The Hunter (Part One)

by Consecrator

How many years ago was it? I don't remember anymore. Longer than an eon, less than an eternity. All I remember is fire, and the reek of death and the man in the mask. Sliding his scythe over the throat of my wife... I'll find him one day, and I'll butcher him. That's a promise Maker, I hope you remember that. Because when I come back, I'm going to butcher you too, for interfering.

Prologue

The Demons, though they never imagined themselves doing this, were fleeing a battle.

They were scared, frustrated, bleeding, dying in hordes and could feel the thing hunting them following.

They didn't know what he was really, he was something they'd never faced before. He wasn't a Maker, who forged great crafts, though his axe, made of flesh, bone and steel might have come from one. He wasn't an Angel, he had no wings to speak of, only legs, but he towered over them like a black cloud. He wasn't even a Demon, come to get some killing practice in, he had no horns, not disfigured features, nothing to show what he was, save for his deep grey eyes.

This man was tall, ten feet tall in fact, and his body was built like a tank. He wore clothes, stitched together from animal pelts of slain beasts that even legions of Demons couldn't kill, his boots were a hide so thick that magic couldn't pierce them, his fingerless gloves slowly traced lines as he weaved some sort of magic across the space between them, they'd never even made him draw his axe. He reeked of death, as if he'd waded waist deep through piles of corpses and come out and never taken a shower, but it was a certain kind of reeking, the sort that didn't make your nose cringe, but put a feeling of dread deep in your guts. He wore no helmet, no hood or cover, but ragged white and grey hair fell limply in wild waves of strands. His face bore scars of ages past and his lips were scarred like they'd been slashed brutally with butcher precision, and his grey eyes stared at you, one was normal, his right eye to be exact, it and the left one scanned around for any sign of life or danger, but his left, when it fixed upon you everything about you started to burn.

Some said it was your sin, killing you and burning you to less than a molecule, others said he wore a fake lens, to hide the fact it was red, but that was a lie. Both his eyes were grey. And both his eyes were fixed on the slowest of the Demons.

A screech emerged from it as its legs suddenly were assailed by roots that burst from the ground and tore them off, black ichor spurting in torrents, the hunter walked close by it and sat on a rock not far ahead, waiting for it. When it got there, and was relieved by the fact its life was done and it was dead, it had a nasty surprise.

Its life was forced back into its body, breath filled its lungs and its leg wounds stopped bleeding. The Demon looked at the hunter. "Who are you?" It croaked, the hunter looked away from an insect that was crawling across his hand and fixed it with his gaze. "A hunter. A predator. Someone who ends life. Take your pick, I don't care. In the wilds they called me Oak. In the cities they called me Wilder. In the royal courts they called me Sir and in the swamps they called me Urgost. Take your pick. I don't care." The hunter stood up and gripped the Demon and lifted it into the air by the back of his head. "All I want to know is where is the Demon Samael? I will speak with him, for he knows things in his black court." The Demons lip trembled as never before, he was afraid of Samael but right now, he was terrified of this man, this man who had killed an entire company of them in minutes with naught but moving his fingers if only slightly, never even drawing his axe. "I'll talk you there, but I need my legs to walk, master Urgost." The hunter looked at where the roots had torn its legs off. At the knees. Lucky

The Demons legs somehow began to grow back! The sinews and bones and flesh and blood began to flow and he could feel them again! The Demon was dropped to his knees and shakily stood.

He wasted no time and asked, his eyes at the ground in fear of meeting the hunters eyes. "Please follow me master Urgost. I'll take you there immediately." Urgost waited for the Demon to be a few paces ahead before he followed, his slow, steady pace a haunting hollow sound in the dead forest.

The Hunt Truly Begins.

'Six days of no stop walking, I'm exhausted, how does he do this?' The Demon called Salamander wondered to himself, Urgost trailing behind him, the hunter hadn't rested for the three days for even the slightest break but when the Demon had thought that he could get leverage over him and said. "We are going to stop, until I'm ready to get you to Samael."

The gaze Urgost had fixed him with had curdled his blood and made Salamander want to role into a ball and cry.

