of lines that map out a point that's moving up and into Death Valley.

[Toshiro Narumi]

"Death Valley? That's... definitely the last place I'd think a siren would hide. Or, you know, anyone," Tosh commented.

[Leo N. Eskandari]

Will, mindless, soulless, had just one thing going through his head -- the Hunt. His eyes glowing, running in silence, each step clawing yards -- miles -- leagues as he ran. The chaos of the world outside the Hunt -- even the chaos of the Hunt itself, wild instincts roiling and raging -- meant nothing. All that mattered was finding the Prey and ending it. And so on and on bounded the shaggy dog, through the deserts of California, marching North and East...

It was when the group reached the outskirts of Death Valley that Leo's supernatural sniffer truly locked on to Ryn's scent. After some extreme mental effort, he resisted the influence of the hunt enough to enact his plan. He suddenly grabbed the Will-Wolf and threw him right at Sam.

"Sorry, but this is our world's problem," he said before running on ahead.

[Will Stanton]

It was when the group reached the outskirts of Death Valley that Leo's supernatural sniffer truly locked on to Ryn's scent. After some extreme mental effort, he resisted the influence of the hunt enough to enact his plan. He suddenly grabbed the Will-Wolf and threw him right at Sam.

"Sorry, but this is our world's problem," he said before running on ahead.

Leo tossed Will into Sam, sending the two of them sprawling. In the confusion, Will hit his head on a rock, and blacked out.

[Samantha McManus]

With a look that could have curdled milk, a look that Leo could feel at his back, Sam crawled out from under Will.

Then, her body lurched and shifted, positioning muscle and bone to be sufficient to the task of draping Will over her shoulders behind her head. So burdened, she began to walk, slowly but unfailingly, toward Leo.

[Leo N. Eskandari]

Even without the Hunt at his back, Leo was quite fast for his size. It wasn't long before he left Sam and Will entirely behind. Yet, even then, he could feel the young goddess' gaze boring into his back. But he was increasingly aware that he was built to withstand such things, though he knew that he was a pale imitation of the beast whose spirit he embodied.

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"Death Valley? That's... definitely the last place I'd think a siren would hide. Or, you know, anyone," Tosh commented.

"And that's why you hide there. So you're not found. If they hide in the most likely place, we'd find them within five minutes!"

The Wyldclay dug around in their pockets, and pulled out a few sets of earplugs. "Even in the desert, with no water for miles, the Siren's song will be potent. With the orb active, no one alive can possibly resist her. No one dead, either, quite possibly. So this will hopefully keep you from clucking like chickens, dancing the watusi, or shooting each other in the head."

[Miriam Bell]

"Fantastic." Miriam scoffs and takes the earplugs. "So, one of these doors just lets out into the literal middle of nowhere?"

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"Oh, every door leads to the middle of somewhere. What, you're not up for a walk? Darwin's probably about just 20 hours away on foot..."

[Toshiro Narumi]

Tosh took his pair of earplugs with a nod. "With any luck, there's a rock formation shaped like a door. Somewhere. If it works that way."

[Miriam Bell]

"Twenty... excuse me!? Sam might have some kind of divine speed but I'm just a regular person!"

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"If it makes you feel better, I've always thought of you as a very irregular person," the Wyldclay said, resting one hand on Miriam's shoulder.

[Miriam Bell]

"For the couple hours you've known me." she rolls her eyes. "There has to be a better way. You said the doorways move, yes? So what if we make them move?" she asks, stopping and letting the strange sensation of familiarity of empty places sink into her. It's painful in a way she'd somehow been able to avoid when she'd sung about the Spaces Inbetween. No, not avoid but express. She sighs a little to herself. "Not a word about this to anybody." she says, pointing a threatening finger first at Wyll, then at Tosh. And once she's convinced herself that the message is clear she turns around to face the fog-shrouded hallway. She draws in a deep breath and spreads her arms as she starts to sing.

♪♫"What you need and what you get
can be quite offset, and all you feel is debt
to those who let you into their duet."♪♫

♪♫There's nothing quite like being able
to tell truly how unstable
Fragile bonds in the divide
Can cast your self aside."♪♫

♪♫If you face the things that scare you,
hoping that the ones who care do
Much the same.
And chasms that you thought were empty,
turn out to be filled with plenty of what you only need reclaim."♪♫

And as she's singing the walls around her twist and change through a number of shapes and textures. From vine-covered stones to the gnarled bark of ancient trees into gingerbread and frosted grouting and more mundane but still distinct looks. And slowly the walls open into passageways, growing doors and archways that spread out like probing vines.

♪♫If spaces in between define us
then they also can remind us,
That an empty road leads anywhere at all
If you only take a fall
And let the ties that bind us
Guide the way so we can find
In the corners of our mind
The ones your heart can really trust."♪♫

♪♫So I will find the way
Even if it sounds cliche
To the ones your heart can trust."♪♫

Soon the hallway they were once walking down has turned into a wide open space of a dozen passages coming together, ramps, ladders and stairs taking shape to lead to a second, then a third story. And one of them has settled into gingerbread that sprouts gnarled branches to form the roof, widening as if to beckon them forth.

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"Hrm. Treacle," the Wyldclay noted, as they walked along. "A handy trick, that. Anything of your own here, or are these all hand-me-downs?"

[Miriam Bell]

"Can't exactly connect one to the other without a little bit of me." she mutters. "I'm just glad it worked. Tell your government spooks to hire an expert on the Akashic record or something. Or a psychic."

[Toshiro Narumi]

"Gingerbread? Really? We're not looking for a cannibalistic witch," Tosh quipped as he studied the assembled passages. "What does the feather say?"

[Wyll Wyldclay]

"Oh, you might need to read up more on your siren mythology," the Wyldclay said. "Specifically about how they remain so young and beautiful."

The Wyldclay glanced up at the feather in their hat, which was pointed forward and to the left. "I would say...forward, and to the left."