He made a decision that he would exactly what he said when he said it. Not much better than a slave, but losing his legs was a lesson he didn't feel like reliving.

"We will stop at that town Demon, I have debts to settle regarding my early life." Salamander and Urgost walked quickly there, Urgost made Salamander wait for him in an inn where he thought he'd fit right in...

There was a party going on, why he neither knew nor cared but there were people's from every race save for the Makers and Angels, the other Demons invited him in and he was amazed to find how many people were dancing, some up on the joined tables, splashing their mugs together and drinking, one of the waitresses offered him one and Salamander drunk it while jumping into the fray.

He hoped Urgost would be a very long time settling his business.

The town was decrepit to Urgost who mainly avoided towns and cities though in his younger years he worked in many to gain strength to begin his hunting.

The people who milled about avoided him at most costs, the few that bumped into him said a quick apology and left before he could see them properly. Urgost walked straight to the guard barracks and gave three heavy pounds on the door.

No answer.

Three more pounds and a heavy boot toe.

Still no answer.

Just as he was about to break it down to find the woman he was looking for who had hired him many years ago at a sea port when she'd been a trader and had had him lifting the heavy wine caskets onto the carts or whatever the buyers wanted them loaded into, the door opened and his boot had already been raised, he put it back down.

"Where is Gretta Owjen?" The guard frowned at him and then asked. "What you want with her? She's been dead a good six years now."

"Who is the next of kin?" The guard thought hard for a moment, pursing his lips in concentration. After a short while he pointed at a house down the end of a street. "Miss Ann down the road, her daughter, though she had a brother over in Frostmarch if you want him." The hunter turned and strode away leaving the guard frowning.

He got to her door and gave three more hard bangs with his fist, it opened only a moment later. A woman with thick brown curls and innocent eyes looked out and stared into his grey eyes. "I'll be guessing your the man mother said'd be coming 'round one day to collect the pay he didn't get a chance to when those guards came an took him away for bein' framed. Come on in, want a hot drink?" Urgost walked in slowly as she disappeared around a corner, her white dress flowing out behind her.

Urgost looked at the pictures on the walls and saw many, men and woman he neither knew nor cared about. One had a man who was decorated with golden ceremonial armour and stood next to a platoon of Angels and regular guards.

Was she half Angel perhaps? No, they would never taint their genes like that.

The woman returned with a small box that certainly didn't have gold within and stopped in front of him.

"Always knew you'd come back she did, always knew you'd come and collect your pay, knew you'd need something when your hunt started." She opened the box and and within was a pure purple stone.

A stone of the Hundora mines.

"This is more than she owes me." Urgost would take only what was agreed upon and not a penny more or less.

"She didn't want you to use it as money hunter."

"Then what use is it to me?" He growled, his face coming close to hers, close enough to smell her perfume. "She wanted you to have it so you could remember what was important back when... When it all started." He looked at the stone and picked it up slowly, it was smooth to the touch and suddenly memories flooded into him, his mind was assailed by images of people who he worked peacefully beside them, moulding things, creations of great works! Houses and more made by them! He shut them out and shoved the stone into his pocket. "This settles us then I suppose, if you will not give me proper gold then the stone is worth much." She sighed and before he left a hand on his giant shoulder stopped him. Instinct told him to whip around and face her, but something stopped him. "I remember when you worked with her Argent, I remember you and her got along well. It's not too late to end this before it begins."

"I forsook that name when my people died, I am no longer who I once was," he shook her hand off of him. "Never touch me again if you wish to keep your hands." She sighed as he left out the door, his axe the last thing she saw of him.

"Horsemen!" The Charred Councils voices boomed at once. "There is a matter of some concern to both Angel and Demon that they have collectively asked our help." The Four Horsemen stood or paced around, their attention pricking at the sound of Angels and Demons. "Something plagues across the realms and slaughters all who attempt to stop him, you will find him and bring him here in chains where Azrael and a Demon lord representative will decide his fate. He has slaughtered already in the millions."

"The millions? Why have we not been told this before?" Wars voice was commanding but was drowned out by the Councils. "It was not our problem to begin with! The Balance was not disturbed, but now they feel he has the chance to level towns if he wishes it so, find him and bring him here! You have your orders, now go!" The Horsemen turned and left thinking that the Council had assigned them another simple mission that would be solved in a matter of days. They didn't know how wrong they were...

Urgost, or Argent, take a pick (I'm going to stick to Argent now that his true name has been revealed) strode into the inn where he'd left his guide who he found passed out on the floor drunk. He decided that today he was in no hurry so he left him there and sat at the counter and asked for a piece of stake which was cooked and served quickly with roasted potatoes and a mug of alcohol. He ate the food and left the mug. Alcohol disgusted him, besides, hunters like him didn't drink.

Salamander woke up with a roaring headache and stumbled around as the music boomed about him, bumping into Argent and falling over without seeing him. "Sorry there, I'm just wakin' up, got a wicked headache!"

"We're leaving now. Take me the rest of the way to Samael." Salamanders eyes widened and he stumbled off of the ground to see Argent looking at him. "Oh, of-of course master, if you'll follow me..." He tried to get to the door but kept on falling over, Argent grabbed the back of his head and held up. "Tell me where the Blood Prince resides and I'll leave you here." Salamander was too drunk to argue, so he replied. "We're close now, just, follow the road and you'll slip into his domain, he's not hard to find from there." Argent dropped him and left out the door, soon after, the Demon realised his mistake.

Argent would be torn to shreds now that Samael had regained his full power.

Wounds.

His castle was imposing. The towers boasted buttresses and dead bodies hung from the wall.

Giant turrets lined the Blood Princes walls and the gates opened mysteriously for the hunter who walked in, his face obscured by his curtain of white and grey hair that fell just past his shoulders and the axe he brandished glowed fiercely in the light that reflected off its blade, a half moon made of some rare metal he'd forged himself into it.

The halls were equally imposing, resplendent rich black and red curtains hung from the walls and rich carpets lay over the floor, in the hundred years since the Destroyers death he had established himself in the Demon ranks as the most powerful ever and took money where he pleased to have this castle made. The hunter who walked the towering halls despised his vanity with every fibre of his elder being. The Prince was even more disgusting in himself.

The red horns upon his head were beaming with magic which zapped back and forth and he sat lazily in his throne like a fat glutinous king. "Who stands before me?" He asked, his voice was low and somehow boomed across the space. The hunter walked close to him and said, his own voice matching Samaels rumble. "Where is the Horseman they call Death?" Samaels laughter boomed out in the hollow throne room but was silenced when Argent drew his axe, but Samael still had a smile plastered on his face. "You're a true hunter, creature, the last of your race. Even though you stand before me your stench is foreign but you reek of life and death, they flow into and out of you. I won't tell you though. Find me a few trinkets that reside in the White City and I'll portal you straight to him." Samael waited for Argent to leave, but he remained where he stood. "Leave dog, go do my bidding-" the blade that flashed and sliced clean through Samaels side made him gasp, Samael teleported away to the other end of the room as his wound healed slowly.

"Why isn't it healing faster? What is that axe made of?" Then Samael made the connection.

The last of his race, the axe made of flesh, bone and metal, the white hair.

"Ravaiim," he whispered, something flickered in his eye that made Argent smile. It was fear, he knew it because it had passed through the eyes of his greatest hunts, each animal before the end had felt fear, and now Samael felt the same way. "This can end if you give me what I want," Argent walked forwards slowly, his axe brandished in a defensive way.

He didn't doubt he would win, but to a hunter the cost had to be minimal to stay strong. But Samael had other plans.

The Demon whipped about and teleported, hoping to confuse his hunter and become the hunter himself, but at every turn the Ravaiims axe met his claws and magic met magic, the powers being exerted in this battle of will was unnatural, even to the strongest creatures this was godlike.

Samael refused to meet the Ravaiims eyes and kept himself moving, against the weaker of foes he may have eventually succeeded and killed them or gained their submission, but he'd never in his life met someone like this before.

This opponent could predict his moves and counter at even a moments notice and when Samael tried to use his telekinesis and thought to crush the hunter while he had the chance, a green barrier flared around him and no damage was dealt. Samaels face twisted into a snare but realised his mistake when he met Argents eyes.

Samaels will, despite even being legendary, was sucked away as Argents left eye fixed upon his. Samael closed his eyes hoping the link would be broken.

But no such luck.

The first sensation he felt that the link remained was his lungs collapsing, he struggled for breath and dropped to his knees, the next was his heart pounding in his chest and he clutched at his chest. "I'll tell..." He choked, immediately his lungs reformed and his heart rate slowed, but his strength was sapped and he knew his bones for all their density were no better than jelly while fixed under the scrutiny of his grey left eye. "The Horseman you seek is looking for you!" Argent walked over to the keeling Demon lord. "Is he?"

"All four! The Council has sent them to bring you back in chains. They ride this way now!" Argent tilted his head, deciding he'd do this somewhere he had the advantage, the four of them would be an annoyance.

"Tell them I wait in the ruins of Stython." And with that the hunter strode away, leaving the Demon as weak as a child and panting on the floor.

"Why do you think that Samael will help? He's going to try and make us do something for him!" Strife whined.

"Shut up Strife, before I shove Chaoseater down your throat." The threat made Strife be quiet, if only for a little while, they needed someone to help with finding the mysterious man who had killed his way across entire realms for no apparent reason, and Samael knew how to find people who hid like him.

But when they looked upon the lord, he was a mess.

There were massive mugs strewn over the floor, sticky black liquid coated some parts of his throne room and the lord was slouched in his throne, not looking very kingly. "Horsemen," he greeted weakly, another mug was handed to him by one of his servants and his lazy eyes glinted greedily at it, he snatched it up and drunk the contents quickly before hurling it across the room. "I'm guessing your looking for a man who has killed his way across the realms?"

They nodded, some thankful that he knew why they were there, others unnerved by his manner, Samael had always been glutinous and greedy, but he was never like this! "He paid me a visit looking for you Death. When I didn't give him a straight answer he started cutting into me," War chuckled next to Death and Samael glared at him, "we fought for a while, before he overpowered me-" a scoff from Fury. "Silence!" Deaths voice stopped his brother and sister from doing any further possible damage to the mission. "Go on Samael." The Demon sighed and leaned back in his throne, he looked like he'd had a hell of a battle. "He told me to tell you that he is waiting at the ruins of Stython. So I have, and now I'd like you to leave." Death nodded, apparently satisfied with this information, but said before they left. "The Charred Council has both Angels and Demons waiting on this mans appearance to them in chains, you could ask to be a representative for your kind." Samael sratched his chin as they left. "I fear it will not go well for you Horsemen. And this time I truly wish you to succeed."

Stython was like a blister in the lush green world that it inhabited. The walls were crumbling and vines grew along and up its sides, trees grew in the centre and all around it making it hard for the horses to follow their riders inside. "Stay here," Death inquired, "I'll see if he'll speak with me before anything happens. The four of us together has before... Sent the wrong message...

Death walked the crumbling maze to where he knew he'd find the hunter, he'd been waiting for the Horseman for nearly three hours.

When Death found him he was a little surprised at his sight. White and grey hair spilling out and sharpening a large axe, sitting on a boulder that may have been from when the old ruin was attacked.

"I was told there was four of you. Where are the others?" Death walked closer and the hunter stood using his axe as a staff. "I came in alone, they wait for me outside. The Council has sent me to bring you to them and you'll await trial by the two parties who enlisted our help." The hunter chuckled as he began to slowly circle him.

"Do you remember me? That day when you killed my family? When you slit her throat, crushed my eldest sons head with a rock, snapped my daughters neck and strangled my youngest when he tried to stop you? Do you remember them?" Death was confused, he remembered something like that, but this man he didn't... No, wait, he did know him!

Deaths insides went as cold as they could get and he felt like he was going to vomit behind his mask.

"Argent..." He breathed, he didn't look into the Ravaiims eyes, he didn't want to. Argent nodded slowly and brandished his axe in a defensive way. "I'm going to kill you Horseman, and you'll pay for your crimes."

He suddenly launched himself at the Horseman who managed to narrowly block it, and they fought in a battle of will and strength. Argent was holding back, savouring his killing blow, Death could see it, he was effectively pulling his punches and learning his patterns, so was Death for that matter, but they changed erratically.

Death decided he'd make the first big move, and that's where it started going downhill for him.

Death grabbed the handle of Argents axe and it became a test of strength. Death knew he was losing the fight and so he dropped back onto his rear, still gripping the handle and pulled it towards him bringing Argent off balance and used his feet to flip Argent onto his back.

Argent used the momentum to swing Death over his head and Death flew across the courtyard landing easily, the hunter rotated his back on the ground and put his axe handle up just as Harvester morphed into a hammer and slammed against it, making his axe creak, he did it again, once, twice, thrice! And the axe broke in two, the hammer followed through to smash into Argents chest, he rolled away and leapt to his feet.

Argent held his arms close to his side and circled his smaller opponent, his face emotionless and devoid of care.

Death twirled Harvester slowly around himself and suddenly launched himself forwards, Harvester whizzed by his head as the hunter ducked and reached into his boot where he produced a knife and tore it through his gut, Death gasped.

Being cut by the blade just didn't feel right, it felt unnatural.

Argent brought it back and stabbed it into his gut and viciously ripped it down, his guts spilling out, Death fell to his knees and just as Argent was going to deliver the killing blow a bullet tore through where his heart was.

Argent looked at where the bullet had originated and saw the other three Horsemen at an entranceway, he chuckled and charged at them, leaping over the wounded body of Death and met the roaring War head on.

War smashed into him and was surprised when Argent expertly slipped into his defences and drove the knife through his eye, it passed out the other side.

War screamed in rage and pain as the hunter passed by him leaving the knife in his head and strode towards Strife.

Bullets constantly ripped through his body in random fire and left holes the size of softballs in him, when he put his arm up to stop them from getting his face he was almost surprised when a giant hole was torn through his left hand.

He could see straight through it.

Another bullet took him in the side of the head and blew his entire cheek off taking every tooth and plenty of bone out of the left side. Argent decided he'd taken enough damage and suddenly every bullet missed as he dodged it all and when he was close enough he punched his hand clean through Strifes lung and ribcage, he ripped his hand out and one more to his face broke his neck as it turned at an unnatural angle, suddenly Fury's whip wrapped around his throat and he turned to her, hoping to use the Horseman's whip against her he marched towards her and before she could do anything he punched her square in the face and her nose broke and went inside her skull, she ripped her whip from his throat and it took some skin off, before he could do anything he felt himself lifted up and was suddenly being used as a battering ram as War ploughed through the walls and with the last wall, a solid twelve feet of stone he felt the full brunt of the attack as he was somehow smashed through it and thrown down into a clear stream fifty feet below.

Argent watched War leave as he sunk to the bottom, the holes in his body slowly healing, he stayed under and dug his hands into the earth, feeling the roots digging into his skin and feeding him nutrients they collected from the stream and some photosynthesis, the stones at the bottom of the stream were beautiful, he promised himself that when he was healed he'd take what he thought to be the best carved by nature.

I'll get him next time, thought the hunter. He was too easy. I'll gut him for good next time.

Licking Wounds.

As soon as they had escaped after War had used much of his remaining strength to barge Argent into the stream he had gotten as far back as the courtyard and dropped to his knees exhausted, he had pulled the knife out of his eye painfully and couldn't see anything on his right side as he waited for it to grow back.

Currently they were at Wars house, he'd insisted on it and they found it was probably a tad more suited to their purposes as it had multiple beds and a medical room where he had a number of tools used for all kinds of medical things, as soon as Death had his guts back in him he had rode to the Council for whatever reason while the other Horsemen licked their wounds in silent seething.

"I don't know how he did it..." Strife muttered, breaking the stretching silence. "Did what?" War asked, genuinely curious as to his meaning. "Beat us so easily. I mean he was old, and I mean old, look at his hair!" War gave him a scolding look, his white hair was unkept at that moment and was falling behind him. "But you're in shape War, so you can't really be disputed as old." "So was he, you see the way he moved? I haven't seen anyone take that much damage since... Hell I don't know, I don't think I've anything take that much damage and barely flinch. He was something else all together. Fought like a monster and hit as hard as War. Made my nose go inside my head." Strife snickered but cringed when his neck complained, having his neck broken like that wasn't pleasant or common for the Horseman and he was still getting over his rapid defeat. Then a noise from outside.

Death and Azrael the Angel of Death entered Wars home and they nodded a greeting.

"What's he doing here?" Death looked at Fury and gave her a silencing look. "When I went to the Council and told them in detail what happened from the time we left to when I left you to speak with them they said that we may need a second opinion on how to beat Argent. So, lord Azrael, you'll want to make yourself comfortable. This is a story I'd hoped would stay unearthed forevermore."

It was back when we had just started our rampage across creation. The first race we killed was called the Ravaiim, War knows the story but I never told him about Argent. Argent was a peaceful man back then, and the strongest of the Ravaiim which we conquered first, he killed a few scores of us on his own but eventually we outmatched him and I took him down, but he just kept on fighting. So I tried to break him like a beast. I had him chained up and in cold blood I killed all of his family in front of him as they begged for mercy, as did he beg for their lives to be spared, his own taken instead. But I didn't listen and so eventually afterwards he escaped capture and I thought that during the cold winter he'd die of cold or something. How wrong I obviously was. It turns out he'd been watching us as we killed his people and turned them into the Abominations and used them on what was left of his people as test subjects, when we were finished we ravaged the planet of any other useful resources and left, going and continuing on our rampage. I shudder at the very memory, if I could go back I'd convince myself to never do it, ever, never taint my soul with that blackness. So there you have it. Argent is perhaps one of the oldest living things around, not much younger than the Charred Council but still powerful like them. He was always different from his race, easier to get along with, come to think of it his wife looked much like Uriel but larger...

The first thing anyone in the room did was Fury stood up and punched her elder brother in the face and thankfully his mask wasn't on, otherwise it would have broken. She stormed outside, her whip curling about her hips and her muscles tensed so tight he thought they might split the skin. Strife simply sat there looking emotionless though his eyes held disbelief in them. War, had Deaths stomach not been still healing from its wounds, would have punched him clean through the wall. "I knew we did bad tings Death, but that is beyond even depraved." Death looked him in the eyes and replied, his voice slightly chocked. "I know." War left for outside as well and Strife followed quickly, only the Angel was left. "Azrael I-" "Stop Horseman. I do not want an apology, I will provide whatever you need for the next five minutes and then I am leaving. That is simply unforgivable." Death pursed his lips for a moment. "I need advice on how to best him, the Council still wants him alive." Azrael thought for a moment and said. "When you are healed come to the White City and go to the library, I will see if we have record of his movements." A small thanks was muttered as the Angel left and only the eldest Horseman was left standing in the room.

"They're never going to forgive me." He said to himself.

A Hunters Preparation.

Argent had spent six days under water. All that time drinking from the earth and the trees growing slower temporarily because so much energy was being siphoned. When he had come up from under the water and picked up his stone from the stream bed he had climbed the rock face where War had thrown him off of to collect the metal from his axe. He'd go to the Forge Lands next to get more better materials to forge a new weapon he'd had in mind for a while now, he suspected it would be handy when he next faced Death.

The ground was strewn with blood and he found his axe pieces where they rested, discarded across the ground and retrieved the metal. From there he opened a portal and stepped into the Forge Lands where he walked silently from the Tree of Life to where a small village of Makers resided.

Argents pace was quick and he decided he could use a beast to get him along faster, if he wished to challenge the Horseman on solid ground he wanted a mount to be capable of not letting them escape him twice. He hated having to catch things more than once, but he also didn't like killing a nemesis if it didn't pose a challenge, which is why he didn't finish Death when he'd had the chance, Argent changed course and progressed down a side path that was mostly devoid of life save for the odd wondering construct which didn't bother him, he walked up a hill and climbed the last piece to where he knew a flat grassy plain was.

Argent had come up here in his own way investigating a rumour he'd heard. They said that there were herds of beast living up there that fed on the grasses of the plains and were said to be great mounts when mastered, he didn't see any for a few miles of walking until he came to a cave where he could hear huffing and puffing. He could feel the wound that the beast had suffered, a broken leg. It wouldn't live long without attention, no wonder it was without its herd.

Argent walked close to the entrance and was growled at by something that was failing to hide in the deep shadows, when he walked closer it growled more and came out limping from its shadows, a perfect ivory white shell covered its back like an armadillo and huge tusks extended from its upper jaw like that of a walruses but much shorter and the lower body was covered with ivory fur and looked much akin to that of a bear. The beast gave a weak roar and backed away when Argent approached it slowly. This would be his mount, he would make it so and ride this to the Maker settlement, it suddenly launched itself over his head and landed heavily on the ground, screeching at its wound. Argent had heard of how to tame them, so he put the theory to the test.

When the beast tried to stamp him into mash Argent grabbed his tusks and they wrestled for control of each other, the beast trying to get Argent under him so he could eat him and Argent tried to gain its submission by forcing its tusks into the ground where as long as you kept the weight on its head it was relatively immobilised.

They spent the better side of three hours wrestling while Argent tried to gain leverage, he could force it to obey his commands by using the power of his left eye but he wanted not the simple slave-like obedience of servitude but a trust built from respect of the others abilities and the knowledge to keep one another safe.

After an entire four hours of fighting for the upper hand Argent gained it and drove the beasts tusks deep into the ground where he succeeded in immobilising it, the fight suddenly left it as it knew it had been bested fair and square by Argent who, to be sure he had the beasts respect and obedience, released its tusks and climbed upon the hard rocky shell of its back. He would have to train it for he refused to place any kind of 'civil' contraptions upon its head and force that kind of servitude of it. He would not steer by way of reins but he had another way in mind. He spent the next few hours - he wouldn't resume his hunt until he felt he was ready to face and slaughter more than simply the Horsemen in their next battle, no doubt they weren't silly enough to come alone although it wouldn't make a difference to him - training the beast in a series of whistles and calls, he made it stay and come to him with a high pitched one and made it attack with a lower, deeper one, he could steer it by giving it calls or tugging it the way he wanted, but what was more was that in the time it had taken him to mostly train the beast - it still needed work, his methods were imperfect as of yet - he had formed a connection to it, a mental bond and he felt that he eventually, like the Horsemen, be able to communicate by thought, will, or even emotion. But now came what he'd been working up to.

He had gained its obedience and respect yes, but he needed to establish the bond of safety while near each other and so he made the beast wait while he looked into its eyes and healed its broken leg. The beast gave a testing weight on it and felt it was healed and useable again!

But despite its new found care for him he could tell it was itching to go somewhere, he motioned for it to leave and it gave what he took to be a smile as it turned and began to leap away in long loping strides. "A mighty beast indeed. Ivory." Ivory, he had decided to call the beast Ivory and he sat, cross legged and removed his cloak of pelts and skins and the flesh of his hands started to seem like they were melting. They began to flow into shape, like that of a saddle, and within fifteen minutes he had a full saddle which he reached into a pouch which clinked and jingled as he produced pieces of bone from slain beasts and even small ones like rodents. All, once a part of his creations, were as strong as solid metals and made up pure raw materials. Nothing he killed went to waste for animals large or small, he skinned them and used it as either sellable material or he fixed up bits of his or, if he was paid, other people's, he made pouches and pockets which he stitched onto his own clothes and or made belts that held hidden weapons. The muscles and meat were always food to him or others if he had too much, he'd often feed the nearby carnivores after he'd had his fill of cooked meat. The bones to him were the best parts to work with. The marrows and density made them great for using in making things like saddles or even stirrups, you could fashion them into carvings or put them in weapons as part of the hilt, he even had made a pair of daggers carved totally from bone.

Argent used a pair of larger ones on the sides of his saddle and they were taken in by the saddle as it was slowly moulded into reality, he carved another pair into stirrups and succeeded admirably, only noticing Ivory's return because of the heavy breathing from behind him, he craned his head to see a giant pair of jaw not far from his face and turned back to finish his work, the saddle was done in another badly estimated three hours. He swung the saddle up onto Ivory's back and it seemed too small, then it started to change shape to fit and soon sat snugly on it, it gripped the beasts back and Argent swung himself onto it feeling the saddle change under him to suit his needs as a large rider, a saddle horn growing on the front as it morphed using the extra flesh he'd given it and he leaned on the horn.

"Let's go Ivory, I want to be at the settlement before nightfall." A quick whistle sent Ivory moving, at first slowly, then his pace picked up and he began to run in great loping strides that ate the meters quickly, not as fast as a horse but these were more suited to his needs. When it came to the edge of where Argent had climbed up to reach the plains it used its massive claws to dig into the rock wall and slowly climbed down, as soon as its feet touched the grassy ground it was off again and running at a leisurely pace towards where he would find the Makers. Argent whistled every now and then to make sure it didn't stray from its course.

The first thing the Makers did when he entered was glare at Ivory and Argent who left his mount to doing what it pleased and found the forge where he could have a few extra pieces melted into the current moon shape to his preferences.

The two who ran the forge were very different from one another. The woman, who Argent room to effectively run the forge with the man who used a giant gauntlet to smash metals into shape. "What do ya need friend? We've a good selection over here in the new forge." She had a heavy accent which Argent found amusing. "Material, make me a halberd head and I'll participate in making the rest when you do it." She raised an eyebrow but didn't counter. "What'll be the metal hunter? We've only got good metals here so while there ain't nothing cheap there is quality stuff here."

"Only the best for me, how much?" She named a price and he produced a satchel from his side, he kept it in case things like this happened, it was also a large portion of his life savings though he had much more in his home in an obscure swamp planet. She checked the insides and found gold and jewellery alike in there, she pulled out a small portion of the gold, about a handful and took the rest. "That'll get you a job worth a Makers skill friend." He crossed his arms and spent the next six hours watching the Makers weave their skill and magics into simply the head of his halberd, they used the rare metal of his former axe and removed some and added some of their own metals which they enchanted to match the effectivity of the rest of the weapon. She waved him over and he knew it was time he weaved his own power into the mix.

As they worked on the body of his weapon he couldn't help but think, a small 'huh' escaped his lips. "What?" The woman asked and he cast his eyes over her face, he spoke as they worked. "Can you feel it? The powers sweeping over this weapon?" She nodded as she used a huge hammer to smash the lump of metal into shape. "Aye, it's incredible."

"If only my people hadn't been killed off, our people could have worked together to make even better creations than this." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Who were your people hunter?" His reply was simple, and without malice or anything seemingly malicious. "Ravaiim." She nearly didn't take the next hit she was stunned, but kept going.

"Aye, you could've helped us a heap. But I suppose the rumours ain't true then, and I'll be also guessin' you're after Death." He nodded and they forged silently from there, the three of them making a masterful piece of artwork weaponry.

When finally they finished it he could feel the power coiling around it, flesh and metal in the perfect quantities merged into a perfect weapon, on one side was a crescent moon blade and on the other was a curved blade and melted into the top was a wavy blade. The staff and handle was red and black metal. "All it requires now is to be claimed." The woman said, Argent slowly picked up the halberd which he felt immediately bond to him, he felt the strength of all their work and magics flood him like a tidal wave of energies. "It's perfect," he said in an appreciative voice. "It was the best we could do hunter." She stuck out her hand and said. "It was an honour to work with the last of the Ravaiim, once your hunts done, I'd go so far as to offer you a place here among us Makers, you can forge like one, although a little primitive. But then your people didn't know much better back then." He looked at her and took the extended hand. "I'll consider once he's dead. My names Argent by the way, and it was a great thing to work along side the best." She scoffed as they shook. "Hah! We're not the best, were pretty good but Ulthane's the best, and he lives in the Weeping Crag nowadays. I'm Alya, and that's my brother Valus. I neither wish you good luck or misfortune though Argent. It'd be a real pleasure to have you living around here to help the forge out." Argent thanked her and Valus and left quickly finding Ivory eating the grass of the training hard while a pair of Makers called Thane and Karn took turns looking around the perimeter, he mounted the beast and a thought struck him. I'm forgetting something. They won't come unprepared next time, this is the Four! How stupid can I be? I am the greatest predator in creation and I had almost set myself up for defeat! A good hunter knows his prey! A great one knows their habits, and a legendary one knows as much as is possible about them.